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seriousficYou asked for a sequel. You. Asked.
Title: I Will Survive
Fandom: Warehouse 13
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 6,744
Notes: This story takes place during season 3.
Characters/Pairings: Myka/H.G.
Previous: Bastille Day
Summary: The one time Myka had her way with H.G. Wells
"Just admit it, I'm getting good at this."
Helena looked down at the tea Myka had brought her. It wasn't quite the exquisite flavor she had endeavored to recapture since being unbronzed, but there was something to say for variety. It wasn't unpleasant either, like Myka's first attempts. It was simply hot tea.
Ever since she'd gotten back to the Warehouse, Myka had been trying to make Helena feel at home while still keeping her distance. Claudia was running interference, Artie was keeping his mouth shut instead of openly attacking her, while Myka brought her souvenirs from assignments and meals from Univille. Helena needed them, since she often spent her nights in the Warehouse, bringing the work up to code. It wasn't the best way to avoid Myka, but it was all she had.
"It's quite adequate, thank you."
Myka couldn't beam at the tepid response, but she still offered Helena a polite smile. Holding up an Artifact bag, she shook its contents at Helena. "Wanna help me crate this?"
"I'm not allowed down on the floor, remember?" It was all Helena could do to keep sarcasm from dripping off her last word, but if Myka was going to be nice, there was no reason she couldn't be. She was of breeding, after all.
It worked, as Myka didn't show the least sign of being discouraged. "I promise to keep you on a tight leash. C'mon. You need to stretch those legs. How long have you been sitting in that chair?"
"I like this chair," Helena replied, giving herself a spin. "It rolls."
Myka giggled, killed it, and offered her hand. "Come on. Up."
Helena got up, but didn't take Myka's hand. They got all the way to the Edison's rail system before Helena spoke ("So you only want me for my bio-energy?"). Sitting next to each other instead of facing each other, both hands on the bar instead of gesturing or touching, Helena felt at ease enough to talk.
"What was the Artifact?" she asked abruptly.
"Linda Lovelace's dildo," Myka said matter-of-factly. "Pick it up and it feels like it's… yours."
"Seems harmless enough," Helena said. "I suppose an archival like that provides a clue to the gender of most Regents."
"And what would you use it for?" Myka asked, glancing over at Helena through her bangs.
Helena didn't respond to the straight line, kneading her fingers on the Edison's bar. It took a minute for her to look over at Myka again, see her again. "I can't do this. You know I can't do this."
"I know you want to. I know one day, you'll want to so much…"
"I don't want to get hurt," Helena said curtly. She tried to fight it, but her voice broke toward the end. The sadness in her voice cut into Myka, reminding her once more of how Helena had been hurt, just like she had.
Myka might have broken off, if she wasn't sure she was the only one who could stop Helena's pain. She let go of the bar and the car grinded to a halt. "I'm sorry for what I did, but how can we live without each other, feeling the way we do? Maybe you can be bitter and alone, but I can't be. I can't give up on you. So take as much time as you need, but don't ask me to stop feeling this way. Don't you think if I could, I would?"
Helena's fingers were white knuckles on the bar. "Put your hands back. Let's move on."
"Look at me. Tell me one thing I can do to make you happy."
"Put your hands on the damned bar, Bering. That will do."
Myka slapped her hands on the bar. The car jolted back into motion. She had to say something, but she didn't know if it would be a rejoinder or a love poem. Then she looked at Helena's face.
"Helena. You're crying."
Helena kept an iron grip on the bar, letting her tears fall where they may. "Can you blame me?"
Myka took her hands off the bar, turning Helena's face toward her and thumbing the moisture from her cheeks. With Myka's hands holding her face, all Helena could manage was a sniffle.
"I am here," Myka said. "I know I wasn't before, and I'm so sorry because you needed me. But I'm here now."
"I do appreciate that," Helena said, soft as air. "I just can't…"
"I know. I'm sorry. I know. So I'll just wait."
"Myka, no…"
"I've decided. I don't want someone else. I want someone brave and smart and amazing and beautiful. I want you. I'm willing to wait. If it takes twenty years, you'll see how I feel."
Helena grimaced before one more tear could emerge. "Hands on the bar, Myka."
***
They put the Artifact away, and Myka didn't protest as Helena wandered the halls. As long as she was supervised, it was fine. So Myka followed her, like a puppy, occasionally trying to draw her in by detailing an Artifact or asking about one that Helena clearly recognized. Helena was strangely silent, though. Not cold, as she could be, but deep in thought. She offered Myka wan looks whenever the woman tried to open a dialogue with her.
Finally, they came to a particular shelf Myka recognized from staring at from the inside of a mirror. "And here's where a man-eating serial killer took over my body."
"That only happens to me near liquor cabinets," Helena replied. Myka could only offer a sincere smile at Helena's spirits raising. She didn't even protest as Helena grabbed an Artifact screen and scrolled through it. "Studio 54's disco ball. Simply give it a spin and it strips away inhibitions, leaving only raw, naked desire."
Somewhere along the line, Myka had started finding Helena's sauciness almost as adorable as it was seductive. It was all she could do to keep from hugging the Englishwoman, touching her in some way. She hoped she got the chance before the desire faded. "I don't think you've ever needed an Artifact to have that effect."
"Have I not?" Helena turned to Myka, still clutching the screen. "Agent Bering, I have a proposition."
Myka piqued an eyebrow. "You should know by now how open I am."
Helena's smile was weak, but there. "If you accept, I'll give us another chance. If not, we call it off. You respect my wishes and move on to… I don't know, Pete if you like."
"There's no need to be insulting."
"I don't trust you. I can't, because I don't know what's in your heart. If you truly love me or—" Helena broke off, sucking her lips in for a moment before raising her chin like a prize-fighter inviting a shot. "Use the disco ball. Rid yourself of your inhibitions, your civilization, your armor. Let me see the real you."
"You want me to use an Artifact for personal gain?" Myka repeated.
"I didn't say I wanted you to use it. I merely stated a condition you would fulfill to win me back, which is what you claim to want. If you're not up to it, it's no business of mine."
"I need time to think."
Helena finally gave in to the bitterness welling up inside her. "Think as much as you want, Myka. You're so good at it."
***
As seemed her lot in life, Helena was torn. She regretted forcing Myka's hand, putting such cold terms on their relationship. Yet it felt right, slipping out of purgatory into either reconciliation or a clean break. She honestly didn't know which way Myka would decide. Therein lay the problem.
The one thing she didn't expect was for Myka to choose so quickly.
She returned from the Warehouse, brushing off Leena's attempts to be cordial, crawled up the stairs and into her room. As soon as she'd opened the door, another presence disturbed her. She wasn't permitted a Tesla, so Helena simply settled into a fighting stance, padding inside before the intruder could tell she knew something was amiss.
"Shut the door," Myka's voice came, firm as steel, "and lock it."
Helena rounded the corner to see Myka seated in her favorite chair, a wingback she'd imported all the way from Italy. "It's late, Myka. I haven't time for this--the latest round in our détente—and a full night's sleep."
Myka smiled insincerely at her. "Close the door or I'll fuck you out in the hallway where everyone can see."
Helena would've gasped if she were less of a lady. Myka didn't talk like that. Ever. "The Artifact."
Myka said nothing, only tilted her head to the side. Her smile was a bit more genuine now.
Helena closed the door and secured the lock. She walked back into the main room with Myka—this new, dangerous, exhilarating Myka—and pulled up a chair. They regarded each other across the room.
"What are you thinking?" Helena asked.
"Wouldn't it be boring if I told you?"
"Give me a hint then."
"What's the magic word?"
Helena couldn't keep a tinge of excitement out of one simple word. "Please." As much as she loved Myka for being so incorruptibly good, the fact of the matter was that she'd also always been attracted to the mad, the impossible, the craven. People were no exception. Just the way this Myka sat sent a warm tingle down her spine. It'd been so long since their interactions hadn't been stained with shame and betrayal. This was so close to a fresh start it terrified her.
