Title: Baby
Author: Me
Disclaimer: No belong to meh.
Pairing: Dinah/Helena, kinda Helena/Reese
Note: This is just to relieve my block. I promise I will get to my other story soon!




I half listen to his drabbling banter and half heartedly shoot some vague come on that will keep him talking until he finally lets me leave. On and on and on, his flashy little smiles, brow raises, and coat flipping. I'm about to breakdown and cry with annoyance when I find myself inconveniently pinned against a wall. He's breathing on me and giving me a look which I think is intended to turn me on. I put my hands on his chest to push him away, but instead he's leaning in, big pouty lips craving for a taste. Ugh. Forcing him off, he brings his hands up and yells, "What the hell is your problem?!" I look at him closely, then draw back. What the hell is my problem? Like I haven't asked myself that question before. I am acutely aware of what my problem is. My problem comes in a very girl shaped package with southern sweet baby blue eyes and a body that hurts to look at. My problem smells like strawberry and tastes like sugar, and would I know. She's etched into my skin, trailing her long but jagged nails over my back. If there were anyone that I'd willingly let pin me against a wall, it's her. Though that's only because she does it right. Hands placed firmly on my hips, she swerves, slides, and slithers about me. Patterns of fire making their way from my lips to my neck to my everywhere else. She does things with her tongue you never thought were possible. Especially from a girl like her. Sometimes it makes me wonder, exactly where baby learned all her wonderful tricks. You wouldn't believe me if I told you the little things she does that can make even me blush. Baby may not swear like a sailor but she can twist your insides with turns and moves that leave you drooling. Her curve, her swagger, and the dip of her navel. She knows that you're looking. She knows that I'M looking. She knows because she slinks herself over me and hisses into my ear words that every red blooded teenage boy begs to hear from girls like her. Only difference is, baby doesn't lie. So what's my problem you ask? My problem is the little vixen girl who whispered her little vixen words, and she's left me with an itch that I need her to scratch. But I doubt hunky mystery man Reese could care any less for that. So when he asks me what my problem was for the millionth time, I smile like a good girl and say, "Nothing."