Thank you so much for your encouragement this week guys; my self-esteem appreciates it! Particular thanks to Aeternus Eternus for your lengthy PMs. Greedy Reader and guest reviewers too. You're all awesome! Christina has been a little chattier this last few days and I'm sure that's as a direct result of your advice and praise. :-)
I also had an interesting suggestion from a guest about post traumatic stress (I assume that's what you meant by PTS, Guest1?). I have some ideas about this for future chapters, so thank you.
A short warning for this chapter – might get a little uncomfortable here from time to time, but stick with it; I promise I won't do anything truly horrible to these wonderful characters! Also, this is where the M rating really comes into play.
Chapter Eight
Snapping on her purple gloves and readjusting protective glasses Myka approached the badly behaving artefact that had triggered the Warehouse sensors. Pete cowered behind her, claiming that this particular artefact had tried to whammy him before and would likely try again now it had a taste of the Pete Machine.
So far, it had been a fairly normal day at the Warehouse. Artie was grouchy and complained loudly about Claudia's numerous improvements to his gadgets, while the junior agent rolled her eyes at him and accused him of being a fossil. Myka had listened to their bickering with an amused smile hidden behind a book until several disturbances lit up the red head's screen.
One of their recent missions had seen them procuring an artefact from the Middle East. The figure of Inana having pinged on their radar after an entire village had been caught in a haze of lustful energy, which incited riots between disgruntled spouses once the fun was over. True to form, Pete had come close to causing an international incident when his flirtatious habits had stirred already simmering tempers, though he insisted that the artefact was the culprit of his sudden inability to keep his eyes above shoulder level.
"Hey Mykes?" He eyed the statuette in their line of sight, distracted as he always was by the prominent breasts and thighs.
"Yeah Pete?" She half listened to her partner, knowing that whatever he was thinking about wasn't necessarily linked to their task.
His hands rested on her shoulders, while most of him was hidden behind her slimmer figure. He had seriously weird vibes about this Buddha-ette as he liked to call it. "I always wondered what lesbians think about when faced with something like this," he gestured over her shoulder.
Myka frowned and paused to look sideways at the overgrown boy behind her. "What!?"
"Well, you know, you have experience now. Do you stop to appreciate the female form now you're all up with the lady love? Does it remind you of HG? "
Scowling, Myka began to count slowly to ten in her head, but one stray thought of Pete trying to imagine Helena naked and she gave up, hitting him in a flurry of jabs.
"Ow, ow!" Pete's arms rose to deflect her attack, remaining there until she was done. "What? I just thought you might share your insight."
"What in God's name gave you the impression that I'd talk to you about such a thing!?" She demanded, still scowling.
He gave her his trademark puppy dog look. "Hey, I don't have any guy friends to talk about it with. Steve's a no go and asking Artie would be too weird."
Myka sighed, feeling sympathy for his situation. "I may have a girlfriend but I'm still not you, Pete."
Pete shrugged, deflating slightly. "Yeah, I guess... Claudia really needs to get a boyfriend," he muttered as his partner turned back to their task. "So what do you think? Is it her time of the month or what?"
Rolling her eyes and gritting her teeth, the curly-haired agent let his comment slip past her. Usually, she had a lot of patience for her brother-like colleague, but she was on edge and really needed him to just shut his mouth.
The little figurine glowed with an ethereal light and hummed at a resonance that seemed to reach inside Myka, touching her very soul. It had appeared innocuous enough when they brought it into the Warehouse a few weeks back, but Artie and Claudia had reported an alarming increase in disturbances in the vicinity since their snag, bag and tag.
"I doubt it, Pete." They were less than three feet away now with no sign of anything different happening. Artie had ordered them to neutralise the artefact and pack it in a special crate so they could transport it and investigate its behaviour in a safer environment. "Right, have you got the goo-hose?" She heard him snigger to himself and shot him a withering stare. "Really?"
He didn't look the slightest bit abashed and said, "Lila would have cracked a smile."
"Then she really is made for you." Myka raised an eyebrow and waited until he indicated that he was indeed ready with the hose. Nodding, she began to turn back, missing the confusion on her partner's face as Pete tugged on the nozzle without realising that the extension had become wrapped around his foot.
With a sharp yank, followed by a yelp of surprise, agent Lattimer went toppling over, his body twisting and arms flailing in an attempt to right himself. Myka heard the cry but was barely able to respond before meaty hands were pulling her down, knocking her glasses from her nose. She felt her head hit the ground hard and then Pete's weight was forcing all the air from her lungs. She clawed at him for a brief moment until he noticed her struggle and shifted so that he was hovering over and no longer crushing his best friend.