Myka tapped her fingers on her leg, hitting the book sitting closed in her lap. Once Helena had noticed it, Myka flipped it open. She read, her voice sliding over every word like a faint caress. "'In his bedroom, Freddy and I made a most risqué discovery. Our clothes removed, bodies half-hidden by candelight, he entreated me to lie across his knee like a naughty schoolgirl. Ever willing, I acquiesced, and he paddled me as if I were a very naughty schoolgirl indeed. In the context of the boudoir, however, the most exciting metamorphosis took place. My pain was transmuted into a new and daring pleasure, such that I could not be dissuaded from pulling away from his embrace after but a minute and mounting him as the jockey does the horse, much to his consternation. It took him a while longer than I had to come around, an unfortunate failing of the male gender I should think, but he quickly grew to see the potency of my new hierarchy. We crossed the finish line neck-and-neck, and so were enjoined to try the race again, armed with this pleasurable alchemy of pain into sexual bliss."
Despite her willingness for these new circumstances, Helena felt a stab of offense. "That's my diary! It is private!"
"Relax, Helena." Myka tossed the book to the ground, where Helena was mollified to see it fell closed. "I didn't read the parts about me. I may be uninhibited, but I'm still a woman. Really, I just wanted to know what made you tick. And you tick quite a lot, don't you?"
"I enjoy myself. I wish I could say the same for you."
Myka checked her watch. "Disco isn't dead for another ten hours. A night of dancing. I intend to enjoy myself a great deal." She undid her belt, the unneeded length of leather springing free from her buckle to point directly at Helena. "Come closer."
Helena stood. She walked over to Myka. Picked up her diary and placed it securely in a drawer in her desk, which she then locked.
Myka laughed. "Are you going to sulk like a child all night, or are you going to enjoy me, unfettered and unashamed?"
"That's not the point of this exercise, is it?" Helena insisted. "I wanted to know what your true feelings for me were. I always knew you wanted to have sex with me. From the moment we met, you were as willing as a two-bit whore paid five shillings. I have to know what's underneath, what's deep within."
"The night is young," Myka drawled, her fingers slipping over her crotch, up to the jutting tongue of belt leather. "I'll see if I can go deep enough for you." Her finger tensing on the belt, she slowly drew it out of her trousers. The whistle of leather through belt loops made Helena shift on her heels with a certain anxiety. "You can be so modest, Helena, even in your diary. Oh, that whole pain into pleasure business is sexy as hell, but you're not much for details. Was his prick long or fat? Did you take it in your mouth or between your tits? Maybe up the ass? I wouldn't put it past you."
"A lady doesn't tell and a gentleman doesn't ask."
"Good thing it's just us girls then." Myka dropped her belt to the floor like a snake-charmer done with her act. "Come. Closer," she reiterated.
Helena found herself pulled to Myka, drawn in by the sheer forcefulness of her sexuality. It had never happened to her before. Even her most able lovers hadn't been able to… hold her like this.
"Unzip my fly," Myka ordered.
"So your most decadent fantasy is for me to be your servant," Helena said over the rattle of the zipper opening. "How depressing."
"Not quite." Myka reached into her breast pocket and pulled out a banknote, opening it crisply in front of Helena. Sir John Houblon stared at her. "Fifty pounds. Tonight, you'll be the whore and I'll be the john."
Helena wasn't offended by the suggestion. After all, she'd already dismissed her diary being read. She took the bill and tucked it into her backpocket. "Fifty pounds? Having sampled the goods, surely you have a better concept of their worth."
"Consider it a down payment. Reach into my pants for the next installment."
Helena dipped into Myka's open fly, feeling something hard and round waiting for her. "Oh, Agent Bering. If I could be paid in that, I should have been the wealthiest woman in London."
"I think you'd better deposit it in the bank before someone rips you off," Myka suggested, working her 'cock' out of the boy-panties she wore to accommodate it. As Helena had suspected, it was Lovelace's dildo, strapped to Myka's hips by some particularly sturdy looking leather.
"And which vault should I lock it in?" Helena asked, getting down on her knees. She leaned close enough to the dildo for her words to breeze against it, and an answering shudder went through Myka's body. As useless as MacPherson had turned out to be, he had been quite right about certain Artifacts' potential, in the proper hands.
Helena intended for the Lovelace to be used quite properly in her hands.
"Your mouth, Helena," Myka answered, back under control. "I think we both know that nothing gets out of there unless you want it to."
"Bollocks!" Helena replied, teasingly.
A moment later, Myka's head was thrown back and her eyes were clenched shut. As much as she'd planned the encounter, and even experimented with jacking herself off (it had felt great, which explained a lot about Pete), she'd had no idea Helena would so quick overwhelm her senses.
"Do you even have a gag reflex!?" Myka demanded, exasperated. Even with her lips stretched, Helena managed a smile. It was good to know that even without inhibitions, Myka was still Myka.
Helena knew the modern feminism movement had an air of distaste for such phallocentric sex acts, but she'd always enjoyed giving good head. The lack of stimulation on her end was more than made up for by the sheer control she exerted over her power. Once she had her lips around their most sensitive organ—not to mention her hands having access to their other vulnerabilities—they were utterly in her power.
Case in point: Helena dragged herself off the dildo, enjoying the growing distress on Myka's face as her lover received less and less pleasure, yet still too enraptured to do anything about it. When the dildo, slick and warm, popped out of Helena's mouth, she grabbed it with a tight fist and gave it a happy jerk. By the long moan Myka gave, she was mollified.
"Hold this for me," Helena asked, pushing the dildo up towards Myka.
Myka unthinkingly took hold of it. Despite being nothing more than silicone, the once-rubbery material was now as rigid as dried cement. "What are you doing?" she demanded.
Helena had taken off her jacket, and now took her sweet time in folding it. She planned to be equally fastidious with her buttondown shirt. "You asked about Freddy. To answer your question, I did take him in my mouth, and I did rub my breasts all over his manhood. I intend to do the same to you, so grin and bear it."
Myka did grin. Then she put her foot against Helena and shoved, hard, sending Helena crashing down on her back. Myka stood up and stepped on Helena's chest, pressing down with just enough of her weight to make breathing an active concern. "I don't think you understand. You don't get to be in charge. You're a whore. And I've got money. So I'm going to use you as I see fit. And you'll enjoy it. Just like you're enjoying it right now. Aren't you?"
Helena's breath was coming fast, and Myka wasn't pressing down that hard. "Yes. I am."
"Good." Myka took her foot away, giving Helena a moment to breathe. "But since you're so eager to show me your tetons—"
She crouched over Helena, straddling her, to rip open her shirt. Buttons flew across the room and Myka could now see Helena's breasts heaving in all their glory, except for the bra that constrained them. Reaching into her pocket, she came up with a switchblade.
"Myka--!" Helena gasped as the blade came out. Her voice was almost orgasmic.
Myka cut Helena's bra open, not so much as nicking Helena's skin. The bra cups fell to either side and Myka took a moment to run her hand over Helena's chest. Not the kind of lower back problems that Pete seemed unable to keep his eyes off of, but not too small either. They were perfectly suited to Myka's hand, her long, slender fingers drawing in every gradients of their curves. Myka let go of Helena's left breast and paid similar courtesy to the right, pinching the nipple between her finger and twisting just a little, walking the fine line between pain and pleasure. Helena's helpless leer showed her what side she ended up on.
"And as long as I'm here," Myka said under her breath, now moving the knife to Helena's trousers. As Helena panted, her desire not to move warring with her need to fuck Myka senseless, Myka cut away her trousers with surgical precision, leaving them a mess of fabric ready to blow away at the first breeze.
The air conditioning wasn't on.
Tapping the very tip of the knife against Helena's belt buckle, Myka moved lower, brushing away scraps of fabric from her panties. Myka giggled at the sight of them. She hadn't noticed Helena's bra in all the excitement, but Helena's panties were of the same set—red and lacy, whorish even. Myka's smile stayed on her face as she slit the waistband on either side, leaving the panties in place by sheer will.
"We can come back to those later," she said, moving over Helena. The blade retracted back into its hilt and Myka tucked the knife away. Helena was gasping as if it were held to her throat.
Myka crawled over her on all fours, taking in the entire package. The smell of Helena's groin, the sweat beading her midsection. She dipped her head and licked at a breast in passing, prompting a groan from Helena. Then she reached Helena's face. Her flushed, begging face. Her brown eyes slits, but it was hard to tell if it was in suspicion or arousal. Slowly, Myka brought her hand to Helena's face. She touched it and found it blazing hot, but more, Helena's mouth lapsed open at the contact.
