Disclaimer: The characters of Warehouse 13 is not mine, sadly.
Warning: This story contains strap-on sex and not much else.
Helena finds it quite curious that she so often ends up like this, filled with thoughts that are highly inappropriate considering the company she's in. While Artie drifts away into an overly detailed description of the history of the violin, Helena amuses herself with imaginary reactions to her fantasies being spoken out loud.
Predictably, Pete would grin like he had won first prize in a pizza-eating contest at the thought of Helena and Myka kissing deeply in the hallway of the B&B.
Claudia would blush and stutter at the idea of Myka's nipples stiffening under Helena's hands.
Leena would smile unembarrassed in that knowing way of hers at the image of undulating bodies next to a crackling fire.
Artie… Helena decides not to go there.
She glances over at Myka again, and happily notes that she's still chewing on her bottom lip with a far away look on her face. It can be taken for thoughtfulness regarding violins, but Helena knows better. She notes how Myka's cheeks bear the faintest hint of a blush, and the way her fingers play deliberately with a napkin.
Helena has plans that make this dinner seem endless.
By the looks of things, so does Myka.
xXx
It all started with the Internet. Helena finds it usually does these days. No matter how strongly she denies it in the presence of, well, everyone except possibly herself on occasion, she loves it. It's a thousand libraries and motion pictures and facts and fiction all thrown together into a carousel of knowledge and make-believe and straight out lunacy. Come to think of it, it's rather like the masquerade balls she used to attend in London, but with less glamour and, if possible, more perversions.
And that perversion…is another reason Helena loves the Internet. It introduced her to the modern day selection of sex toys, and online shopping. It's marvellous really; one clicks a few times on the mouse and a couple of days later that translates to someone at your door asking for a signature and handing over a package. A package containing things that even Helena wouldn't have imagined back in the days, and that's saying something.
Yesterday, the package contained a strap-on. Oh, they did have such contraptions in 19th century England, and Helena may even have used one once or twice, but those were not made of such exquisite materials or available in such a wide range of colours, textures, and sizes as in this time. Not to mention the different types of harnesses on offer today; leather, nylon, for your hips or leg, made up of thin straps or as an entire garment in itself.
And right now, it so happens that Helena is veryinterested in trying out this strap-on for, shall we say, its intended purpose.
xXx
After dinner, Myka opens the front door and steps out into the mild autumn night. She decides to walk around the garden, and starts down a stone-paved path lined with rose bushes that has few days left to blossom. Drawing a couple of deep, cleansing breaths, she isn't surprised when the door opens again and Helena steps out onto the porch. Myka can feel her searching gaze trying to penetrate the darkness, and stands perfectly still, quickly devising a plan for surprising her. She tiptoes around the perimeter of the garden, keeping an eye on Helena and where she seems to be heading, which is straight onto the lawn, stopping in the middle of it and bending her head backwards. She's watching the stars, Myka realises fondly.
Myka is intensely fascinated by Helena; her quirks, smiles, the way she walks, the way her accent wraps around Myka's nerve endings, making even the simplest words enticing. She tried not to be, because Helena captures everyone (except Artie), and Myka isn't a fan of being like everyone else. But oh god that knowing smirk and subtle lifting of eyebrows that made Myka realise Helena could see right through her stoic resolve.
And so Myka likes to think that their first kiss a few months ago had been inevitable. Afterwards she took certain pride in the hint of surprise she had seen in Helena's eyes as she stepped closer than they had ever been, reclaiming some of the lost control together with Helena's soft lips.
Treading lightly towards the middle of the lawn, Myka thinks she might actually make it this time. At first the thought refers to the act of surprising the thoughtful woman a few steps away, but as soon as the thought is fully formed, the excitement flowing through her body is not just about this moment. It might actually work out, the two of them. Myka smiles into the night. That would be something. Bering and Wells, being each other's for a very long time to come. She would like that.
Myka holds her breath and comes to a halt a few steps behind her target. Helena's hair cascades down her back and has taken on an almost metallic glow in the moonlight. Myka can't resist the urge to touch it when she has crossed the final, small distance. But there's no jump or startled noise at her touch. Instead a content murmur meets Myka's encircling arms as Helena snuggles back to meet her embrace. As usual, surprising one H. G. Wells is a futile attempt. Rolling her eyes, Myka kisses Helena's cheek and inhales her familiar scent.
You are beautiful, my darling.
xXx
Candles are the only light source in the room; Helena much prefers it this way, though the fire in Myka's kiss certainly didn't need a romantic stage to be lit. She is also very naked, they both are, and Helena's hand is underway to one of her favourite places in the world. Myka's chest is rising and falling to the rhythm of the hand on her neck, breasts, stomach, and thighs. Helena feels intoxicated by the response; even the tiniest reaction to her touch seems to flow through her own veins until she's giddy with the power, the mastery, the knowledge that she caused the sweet ache visible in Myka's eyes.