"Oops, sorry Mykes." He grinned down at her sheepishly and began to get up, but before he could go far, their attention shifted to the sound of grinding stone.
Responding automatically, both agents turned to the source of the disturbance. Too late, Myka realised their mistake; Pete's glasses had disappeared during the fall too and a sudden flash of kaleidoscopic colour bounced off their retinas, catching them both by surprise.
The musical vibrations that had filled Myka's chest before intensified tenfold and a not unpleasant warmth filled her. Her vision swam with luminescent colours; disorienting the agent and making her forget where she was for a moment. Hard lips pressed down against her own and she felt her body react, hips pushing upward of their own volition as her breathing changed to indicate her sudden arousal.
Myka's senses returned to her the moment her companion's bulky frame pushed back and over-large hands began touching her in places that were reserved for another. Eyes widening in alarm, agent Bering reacted without though, her knee rising sharply between her friend's legs and a forearm jabbing against his exposed throat, both actions succeeding in forcing him off her.
She scrambled toward where her glasses had been thrown during Pete's clumsy fall and shoved them on her face before grabbing the end of the goo-hose and turning it on their intended artefact. A shower of sparks tumbled down around them like fireworks, illuminating their immediate surroundings. Once the lightshow was over, Myka lowered the hose, narrowly resisting the temptation to spray the neutralising liquid inside her mouth for good measure.
She glanced at Pete, still clutching his groin, and shuddered. "Some days I really hate this place."
Laughter drifted on a gentle breeze from the back garden of the new Wells/Bering abode, announcing to any passer-by that at least two of the three residents were home. Neighbours may have frowned somewhat at the sudden appearance of the couple and their daughter; whispers of unnatural pairings and unsuitable environments for children were hidden behind hands and holier than thou attitudes, but no one could really deny that this unconventional family was deliriously happy.
The taller of the couple had a smile for everyone, while her British counterpart disarmed anyone who challenged them with a few words and a knowing smirk, and the good natured, well mannered eight year old gave proof to anyone looking for it, that she was well nurtured and quite content with her lot.
Today, Helena and Christina were studying biology, specifically, the life-cycle and structure of flowering plants. Inside, they had left books and scribblings of ideas out on the table, but currently they were investigating the garden for evidence of this year's passing bloom. The previous occupants had been keen gardeners so there was plenty to discover and the hem of the eight year old's skirt was soon covered in soil.
Helena chuckled to herself as she noticed the dirt caked on her daughter's clothes. She had attempted to convince Christina that it would be more practical for her to wear trousers to work outdoors, but the young girl was adamant that she preferred a dress or skirt. She didn't understand it herself; at Christina's age she had detested the restrictions of 'female' clothing and had been known to sneak into her brother's trousers when she thought no one was around. But as long as her daughter had a choice and wouldn't be ridiculed for that choice, HG was content. She wasn't about to be the one who pushed her child into a mould.
Or she hoped not at least.
She tried as much as possible to share her interests with the young girl without insisting that she like them. It warmed her heart when they could sit down together and enjoy the same activity. Reading was one of those things that the three of them liked to do together, though recently, Christina had taken an interest in films and theatre, and they often found her acting out scenes from her favourite movies. Myka had informed her that it was common for modern children to aspire to be on TV, but it saddened the Victorian to think of her little girl selling herself short.
"Look, Mummy," Christina shouted from the far side of a juniper bush. "They look like a cross between daisies and sunflowers."
"Yes they do don't they. They're called..." She flicked through a book of native plants, stopping when the young girl poked her finger at the coinciding photo. "Ah. Rudbeckia-Hirta or Black-eyed Susans. There should be plenty of seeds lying around, love. See if you can find and gather a few." HG moved over to a tall shrub with a few more flower heads intact. "And over here I believe we have... A Great Blue Lobelia with an unfortunate Latin name," she mumbled to herself. "Lobelia Siphilitica."
Christina knelt down in the grass, using her skirt to hold the seeds and dead flowers she gathered while her mother identified a few of their other garden residents.
Midmorning, Helena called for a break in their explorations and proposed having tea in the conservatory. The late autumn weather had turned their noses and cheeks pink and HG was cautious of not exposing her daughter to a prolonged chill.
Theodore, Angelina and Roquefort joined in with their own toy-sized cups and plastic food. One of the first gifts Myka bought for Christina after moving into their new home was the replica Victorian dolls' tea set.
Christina poured milk into their tea and pretended to serve her toys. HG thanked her and smiled behind her cup. She watched her daughter playing make believe, savouring the delightful way the girl asked her dolls questions and repeated their answers for her benefit. One day, in a not too distant future, Christina would grow out of these childish imaginings and their lives would never be the same.