"Myka," she said gently. "What are you doing?"
"What do you want me to be doing?" Myka replied. Her fingers moved over Helena's delicate skin, down an aristocratic cheekbone to her mouth. A fingertip felt the glossy finish of Helena's lipstick.
"I'm your whore, remember?" Helena insisted. Her lips trembled as Myka's fingers circled it. "Use me."
Myka ran her finger down Helena's lips, watching her bottom lip open, revealing those wonderfully sharp teeth. She pulled her hand away. "Get on the bed."
"I thought we were going to—"
"Get on the bed. Bend over it."
Myka pulled back into a kneel, making it clear she wouldn't be touching Helena until the Englishwoman obeyed. Slowly, Helena got up, her ruined clothes falling away. She divested herself of the jacket and shirt hanging open from her shoulders and despite everything, she enjoyed the look in Myka's eyes. There was no control in it, just lust, her eyes openly drinking in Helena's body. Helena gave her the full picture, turning around to go to the bed and then bending over its side so Myka wouldn't see how wet she was.
Myka stood, stroking the dildo that hung through her pants. She still wore everything but her belt, and while Helena's brain feverishly ran through justifications, all she could come up with was that Myka had all the power. It was just like that horrid pornography that seemed to have twisted sex into something simultaneously shameful and obscene. The one with no clothes was vulnerable, controlled, while the other didn't even have to sacrifice the fold of his pants.
Why then did Myka undress?
Myka started with her heels, neatly slipping them off her feet. The sight of Myka's bare feet sinking into the carpet made Helena feel oddly warm. She looked sidelong at Myka as the woman shrugged off her jacket and tossed it uncaringly to the floor; stepping closer, she unbuttoned her blouse and let it slip off. At the foot of the bed, Myka skimmed off her pants. Helena bit her lip—both the pink of her womanhood and the coral of her nipples were still concealed, and it struck her as profoundly unfair.
"You can look, Helena," Myka said, her voice no longer strident, but barely more than a whisper. It coiled in Helena's ear and ran down to her crotch. "Look at me. It's for you. This is all for you." She reached behind her to unfasten her bra.
Immediately, the bra dipped, revealing more of her cleavage to Helena's scouring eyes. Helena dug her fingers into the bedsheets to keep from touching them—they were so close, Myka was so close.
Myka slipped the bra straps off her arms and nothing covered her skin but the straps of the dildo and her long curly hair. Helena stared at her breasts, tantalizingly obscured by her hair… they seemed even more perfect than Helena remembered, firm and lovely and round.
Helena lifted herself up, revealing herself to Myka, and was gratified to see Myka's eyes widen at the sight. Moving onto her side, hand cocked on her hip, Helena stared into Myka like the picture of temptation.
Then Myka saw her cringe—the memories crashing in once more. The last time they'd done this, Helena had been at peace, Myka had been at peace, and then it had all twisted away. Kneeling down beside the bed, Myka reached out to Helena—taking her hand. There was nothing intimate about it, but somehow Helena felt herself lighten.
"You wanted to know what my innermost desire was?" Myka asked. "I don't have some prostitute fantasy. I don't care who's on top or who wears the pants or whatever you call it in Britain. I just want to see you happy."
Standing, she circled around behind Helena, not letting go of her hand until the last possible moment. Gently, she pressed Helena back down to the bed. Her hands meshed in Helena's hair, pulling it to the side, off the beautiful expanse of her back. Then her fingers circled Helena's shoulders, slowly running down her sides, brushing the outside of her breasts, down the barest hint of her ribcage in her slender abdomen, fitting to her hips and squeezing, Myka bringing the dildo forward, teasing Helena with the very tip.
Helena closed her eyes and sighed, burying her face in the satin sheets of her bed.
"No," Myka said, kissing Helena's shoulder. She rolled Helena over, onto her back, and they saw each other once more. Helena couldn't stop her lips from twitching, a smile—there was something so Myka there, now that she wasn't acting, her quirked grin and a hand nervously brushing a lock of hair back into place. "I want to see you."
"I want your visage as well. I wish to keep seeing you. Not as a reminder of what I've lost, but—in the morning, and before bed, and wherever I can find you." The admission startled Helena. She wondered if perhaps she'd been exposed to an Artifact as well, or maybe Myka's longing for her had simply created one. Her usual armor of cool humor and British remove, which she'd thought had become impenetrable after Myka's betrayal, was nowhere in sight. Everything she could possibly feel coursed through her. This woman had brought her out of the bronze more than the Warehouse ever could.
Sitting up, Helena threw herself on Myka. She would've borne her to the ground if the wall hadn't got in the way. Myka's back slammed into it, Helena pressing hard against her, and she would've apologized to Myka if she wasn't sure that stopping for a chat would be a bigger sin than a little bruising.
Helena showered Myka with kisses, desperate to get the flavor of her back on her tongue. The dildo was jammed hard enough to Helena's thigh to leave an imprint, but Helena had no interest in toys and games just then. She wanted Myka. She'd wanted Myka all the days she'd been imprisoned and she'd wanted Myka as soon as she'd gotten out, it'd just been safer not to admit it.
Pulling back, Helena felt herself growl. The sight of Myka, lustful eyes and kiss-swollen lips, hair a mess, was a potent enough aphrodisiac to turn Helena into an animal. She grabbed Myka by the hair and forced her down to the junction between her neck and shoulder. Myka got the message. She caressed Helena's throat just the way only she could, not quite a bite and not quite a kiss.
"I'll be your whore," Helena said. "Your girlfriend. Your mistress. Whatever you want me to be, but have me, have me."
Myka bit down on Helena's throat and Helena felt a tremor go through her legs. Before she could even moan, Myka had spun her around and shoved her against the wall. "Absolutely. And it's girlfriend. Definitely girlfriend." Myka tried to approach her again, but her dildo butted against Helena's waist.
Myka was pulling at a strap when Helena grabbed the Lovelace. "Use it. You've had me every way a woman can have another woman. Now claim me as a man claims a woman."
Myka snorted. "You are just so damn Victorian sometimes."
"Oh?" Helena quirked an eyebrow. "And is this so very Victorian?" she asked, dropping to her knees.
"What--?" Myka started to say, before her next sight of Helena was a mass of dark hair bobbing up and down on her. This time, the pleasure of the blowjob came to her in a flood. Helena wasn't toying with her, she was squeezing an orgasm out of Myka like a python crushing its prey. Before she knew it, Myka had to palm the wall to stay upright. With her other hand, she reached down and fisted Helena's hair, pulling it out of the way to get a glimpse of Helena's hungry eyes as she looked up at Myka.
With a wink, Helena released Myka and stood again. Even more insouciantly, she kissed Myka on the cheek.
"No wonder all my boyfriends were so crazy for that!" Myka gasped.
"Really? Not to disparage the taste of the average American male, but the rest of your body holds so many wonders all its own." Helena spat in her hand and reached down to lubricate Myka further. Myka's entire body tensed. Falling over wasn't a problem anymore. Being able to move without breaking in half was.
With one last maddening squeeze, Helena released Myka and backed against the wall, between a chest of drawers and the TV stand. She planted her hands on both, sarcastically holding herself steady. "I'm ready, Myka. Virgin territory, just waiting for you to plant your flag."
"Virgin?" Myka asked, eyebrow raised, as she forced herself to take a teeny step forward. Her cock was motionless in front of her. It was literally rock-hard.
"Is not every woman onto a virgin at the start of a great love affair?" Helena asked with the air of a poet, ruined by her lazy smirk.
"This isn't the start."
"Yes. It is. No more secrets. No more mistrust. We start anew, here. I trust you, Myka Bering. Do you trust me?"
Myka touched her dildo to Helena's sex. "With all my heart. Shall I?"
"If I wait any longer, I'll combust."
"You asked for it." She put her hand to Helena's chest, avoiding the hard nipples straining for her touch, and pressed Helena back against the wall. Then her hand moved lower, down to meet Myka's other hand, coming up Helena's smooth hips. They stopped, steadying Helena's pelvis as the Englishwoman trembled with excitement. Myka moved her foot between Helena's spread legs and stepped forward. With the first twinge of motion, she lodged the head of her cock inside Helena, stopping to process just how hot and smooth and wet Helena was.