Then fingers are sliding through liquid warmth and Helena smiles when she tastes the small vibrations from Myka's moans on her tongue.
Later, Helena is opening the second drawer in her nightstand to retrieve the latest purchase. Without a word, she hands it over to Myka who grins half-shyly, half-excitedly.
Really, Helena, you're giving it a name?
Helena is of no help in the fitting and adjusting, rather the opposite as she can't keep her hands to herself. Her attention is captured by that fascinating place on Myka's lower back, and they should really just kiss for a while before that last strap is tightened and Helena can't reach down to touch her just like so.
Eventually though, Myka takes hold of Helena's hands and pushes her gently, but firmly, down on the bed.
Briefly stopping to look down at the dildo, Myka feels an odd mixture of silly and powerful. A blush spreads suddenly across her chest and cheeks, as if she's only now realising what they're about to do.
Helena reads her easily and says softly, "Don't be ashamed. It suits you".
Myka closes her eyes and inhales deeply, trying to identify the feeling. "I feel…naked."
"Well you are, darling. I can't seem to look away."
"I meant…" She gestures vaguely towards the dildo.
"I know what you meant."
Nothing more is said after that. But eyes lock and uncertainty, reassurance, and tenderness pass between them wordlessly.
And after a while, it's as if something breaks in Myka. Or perhaps it is mended, created or born. Her body hums and her eyes roam slowly, deliberately over Helena's body, enjoying the sharp intake of breath it causes.
I'm yours.
The firmly secured leather straps around Myka's upper thighs are holding her up, giving her the dominance she just recently learned she desired. She reaches for a small bottle and when the cold gel warms in her hand, a faint scent of vanilla mingles with the cinnamon from a scented candle.
Helena studies the minute changes in Myka's expression as she spreads the gel over soft silicone. There's still a hint of embarrassment on her cheeks, but parted lips and quick breathing are slowly chasing it away as her eyes focus intently on their task.
It feels strange to Myka to touch herself like this - to touch itlike this - deliberately, as if it's a part of her. But it's only strange because it's new, and as she raises her gaze to Helena's again, the act stops being only practical. She gives into the sensation of the leather rubbing pleasantly against her clit as she moves her hand up and down the dildo. Helena is watching her with dark eyes and the unreadable expression she sometimes gets when there are too many impressions to sort through at once. Her legs though, have fallen apart to reveal the unmistakeable wetness that Myka coaxed out earlier with deep kisses and skilful hands.
Myka is about to fuck her.
She feels only powerful now.
xXx
Inside, deeper, slower, harder. There's a strange familiarity to her movements, Myka thinks, as if she has woken an old memory from another time. Or maybe she's just meant to be here in this moment, inside, embraced. Maybe the droplet of sweat trickling between Helena's breasts was always meant to be there just now. Myka bends down and tastes its salty warmth on her tongue.
Breathless.
She remembers Helena's act of indifference and superiority the first time they met. Myka had been anti-gravitated to the ceiling, more than a little stunned by who put her there. Helena had played her like a fine-tuned instrument from day one, and even if Myka had realised that sooner, she doubts she would have turned away.
A candle flickers and dies, and somewhere in the house Trailer is barking at mocking crows outside the window, but Helena can only hear Myka's mouth on her nipple, Myka's hand that is buried in her hair, and her hips and the strap-on that pulls her upwards, closer…
Helena had annoyed Myka at first, much more than she annoyed anyone else (except Artie), and yet she couldn't stop noticing things about her, shallow things that she shouldn't notice about an enemy, deeper things that intrigued her despite knowing she should keep a distance, and then… this person who couldn't possibly have been Myka because she didn't go against the rules like this, helped Helena get reinstated.
And here they are, two people that should never have met, inevitably drawn together in mind and body and soul. Myka wonders, half-seriously, if there will come a day when she wakes up from this dream.
But right now there's nothing more spellbinding than Helena's hair, somehow elegant even in its disordered state, spilling over sheets and shoulders, and Helena's thrusts upwards to meet Myka's own, and Helena's shallow breathing and moans and the deep brown of her eyes that draws Myka deeper, spins her faster….
You tremble, and I fall.
…Until everything stops but their quick heartbeats and the wonderful, precious breathing.
And when hearts slow down to normal speed –
Peace.
Two candles are still burning, and Myka rests her head on Helena's chest. She may not understand everything about their relationship just yet, but perhaps that's why it feels so right.
Anything can happen.
FIN.