"We don't have any coffee today, Rocky," the eight year old addressed her racoon, which seemed to have absorbed elements of Myka's personality, including her fondness for the bitter drink. "How about some lovely tea instead?" She proceeded to 'pour out' the beverage and offered him a biscuit. "Would you like one, Mummy?"
HG reached for a custard-cream but refrained from dipping it in her tea. "Thank you, darling." She joined in the 'conversation' with the toys, chuckling to herself sporadically.
Christina had eaten what she wanted and almost finished her tea by the time HG thought they should be getting back to work, but the girl was so absorbed in her game that the older woman couldn't bear to interrupt."Angelina, you must practise your curtsey, the queen is coming to visit and she'll be here any minute!" The girl scolded her doll. "Theodore, strike up the band, I think I hear her." Christina had Myka's teddy hiding under the table, but had to stop as she searched for something.
"What have you lost, love?" Helena asked curiously.
The girl stuck her head under the table but came up still frowning. "I had a black cloth for Victoria's dress. I can't see it."
HG's eyebrow rose. "Queen Victoria?"
"Of course, Mummy. The Empress can only wear black." She sighed in defeat. "I know I had it before lunch," she mumbled to herself.
The inventor thought about introducing the topic of Victoria's death and the successive line of royals, but decided to save it for another day. Some days it seemed like Christina didn't quite distinguish between relocating to another country and relocating to another time. It was as if, in moving to America, England was forever stuck in the 1800's in the girl's mind. HG feared that bringing up the subject would spark questions about their long lost loved ones.
Once the dishes were washed and put away, the pair settled back at the dining room table with their spoils from the garden and Helena talked Christina through the finer points of plant structure and reproduction.
Sometime around two o'clock, she left the girl to her sketches and entered the kitchen to try her hand at baking something for dinner. As a girl herself, her mother had insisted that she spend time with their cook to pick up a few domestic skills. Though her parents had had high hopes for her marrying well, Mrs. Wells had been a practical woman and was adamant that it wouldn't do the young HG any harm to acquire a few skills to impress potential suitors. Needless to say, Helena had not been amused by the notion and her tutorials had stuck in her mind as periods of torture.
Now however, she was excited by the idea of providing a home-cooked meal for her family. Creating things from scratch had always interested her, but it meant so much more when that creation was intended to bring joy to the people she loved.
Returning from the Warehouse early, Myka lifted a trembling hand to the front door of her home and, after several attempts, managed to fit her key into the lock. She entered the storm porch and removed her shoes and coat, placing both items next to Helena and Christina's. Through her troubled thoughts, she still managed to smile fondly at this simple reminder of her family.
Inside the house, the hallway stretched the length from front to back, a staircase climbing up toward the first floor and doors lining the walls, leading to various rooms. Immediately to her left and right were the study and living room, respectively, and beyond those, the kitchen and dining room. The parquet floor and ornate doors had captured her and Helena's attention the moment they'd followed the estate agent inside. Looking out over the balcony that led from the master bedroom, HG had taken her hand and looked deep into her eyes, communicating her desire without words. That look had been everything Myka needed to convince her that this was the house for them.
With a reasonable cash injection from Helena's sizable savings, the surveys and contracts were completed and signed off within a week. The property had been vacant, so a week before the end of October, after a fair amount of furniture shopping in town and online, they had soon been ready to move in.
Myka paused at the bottom of the stairs, holding onto the balustrade while taking deep breaths to calm her racing heart. She debated the wisdom in searching Helena out verses a cold shower.
She and Pete had managed to crate up the small stone statuette and carried it to where Artie was waiting, in a tranquil room not far from the Pete-cave. She had made her partner swear not to breathe a word of what had transpired between them before mumbling some feasible excuse and then escaping to her car. The entire drive home, she'd tried to calm the pounding flow of blood to certain sensitive parts of her body, occupying her thoughts with the mundane and avoiding anything that would incite images of Helena. It would not have been the best end to the day to find herself nose down in a ditch.
Her foot had just touched the bottom step when a voice called out from the kitchen, beaconing her. She chuckled to herself and blew out an air of frustration, taking a moment to gather her strength before heading for the kitchen.
The sight that greeted her there had surely been sent to test her. Helena was a vision, with shirt sleeves rolled up to her elbows and flour smudged everywhere but on her apron. Jeans clung to muscle and flesh like a second skin and Myka bit her lip to smother a moan at the thought of running her hands over those toned thighs.