Helena smiled with supreme satisfaction. "Is it in yet?"
Myka smiled right back at her. She drove her hips at Helena, sinking nearly the full length of her shaft deep within Helena. Even as the Englishwoman gasped, Myka's lips met hers. By the end of the kiss, Helena was even more shaken than she had been by the penetration. She bit her lip and tried to grow used to the feel of Myka inside her.
Myka was enraptured as well, her head tilted back and her eyes nearly shut. Only the promise of the wanton look on Helena's face could draw her out of her reverie. She opened her eyes and lost her breath. Helena looked sated, content, yet her eyes begged Myka for more.
Myka reached down, her fingers stretching across the bottom of Helena's thighs, and lifted her legs up to wrap around Myka's waist. Totally in Myka's power, Helena slid down on the cock, vocal now, letting go of a series of yeses in husky whisper. Her legs tightened around Myka, unable to draw her any closer than she already was, but making sure she wasn't going anywhere. Her arms followed suit, clasping around Myka's back, and Helena lowered her chin to Myka's shoulder, completely abandoning any stance to open herself up to Myka's pleasure.
"Do with me as you will," she begged. Her voice wouldn't have reached Myka's ear if her lips weren't right next to it.
"Because you're my whore?" Myka asked, wondering if Helena still hadn't gotten that fantasy out of her system. She was bored of it.
"Because I love you. And I'll show it any way I can." Helena's legs tightened around Myka, almost painfully, her body undulating seemingly of its own accord. But by the mischievous glint in Helena's eye, she knew exactly what effect she was having on Myka. "You can do anything you want to me!" Helena said, her voice taking on a fierce fervor. "Anything at all!"
"I intend to!" Myka said, suddenly driving herself into Helena, and Helena against the wall. Helena squealed as Myka dove to the hilt inside her, then could only communicate by long shuddering moan as Myka drew herself slowly out, overpowering the grip Helena's legs had on her. Helena protested desperately as Myka's cockhead nearly escaped her, and her eyes flew open in relief as Myka pushed her way back in. Helena dug her feet into Myka's back, begging for more.
Myka gave it to her, her fingers scratching to get behind Helena's ass even as her own body jammed it against the wall, but finally she had her, she could both pull Helena in and push her against the wall. Helena did nothing less, flinging herself against Myka's raging penetration. "I've never felt anything like it, never, never!"
"You will again!" Myka promised, hitching Helena up to seek her breasts with her teeth. The taste of sweat and something uniquely Helena swirled in her mouth as she suckled urgently, trying desperately to keep Helena's nipples in her mouth as the Englishwoman bounded up and down. "I'm going to fuck you like this every night! Every hour!"
Helena felt herself catch fire. She screeched and clawed Myka's back and stiffened with passion, throwing her head back against the wall so hard that years from then, there would be a dent that Helena would look at before smiling with remembered bliss.
""I'm yours! Make me yours! Take me!" Helena screamed. All rationality, all pretense had abandoned her. She waved goodbye to them gladly. She didn't need them, not with Myka. "I'm going to come!" she sputtered, forcing her eyes open to see Myka's face, her beauty. "Kiss me! For the love of God, kiss me!"
She groped for Myka's mouth with her own, kissing Myka's cheeks and throat before meeting her. Myka's tongue snaked against hers, somehow refining the pleasure of the cock buried inside her. Myka clenched her hand in Helena's hair, pressing their mouths together harder. Helena finally pulled herself away to gasp in air, and Myka rammed her against the wall. She felt as if she were going to split open, to make more room for Myka to fill her with pleasure.
"Come," Myka said, ordering, begging.
For the first time, Helena felt her orgasm distinct from her pleasure, the first rolling swells of it, then it came crashing down on her. Her teeth clamped down as it drove air and sound from her body, paralyzing her, then she cried out and the sound was like the orgasm, a blinding roaring rush of heat and noise, obliterating everything but the pleasure that ran through her, reminding her that she was alive and not laid to peaceful rest.
"Yours," Helena said as she swallowed Myka in her churning body, "yours," as she sucked the orgasm out of her straining cock, "yours," as she heard Myka's panting breath, felt her muscles harden like molten lead hit by cold water. "Yours!" Helena yelled, matching the strangled cried Myka gave as she orgasmed, sinking herself deep into Helena, their bodies crushing together by mutual choice, until their orgasm had finished with them.
Myka staggered backwards, determined to hold Helena up, until they fell together onto the bed. Helena moaned at the pleasure of the dildo shifting inside her; too much, too soon, as much as she wished she could keep it inside her forever and never end the moment, she had to ease it out for the sake of her sanity.
"You're so good to me," she told Myka gently, sleep taking her already. Myka had fucked her into unconsciousness, several minutes ago in fact, but her pleasure had kept her going like a caffeine high. Without it, she might as well have been in a coma. "Soooo good to me, so good… Myka…"
Myka wrapped her arms around Helena and followed suit.
***
"That is how you make a cup of tea," Helena said, pouring Myka a cup. She had a point. It smelled delectable.
Myka had just woken up to find Helena sitting at the bedside, a tea tray already prepared on the bedstand. She took the offered tea cup and winced. Her head was not exactly pounding, but definitely throbbing, and little scales of pain played down her back. Myka brushed the sheets aside and saw a small amount of blood smeared around the mattress.
"My fault, I'm afraid." Helena held up her nails, which had reached a finely manicured length. "In your absence, I pampered myself a little and, well… rest assured I'll trim these before we pursue more extracurricular activities."
"My back…" Myka murmured. "Oh. It was worth it."
"I agree, but then, I'm not the one with the war wounds. On your belly, love."
Myka followed orders. "You're insatiable."
"Don't flatter yourself, Myka. I am able to restrain myself. Barely." Picking up a bottle of lotion from the floor, Helena squeezed some out into her palm and worked it into a lather before touching Myka's naked back. Myka cringed instantly. It felt like she'd been used as a lion's scratching post.
"I owe you an apology," Helena said, pulling Myka away from the pleasure of her touch. By her tone, she wasn't talking about the scratches.
"No. You don't owe me anything. I'm lucky to—"
Helena moved her hands to Myka's neck, openly massaging her. Myka felt what seemed to be years of stress peel away. She didn't know if it was Helena's skill or just the fact that it was her. "If I bribe you with a rubdown, will you lend me your ears with your silence?"
Myka sighed into her pillow.
"I know how highly you value your discipline. You're rightly proud of it. I should never have asked you to give that up, not for a moment."
Myka was astonished. After everything, Helena was still concerned with her welfare. It convinced her, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Helena deserved a second chance. "I did it gladly. I wanted to know what was in my heart too. Whether I wanted you back because of guilt over the way things ended or… without you, I'm half of who I'm supposed to be. Please, I know you have no reason to take me back…"
Rolling Myka over, Helena put a finger to her lips. Her lotion-daubed hand smelt of berries. It made her scent as sweet as her words. "I have every reason. And you've given me more. I'm staying as long as you'll have me."
Myka rolled Helena into her arms. It felt so right. Like a part of her had died, and after months of clinging to life without it, she'd finally gotten a transplant. "Then you're staying a long damn time."
They laid next to each other, on their sides and in each others' arms, just enough distance between them to be able to look into each others' faces and see the warmth they'd thought had been lost.
"May we stay like this a while?" Helena asked, with a little pout in case Myka dared consider refusing.
"Oh, I'll grin and bear it, but only for an hour or so." Deliberately, Myka let go of her tension. She gathered up all the knots and knots of worry that swirled around her, asking what if Helena did this and what if Helena did that, and let them wilt under the power of Helena's skin, pressed against Myka like the morning sun caressing her body, promising her the darkness was gone. "I love you."
Myka had seen Helena smile many times, but never like this. There was always an edge to it, a cool remove where she could stand impervious, but not here. Here Helena was soft as marshmallow, not a single sharp end for Myka to cut herself on. "I love you too."
Myka pulled Helena just a little closer. Already, the pain of her cut back was eclipsed. "Say it like you say it."
Helena chuckled at the Americanism, but gave in to Myka's request, her sinuous winding around her body. After a lifetime and more of waiting, she had found what she'd lost. "My love. My dream. My fate."
Myka kissed her then, hard enough to risk setting their play off again. "My Helena."
Title: I Will Survive
Fandom: Warehouse 13
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 6,744
Notes: This story takes place during season 3.
Characters/Pairings: Myka/H.G.
Previous: Bastille Day
Summary: The one time Myka had her way with H.G. Wells
"Just admit it, I'm getting good at this."
Helena looked down at the tea Myka had brought her. It wasn't quite the exquisite flavor she had endeavored to recapture since being unbronzed, but there was something to say for variety. It wasn't unpleasant either, like Myka's first attempts. It was simply hot tea.
Ever since she'd gotten back to the Warehouse, Myka had been trying to make Helena feel at home while still keeping her distance. Claudia was running interference, Artie was keeping his mouth shut instead of openly attacking her, while Myka brought her souvenirs from assignments and meals from Univille. Helena needed them, since she often spent her nights in the Warehouse, bringing the work up to code. It wasn't the best way to avoid Myka, but it was all she had.
"It's quite adequate, thank you."
Myka couldn't beam at the tepid response, but she still offered Helena a polite smile. Holding up an Artifact bag, she shook its contents at Helena. "Wanna help me crate this?"
"I'm not allowed down on the floor, remember?" It was all Helena could do to keep sarcasm from dripping off her last word, but if Myka was going to be nice, there was no reason she couldn't be. She was of breeding, after all.
It worked, as Myka didn't show the least sign of being discouraged. "I promise to keep you on a tight leash. C'mon. You need to stretch those legs. How long have you been sitting in that chair?"
"I like this chair," Helena replied, giving herself a spin. "It rolls."
Myka giggled, killed it, and offered her hand. "Come on. Up."
Helena got up, but didn't take Myka's hand. They got all the way to the Edison's rail system before Helena spoke ("So you only want me for my bio-energy?"). Sitting next to each other instead of facing each other, both hands on the bar instead of gesturing or touching, Helena felt at ease enough to talk.
"What was the Artifact?" she asked abruptly.
"Linda Lovelace's dildo," Myka said matter-of-factly. "Pick it up and it feels like it's… yours."
"Seems harmless enough," Helena said. "I suppose an archival like that provides a clue to the gender of most Regents."
"And what would you use it for?" Myka asked, glancing over at Helena through her bangs.
Helena didn't respond to the straight line, kneading her fingers on the Edison's bar. It took a minute for her to look over at Myka again, see her again. "I can't do this. You know I can't do this."
"I know you want to. I know one day, you'll want to so much…"
"I don't want to get hurt," Helena said curtly. She tried to fight it, but her voice broke toward the end. The sadness in her voice cut into Myka, reminding her once more of how Helena had been hurt, just like she had.
Myka might have broken off, if she wasn't sure she was the only one who could stop Helena's pain. She let go of the bar and the car grinded to a halt. "I'm sorry for what I did, but how can we live without each other, feeling the way we do? Maybe you can be bitter and alone, but I can't be. I can't give up on you. So take as much time as you need, but don't ask me to stop feeling this way. Don't you think if I could, I would?"
Helena's fingers were white knuckles on the bar. "Put your hands back. Let's move on."
"Look at me. Tell me one thing I can do to make you happy."
"Put your hands on the damned bar, Bering. That will do."
Myka slapped her hands on the bar. The car jolted back into motion. She had to say something, but she didn't know if it would be a rejoinder or a love poem. Then she looked at Helena's face.
"Helena. You're crying."
Helena kept an iron grip on the bar, letting her tears fall where they may. "Can you blame me?"
Myka took her hands off the bar, turning Helena's face toward her and thumbing the moisture from her cheeks. With Myka's hands holding her face, all Helena could manage was a sniffle.
"I am here," Myka said. "I know I wasn't before, and I'm so sorry because you needed me. But I'm here now."
"I do appreciate that," Helena said, soft as air. "I just can't…"
"I know. I'm sorry. I know. So I'll just wait."
"Myka, no…"
"I've decided. I don't want someone else. I want someone brave and smart and amazing and beautiful. I want you. I'm willing to wait. If it takes twenty years, you'll see how I feel."
Helena grimaced before one more tear could emerge. "Hands on the bar, Myka."
***
They put the Artifact away, and Myka didn't protest as Helena wandered the halls. As long as she was supervised, it was fine. So Myka followed her, like a puppy, occasionally trying to draw her in by detailing an Artifact or asking about one that Helena clearly recognized. Helena was strangely silent, though. Not cold, as she could be, but deep in thought. She offered Myka wan looks whenever the woman tried to open a dialogue with her.
Finally, they came to a particular shelf Myka recognized from staring at from the inside of a mirror. "And here's where a man-eating serial killer took over my body."
"That only happens to me near liquor cabinets," Helena replied. Myka could only offer a sincere smile at Helena's spirits raising. She didn't even protest as Helena grabbed an Artifact screen and scrolled through it. "Studio 54's disco ball. Simply give it a spin and it strips away inhibitions, leaving only raw, naked desire."
Somewhere along the line, Myka had started finding Helena's sauciness almost as adorable as it was seductive. It was all she could do to keep from hugging the Englishwoman, touching her in some way. She hoped she got the chance before the desire faded. "I don't think you've ever needed an Artifact to have that effect."
"Have I not?" Helena turned to Myka, still clutching the screen. "Agent Bering, I have a proposition."
Myka piqued an eyebrow. "You should know by now how open I am."
Helena's smile was weak, but there. "If you accept, I'll give us another chance. If not, we call it off. You respect my wishes and move on to… I don't know, Pete if you like."
"There's no need to be insulting."
"I don't trust you. I can't, because I don't know what's in your heart. If you truly love me or—" Helena broke off, sucking her lips in for a moment before raising her chin like a prize-fighter inviting a shot. "Use the disco ball. Rid yourself of your inhibitions, your civilization, your armor. Let me see the real you."
"You want me to use an Artifact for personal gain?" Myka repeated.
"I didn't say I wanted you to use it. I merely stated a condition you would fulfill to win me back, which is what you claim to want. If you're not up to it, it's no business of mine."
"I need time to think."
Helena finally gave in to the bitterness welling up inside her. "Think as much as you want, Myka. You're so good at it."
***
As seemed her lot in life, Helena was torn. She regretted forcing Myka's hand, putting such cold terms on their relationship. Yet it felt right, slipping out of purgatory into either reconciliation or a clean break. She honestly didn't know which way Myka would decide. Therein lay the problem.
The one thing she didn't expect was for Myka to choose so quickly.
She returned from the Warehouse, brushing off Leena's attempts to be cordial, crawled up the stairs and into her room. As soon as she'd opened the door, another presence disturbed her. She wasn't permitted a Tesla, so Helena simply settled into a fighting stance, padding inside before the intruder could tell she knew something was amiss.
"Shut the door," Myka's voice came, firm as steel, "and lock it."
Helena rounded the corner to see Myka seated in her favorite chair, a wingback she'd imported all the way from Italy. "It's late, Myka. I haven't time for this--the latest round in our détente—and a full night's sleep."
Myka smiled insincerely at her. "Close the door or I'll fuck you out in the hallway where everyone can see."
Helena would've gasped if she were less of a lady. Myka didn't talk like that. Ever. "The Artifact."
Myka said nothing, only tilted her head to the side. Her smile was a bit more genuine now.
Helena closed the door and secured the lock. She walked back into the main room with Myka—this new, dangerous, exhilarating Myka—and pulled up a chair. They regarded each other across the room.
"What are you thinking?" Helena asked.
"Wouldn't it be boring if I told you?"
"Give me a hint then."
"What's the magic word?"
Helena couldn't keep a tinge of excitement out of one simple word. "Please." As much as she loved Myka for being so incorruptibly good, the fact of the matter was that she'd also always been attracted to the mad, the impossible, the craven. People were no exception. Just the way this Myka sat sent a warm tingle down her spine. It'd been so long since their interactions hadn't been stained with shame and betrayal. This was so close to a fresh start it terrified her.
Myka tapped her fingers on her leg, hitting the book sitting closed in her lap. Once Helena had noticed it, Myka flipped it open. She read, her voice sliding over every word like a faint caress. "'In his bedroom, Freddy and I made a most risqué discovery. Our clothes removed, bodies half-hidden by candelight, he entreated me to lie across his knee like a naughty schoolgirl. Ever willing, I acquiesced, and he paddled me as if I were a very naughty schoolgirl indeed. In the context of the boudoir, however, the most exciting metamorphosis took place. My pain was transmuted into a new and daring pleasure, such that I could not be dissuaded from pulling away from his embrace after but a minute and mounting him as the jockey does the horse, much to his consternation. It took him a while longer than I had to come around, an unfortunate failing of the male gender I should think, but he quickly grew to see the potency of my new hierarchy. We crossed the finish line neck-and-neck, and so were enjoined to try the race again, armed with this pleasurable alchemy of pain into sexual bliss."
Despite her willingness for these new circumstances, Helena felt a stab of offense. "That's my diary! It is private!"
"Relax, Helena." Myka tossed the book to the ground, where Helena was mollified to see it fell closed. "I didn't read the parts about me. I may be uninhibited, but I'm still a woman. Really, I just wanted to know what made you tick. And you tick quite a lot, don't you?"
"I enjoy myself. I wish I could say the same for you."
Myka checked her watch. "Disco isn't dead for another ten hours. A night of dancing. I intend to enjoy myself a great deal." She undid her belt, the unneeded length of leather springing free from her buckle to point directly at Helena. "Come closer."
Helena stood. She walked over to Myka. Picked up her diary and placed it securely in a drawer in her desk, which she then locked.
Myka laughed. "Are you going to sulk like a child all night, or are you going to enjoy me, unfettered and unashamed?"
"That's not the point of this exercise, is it?" Helena insisted. "I wanted to know what your true feelings for me were. I always knew you wanted to have sex with me. From the moment we met, you were as willing as a two-bit whore paid five shillings. I have to know what's underneath, what's deep within."
"The night is young," Myka drawled, her fingers slipping over her crotch, up to the jutting tongue of belt leather. "I'll see if I can go deep enough for you." Her finger tensing on the belt, she slowly drew it out of her trousers. The whistle of leather through belt loops made Helena shift on her heels with a certain anxiety. "You can be so modest, Helena, even in your diary. Oh, that whole pain into pleasure business is sexy as hell, but you're not much for details. Was his prick long or fat? Did you take it in your mouth or between your tits? Maybe up the ass? I wouldn't put it past you."
"A lady doesn't tell and a gentleman doesn't ask."
"Good thing it's just us girls then." Myka dropped her belt to the floor like a snake-charmer done with her act. "Come. Closer," she reiterated.
Helena found herself pulled to Myka, drawn in by the sheer forcefulness of her sexuality. It had never happened to her before. Even her most able lovers hadn't been able to… hold her like this.
"Unzip my fly," Myka ordered.
"So your most decadent fantasy is for me to be your servant," Helena said over the rattle of the zipper opening. "How depressing."
"Not quite." Myka reached into her breast pocket and pulled out a banknote, opening it crisply in front of Helena. Sir John Houblon stared at her. "Fifty pounds. Tonight, you'll be the whore and I'll be the john."
Helena wasn't offended by the suggestion. After all, she'd already dismissed her diary being read. She took the bill and tucked it into her backpocket. "Fifty pounds? Having sampled the goods, surely you have a better concept of their worth."
"Consider it a down payment. Reach into my pants for the next installment."
Helena dipped into Myka's open fly, feeling something hard and round waiting for her. "Oh, Agent Bering. If I could be paid in that, I should have been the wealthiest woman in London."
"I think you'd better deposit it in the bank before someone rips you off," Myka suggested, working her 'cock' out of the boy-panties she wore to accommodate it. As Helena had suspected, it was Lovelace's dildo, strapped to Myka's hips by some particularly sturdy looking leather.
"And which vault should I lock it in?" Helena asked, getting down on her knees. She leaned close enough to the dildo for her words to breeze against it, and an answering shudder went through Myka's body. As useless as MacPherson had turned out to be, he had been quite right about certain Artifacts' potential, in the proper hands.
Helena intended for the Lovelace to be used quite properly in her hands.
"Your mouth, Helena," Myka answered, back under control. "I think we both know that nothing gets out of there unless you want it to."
"Bollocks!" Helena replied, teasingly.
A moment later, Myka's head was thrown back and her eyes were clenched shut. As much as she'd planned the encounter, and even experimented with jacking herself off (it had felt great, which explained a lot about Pete), she'd had no idea Helena would so quick overwhelm her senses.
"Do you even have a gag reflex!?" Myka demanded, exasperated. Even with her lips stretched, Helena managed a smile. It was good to know that even without inhibitions, Myka was still Myka.
Helena knew the modern feminism movement had an air of distaste for such phallocentric sex acts, but she'd always enjoyed giving good head. The lack of stimulation on her end was more than made up for by the sheer control she exerted over her power. Once she had her lips around their most sensitive organ—not to mention her hands having access to their other vulnerabilities—they were utterly in her power.
Case in point: Helena dragged herself off the dildo, enjoying the growing distress on Myka's face as her lover received less and less pleasure, yet still too enraptured to do anything about it. When the dildo, slick and warm, popped out of Helena's mouth, she grabbed it with a tight fist and gave it a happy jerk. By the long moan Myka gave, she was mollified.
"Hold this for me," Helena asked, pushing the dildo up towards Myka.
Myka unthinkingly took hold of it. Despite being nothing more than silicone, the once-rubbery material was now as rigid as dried cement. "What are you doing?" she demanded.
Helena had taken off her jacket, and now took her sweet time in folding it. She planned to be equally fastidious with her buttondown shirt. "You asked about Freddy. To answer your question, I did take him in my mouth, and I did rub my breasts all over his manhood. I intend to do the same to you, so grin and bear it."
Myka did grin. Then she put her foot against Helena and shoved, hard, sending Helena crashing down on her back. Myka stood up and stepped on Helena's chest, pressing down with just enough of her weight to make breathing an active concern. "I don't think you understand. You don't get to be in charge. You're a whore. And I've got money. So I'm going to use you as I see fit. And you'll enjoy it. Just like you're enjoying it right now. Aren't you?"
Helena's breath was coming fast, and Myka wasn't pressing down that hard. "Yes. I am."
"Good." Myka took her foot away, giving Helena a moment to breathe. "But since you're so eager to show me your tetons—"
She crouched over Helena, straddling her, to rip open her shirt. Buttons flew across the room and Myka could now see Helena's breasts heaving in all their glory, except for the bra that constrained them. Reaching into her pocket, she came up with a switchblade.
"Myka--!" Helena gasped as the blade came out. Her voice was almost orgasmic.
Myka cut Helena's bra open, not so much as nicking Helena's skin. The bra cups fell to either side and Myka took a moment to run her hand over Helena's chest. Not the kind of lower back problems that Pete seemed unable to keep his eyes off of, but not too small either. They were perfectly suited to Myka's hand, her long, slender fingers drawing in every gradients of their curves. Myka let go of Helena's left breast and paid similar courtesy to the right, pinching the nipple between her finger and twisting just a little, walking the fine line between pain and pleasure. Helena's helpless leer showed her what side she ended up on.
"And as long as I'm here," Myka said under her breath, now moving the knife to Helena's trousers. As Helena panted, her desire not to move warring with her need to fuck Myka senseless, Myka cut away her trousers with surgical precision, leaving them a mess of fabric ready to blow away at the first breeze.
The air conditioning wasn't on.
Tapping the very tip of the knife against Helena's belt buckle, Myka moved lower, brushing away scraps of fabric from her panties. Myka giggled at the sight of them. She hadn't noticed Helena's bra in all the excitement, but Helena's panties were of the same set—red and lacy, whorish even. Myka's smile stayed on her face as she slit the waistband on either side, leaving the panties in place by sheer will.
"We can come back to those later," she said, moving over Helena. The blade retracted back into its hilt and Myka tucked the knife away. Helena was gasping as if it were held to her throat.
Myka crawled over her on all fours, taking in the entire package. The smell of Helena's groin, the sweat beading her midsection. She dipped her head and licked at a breast in passing, prompting a groan from Helena. Then she reached Helena's face. Her flushed, begging face. Her brown eyes slits, but it was hard to tell if it was in suspicion or arousal. Slowly, Myka brought her hand to Helena's face. She touched it and found it blazing hot, but more, Helena's mouth lapsed open at the contact.
"Myka," she said gently. "What are you doing?"
"What do you want me to be doing?" Myka replied. Her fingers moved over Helena's delicate skin, down an aristocratic cheekbone to her mouth. A fingertip felt the glossy finish of Helena's lipstick.
"I'm your whore, remember?" Helena insisted. Her lips trembled as Myka's fingers circled it. "Use me."
Myka ran her finger down Helena's lips, watching her bottom lip open, revealing those wonderfully sharp teeth. She pulled her hand away. "Get on the bed."
"I thought we were going to—"
"Get on the bed. Bend over it."
Myka pulled back into a kneel, making it clear she wouldn't be touching Helena until the Englishwoman obeyed. Slowly, Helena got up, her ruined clothes falling away. She divested herself of the jacket and shirt hanging open from her shoulders and despite everything, she enjoyed the look in Myka's eyes. There was no control in it, just lust, her eyes openly drinking in Helena's body. Helena gave her the full picture, turning around to go to the bed and then bending over its side so Myka wouldn't see how wet she was.
Myka stood, stroking the dildo that hung through her pants. She still wore everything but her belt, and while Helena's brain feverishly ran through justifications, all she could come up with was that Myka had all the power. It was just like that horrid pornography that seemed to have twisted sex into something simultaneously shameful and obscene. The one with no clothes was vulnerable, controlled, while the other didn't even have to sacrifice the fold of his pants.
Why then did Myka undress?
Myka started with her heels, neatly slipping them off her feet. The sight of Myka's bare feet sinking into the carpet made Helena feel oddly warm. She looked sidelong at Myka as the woman shrugged off her jacket and tossed it uncaringly to the floor; stepping closer, she unbuttoned her blouse and let it slip off. At the foot of the bed, Myka skimmed off her pants. Helena bit her lip—both the pink of her womanhood and the coral of her nipples were still concealed, and it struck her as profoundly unfair.
"You can look, Helena," Myka said, her voice no longer strident, but barely more than a whisper. It coiled in Helena's ear and ran down to her crotch. "Look at me. It's for you. This is all for you." She reached behind her to unfasten her bra.
Immediately, the bra dipped, revealing more of her cleavage to Helena's scouring eyes. Helena dug her fingers into the bedsheets to keep from touching them—they were so close, Myka was so close.
Myka slipped the bra straps off her arms and nothing covered her skin but the straps of the dildo and her long curly hair. Helena stared at her breasts, tantalizingly obscured by her hair… they seemed even more perfect than Helena remembered, firm and lovely and round.
Helena lifted herself up, revealing herself to Myka, and was gratified to see Myka's eyes widen at the sight. Moving onto her side, hand cocked on her hip, Helena stared into Myka like the picture of temptation.
Then Myka saw her cringe—the memories crashing in once more. The last time they'd done this, Helena had been at peace, Myka had been at peace, and then it had all twisted away. Kneeling down beside the bed, Myka reached out to Helena—taking her hand. There was nothing intimate about it, but somehow Helena felt herself lighten.
"You wanted to know what my innermost desire was?" Myka asked. "I don't have some prostitute fantasy. I don't care who's on top or who wears the pants or whatever you call it in Britain. I just want to see you happy."
Standing, she circled around behind Helena, not letting go of her hand until the last possible moment. Gently, she pressed Helena back down to the bed. Her hands meshed in Helena's hair, pulling it to the side, off the beautiful expanse of her back. Then her fingers circled Helena's shoulders, slowly running down her sides, brushing the outside of her breasts, down the barest hint of her ribcage in her slender abdomen, fitting to her hips and squeezing, Myka bringing the dildo forward, teasing Helena with the very tip.
Helena closed her eyes and sighed, burying her face in the satin sheets of her bed.
"No," Myka said, kissing Helena's shoulder. She rolled Helena over, onto her back, and they saw each other once more. Helena couldn't stop her lips from twitching, a smile—there was something so Myka there, now that she wasn't acting, her quirked grin and a hand nervously brushing a lock of hair back into place. "I want to see you."
"I want your visage as well. I wish to keep seeing you. Not as a reminder of what I've lost, but—in the morning, and before bed, and wherever I can find you." The admission startled Helena. She wondered if perhaps she'd been exposed to an Artifact as well, or maybe Myka's longing for her had simply created one. Her usual armor of cool humor and British remove, which she'd thought had become impenetrable after Myka's betrayal, was nowhere in sight. Everything she could possibly feel coursed through her. This woman had brought her out of the bronze more than the Warehouse ever could.
Sitting up, Helena threw herself on Myka. She would've borne her to the ground if the wall hadn't got in the way. Myka's back slammed into it, Helena pressing hard against her, and she would've apologized to Myka if she wasn't sure that stopping for a chat would be a bigger sin than a little bruising.
Helena showered Myka with kisses, desperate to get the flavor of her back on her tongue. The dildo was jammed hard enough to Helena's thigh to leave an imprint, but Helena had no interest in toys and games just then. She wanted Myka. She'd wanted Myka all the days she'd been imprisoned and she'd wanted Myka as soon as she'd gotten out, it'd just been safer not to admit it.
Pulling back, Helena felt herself growl. The sight of Myka, lustful eyes and kiss-swollen lips, hair a mess, was a potent enough aphrodisiac to turn Helena into an animal. She grabbed Myka by the hair and forced her down to the junction between her neck and shoulder. Myka got the message. She caressed Helena's throat just the way only she could, not quite a bite and not quite a kiss.
"I'll be your whore," Helena said. "Your girlfriend. Your mistress. Whatever you want me to be, but have me, have me."
Myka bit down on Helena's throat and Helena felt a tremor go through her legs. Before she could even moan, Myka had spun her around and shoved her against the wall. "Absolutely. And it's girlfriend. Definitely girlfriend." Myka tried to approach her again, but her dildo butted against Helena's waist.
Myka was pulling at a strap when Helena grabbed the Lovelace. "Use it. You've had me every way a woman can have another woman. Now claim me as a man claims a woman."
Myka snorted. "You are just so damn Victorian sometimes."
"Oh?" Helena quirked an eyebrow. "And is this so very Victorian?" she asked, dropping to her knees.
"What--?" Myka started to say, before her next sight of Helena was a mass of dark hair bobbing up and down on her. This time, the pleasure of the blowjob came to her in a flood. Helena wasn't toying with her, she was squeezing an orgasm out of Myka like a python crushing its prey. Before she knew it, Myka had to palm the wall to stay upright. With her other hand, she reached down and fisted Helena's hair, pulling it out of the way to get a glimpse of Helena's hungry eyes as she looked up at Myka.
With a wink, Helena released Myka and stood again. Even more insouciantly, she kissed Myka on the cheek.
"No wonder all my boyfriends were so crazy for that!" Myka gasped.
"Really? Not to disparage the taste of the average American male, but the rest of your body holds so many wonders all its own." Helena spat in her hand and reached down to lubricate Myka further. Myka's entire body tensed. Falling over wasn't a problem anymore. Being able to move without breaking in half was.
With one last maddening squeeze, Helena released Myka and backed against the wall, between a chest of drawers and the TV stand. She planted her hands on both, sarcastically holding herself steady. "I'm ready, Myka. Virgin territory, just waiting for you to plant your flag."
"Virgin?" Myka asked, eyebrow raised, as she forced herself to take a teeny step forward. Her cock was motionless in front of her. It was literally rock-hard.
"Is not every woman onto a virgin at the start of a great love affair?" Helena asked with the air of a poet, ruined by her lazy smirk.
"This isn't the start."
"Yes. It is. No more secrets. No more mistrust. We start anew, here. I trust you, Myka Bering. Do you trust me?"
Myka touched her dildo to Helena's sex. "With all my heart. Shall I?"
"If I wait any longer, I'll combust."
"You asked for it." She put her hand to Helena's chest, avoiding the hard nipples straining for her touch, and pressed Helena back against the wall. Then her hand moved lower, down to meet Myka's other hand, coming up Helena's smooth hips. They stopped, steadying Helena's pelvis as the Englishwoman trembled with excitement. Myka moved her foot between Helena's spread legs and stepped forward. With the first twinge of motion, she lodged the head of her cock inside Helena, stopping to process just how hot and smooth and wet Helena was.
Helena smiled with supreme satisfaction. "Is it in yet?"
Myka smiled right back at her. She drove her hips at Helena, sinking nearly the full length of her shaft deep within Helena. Even as the Englishwoman gasped, Myka's lips met hers. By the end of the kiss, Helena was even more shaken than she had been by the penetration. She bit her lip and tried to grow used to the feel of Myka inside her.
Myka was enraptured as well, her head tilted back and her eyes nearly shut. Only the promise of the wanton look on Helena's face could draw her out of her reverie. She opened her eyes and lost her breath. Helena looked sated, content, yet her eyes begged Myka for more.
Myka reached down, her fingers stretching across the bottom of Helena's thighs, and lifted her legs up to wrap around Myka's waist. Totally in Myka's power, Helena slid down on the cock, vocal now, letting go of a series of yeses in husky whisper. Her legs tightened around Myka, unable to draw her any closer than she already was, but making sure she wasn't going anywhere. Her arms followed suit, clasping around Myka's back, and Helena lowered her chin to Myka's shoulder, completely abandoning any stance to open herself up to Myka's pleasure.
"Do with me as you will," she begged. Her voice wouldn't have reached Myka's ear if her lips weren't right next to it.
"Because you're my whore?" Myka asked, wondering if Helena still hadn't gotten that fantasy out of her system. She was bored of it.
"Because I love you. And I'll show it any way I can." Helena's legs tightened around Myka, almost painfully, her body undulating seemingly of its own accord. But by the mischievous glint in Helena's eye, she knew exactly what effect she was having on Myka. "You can do anything you want to me!" Helena said, her voice taking on a fierce fervor. "Anything at all!"
"I intend to!" Myka said, suddenly driving herself into Helena, and Helena against the wall. Helena squealed as Myka dove to the hilt inside her, then could only communicate by long shuddering moan as Myka drew herself slowly out, overpowering the grip Helena's legs had on her. Helena protested desperately as Myka's cockhead nearly escaped her, and her eyes flew open in relief as Myka pushed her way back in. Helena dug her feet into Myka's back, begging for more.
Myka gave it to her, her fingers scratching to get behind Helena's ass even as her own body jammed it against the wall, but finally she had her, she could both pull Helena in and push her against the wall. Helena did nothing less, flinging herself against Myka's raging penetration. "I've never felt anything like it, never, never!"
"You will again!" Myka promised, hitching Helena up to seek her breasts with her teeth. The taste of sweat and something uniquely Helena swirled in her mouth as she suckled urgently, trying desperately to keep Helena's nipples in her mouth as the Englishwoman bounded up and down. "I'm going to fuck you like this every night! Every hour!"
Helena felt herself catch fire. She screeched and clawed Myka's back and stiffened with passion, throwing her head back against the wall so hard that years from then, there would be a dent that Helena would look at before smiling with remembered bliss.
""I'm yours! Make me yours! Take me!" Helena screamed. All rationality, all pretense had abandoned her. She waved goodbye to them gladly. She didn't need them, not with Myka. "I'm going to come!" she sputtered, forcing her eyes open to see Myka's face, her beauty. "Kiss me! For the love of God, kiss me!"
She groped for Myka's mouth with her own, kissing Myka's cheeks and throat before meeting her. Myka's tongue snaked against hers, somehow refining the pleasure of the cock buried inside her. Myka clenched her hand in Helena's hair, pressing their mouths together harder. Helena finally pulled herself away to gasp in air, and Myka rammed her against the wall. She felt as if she were going to split open, to make more room for Myka to fill her with pleasure.
"Come," Myka said, ordering, begging.
For the first time, Helena felt her orgasm distinct from her pleasure, the first rolling swells of it, then it came crashing down on her. Her teeth clamped down as it drove air and sound from her body, paralyzing her, then she cried out and the sound was like the orgasm, a blinding roaring rush of heat and noise, obliterating everything but the pleasure that ran through her, reminding her that she was alive and not laid to peaceful rest.
"Yours," Helena said as she swallowed Myka in her churning body, "yours," as she sucked the orgasm out of her straining cock, "yours," as she heard Myka's panting breath, felt her muscles harden like molten lead hit by cold water. "Yours!" Helena yelled, matching the strangled cried Myka gave as she orgasmed, sinking herself deep into Helena, their bodies crushing together by mutual choice, until their orgasm had finished with them.
Myka staggered backwards, determined to hold Helena up, until they fell together onto the bed. Helena moaned at the pleasure of the dildo shifting inside her; too much, too soon, as much as she wished she could keep it inside her forever and never end the moment, she had to ease it out for the sake of her sanity.
"You're so good to me," she told Myka gently, sleep taking her already. Myka had fucked her into unconsciousness, several minutes ago in fact, but her pleasure had kept her going like a caffeine high. Without it, she might as well have been in a coma. "Soooo good to me, so good… Myka…"
Myka wrapped her arms around Helena and followed suit.
***
"That is how you make a cup of tea," Helena said, pouring Myka a cup. She had a point. It smelled delectable.
Myka had just woken up to find Helena sitting at the bedside, a tea tray already prepared on the bedstand. She took the offered tea cup and winced. Her head was not exactly pounding, but definitely throbbing, and little scales of pain played down her back. Myka brushed the sheets aside and saw a small amount of blood smeared around the mattress.
"My fault, I'm afraid." Helena held up her nails, which had reached a finely manicured length. "In your absence, I pampered myself a little and, well… rest assured I'll trim these before we pursue more extracurricular activities."
"My back…" Myka murmured. "Oh. It was worth it."
"I agree, but then, I'm not the one with the war wounds. On your belly, love."
Myka followed orders. "You're insatiable."
"Don't flatter yourself, Myka. I am able to restrain myself. Barely." Picking up a bottle of lotion from the floor, Helena squeezed some out into her palm and worked it into a lather before touching Myka's naked back. Myka cringed instantly. It felt like she'd been used as a lion's scratching post.
"I owe you an apology," Helena said, pulling Myka away from the pleasure of her touch. By her tone, she wasn't talking about the scratches.
"No. You don't owe me anything. I'm lucky to—"
Helena moved her hands to Myka's neck, openly massaging her. Myka felt what seemed to be years of stress peel away. She didn't know if it was Helena's skill or just the fact that it was her. "If I bribe you with a rubdown, will you lend me your ears with your silence?"
Myka sighed into her pillow.
"I know how highly you value your discipline. You're rightly proud of it. I should never have asked you to give that up, not for a moment."
Myka was astonished. After everything, Helena was still concerned with her welfare. It convinced her, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Helena deserved a second chance. "I did it gladly. I wanted to know what was in my heart too. Whether I wanted you back because of guilt over the way things ended or… without you, I'm half of who I'm supposed to be. Please, I know you have no reason to take me back…"
Rolling Myka over, Helena put a finger to her lips. Her lotion-daubed hand smelt of berries. It made her scent as sweet as her words. "I have every reason. And you've given me more. I'm staying as long as you'll have me."
Myka rolled Helena into her arms. It felt so right. Like a part of her had died, and after months of clinging to life without it, she'd finally gotten a transplant. "Then you're staying a long damn time."
They laid next to each other, on their sides and in each others' arms, just enough distance between them to be able to look into each others' faces and see the warmth they'd thought had been lost.
"May we stay like this a while?" Helena asked, with a little pout in case Myka dared consider refusing.
"Oh, I'll grin and bear it, but only for an hour or so." Deliberately, Myka let go of her tension. She gathered up all the knots and knots of worry that swirled around her, asking what if Helena did this and what if Helena did that, and let them wilt under the power of Helena's skin, pressed against Myka like the morning sun caressing her body, promising her the darkness was gone. "I love you."
Myka had seen Helena smile many times, but never like this. There was always an edge to it, a cool remove where she could stand impervious, but not here. Here Helena was soft as marshmallow, not a single sharp end for Myka to cut herself on. "I love you too."
Myka pulled Helena just a little closer. Already, the pain of her cut back was eclipsed. "Say it like you say it."
Helena chuckled at the Americanism, but gave in to Myka's request, her sinuous winding around her body. After a lifetime and more of waiting, she had found what she'd lost. "My love. My dream. My fate."
Myka kissed her then, hard enough to risk setting their play off again. "My Helena."