Helena flicked her head in an awkward manner and puffed out a breath of air to try and brush a lock of hair out of her eyes. Myka chucked in the doorway, gaining her lover's attention.
HG's head turned to the open archway and she smiled warmly. "Hello, Love. I thought I heard the door. Are you done for the day?"
"Mmhmm, fortunately." Myka prowled the length of the kitchen, skirting the centre island, and wrapped her arms around HG's waist, looking closely over her shoulder at the contents of her bowl. She felt her control slipping as her girlfriend's warm scent drifted up from an open collar. "I wouldn't have wanted to miss this; you look good enough to eat." She demonstrated the validity of her statement by wrapping her lips around a convenient earlobe.
HG gasped and felt her knees buckle. "Myka!" She squeaked in surprise at the unexpected force in her girlfriend's attentions. Her eyes closed involuntarily and for a moment, she let her body fall into the other agent's arms, but when lips began to explore her neck and fingers slipped under her shirt to play along the waist of her jeans, she felt her senses return to her. "Myka," she repeated with more authority. She turned in the embrace and caught wandering hands. "Darling, you know your attentions are never unwelcome, but Christina is just across the hall. Perhaps this can wait until later?"
Myka's thoughts battled through a haze of lust, her gaze drifting from HG's concerned eyes to the hollows and swells that hid beneath the loose fabric of the inventor's shirt. With effort, she screwed her eyes shut and pulled her hands back, wrapping her arms around herself. She felt Helena reach out to try to comfort her and pulled away sharply, doubting her ability to keep her passions in check. "Helena, please. I'm sorry... I can't control..." She watched her lover's mouth form words, but heard none of it. Her fingers tingled, mouth watered and nerve ending throbbed with need. Without another word, Myka ran from the kitchen and jogged as lightly as she could up the stairs to their room.
HG stood in her girlfriend's wake, frowning. The agent's behaviour screamed of Warehouse mojo, as Pete would call it. Myka was clearly aroused and lacking her usual control. She wanted to follow Myka upstairs but after the scene in the kitchen, she wasn't sure that she would be free to leave the bedroom any time soon and she still had to consider their daughter. Uninhibited, her girlfriend could be very loud in bed, and neither of them wanted Christina to be a witness to that level of passion between them.
Making a quick decision, Helena picked up the cordless phone and hit the speed-dial for the B&B. "Leena, hello... Yes, it's Helena... Well, I would like to ask a favour of you if you're amenable... I think Myka may be experiencing some side-effects from whatever she's been in contact with today... I am aware that it may be necessary to call Artie, but it is rather an intimate side-effect and we would prefer to work through the symptoms privately, at least until we've no other option... Thank you darling, I appreciate your discretion... Yes, I was going to ask if you wouldn't mind keeping an eye on Christina for a couple of hours..." Her patient expression darkened as she thought about Leena's last comment, though she soon realised that the young woman had a valid point. "It would be more logical to take her back to the B&B for a time, you're right. It's not like she hasn't spent time there before," she added more to reassure herself. "Thank you again, you are a dear. We'll see you in a few minutes. Goodbye."
Swiftly, she untied her apron and set it on the counter. She placed a tea-towel over the dough she'd been kneading and wiped the majority of flour from her clothes. She eyed the stairs worriedly but made for the dining room where Christina had situated herself at the table with her sketches and her stuffed companions.
"Hello, love." She leant down to kiss the top of her daughter's head as she always did when the opportunity presented itself. She heard the shower start running upstairs and glanced briefly at the ceiling.
"Did Mama come home? I heard the door." The eight year old puzzled aloud.
"Yes, she's home," she hesitated, knowing that she needed to make sure that her daughter remained downstairs while Myka was in her current state, yet she didn't want to alarm the girl unnecessarily. "I think Myka may be feeling unwell. Darling, do you mind going to the bed and breakfast with Leena for a couple of hours while I take care of Mama? I have a feeling that whatever's wrong has something to do with the Warehouse."
Christina frowned but nodded her understanding. Her mothers had spoken to her many times over the past few weeks, since their fateful day at the fair, going through the ups and downs of their job and how there would be times when they would need to ask for her obedience perhaps without being able to explain why. "Ok. I have lots to keep me busy. I can take it with me."
Helena hated the necessity, but knew that there weren't any better options. "Thank you love. Right then, let's pack a few of these things away so you and Leena can carry them."
There was barely half a kilometre between their new home and their fellow agents' accommodation, so it was no surprise to the inventor that it only took ten minutes before Leena was standing on their doorstep, waiting to collect Christina. HG reassured the owner of the B&B that she wouldn't leave it too long before seeking help if her 'home remedy' didn't appear to be working. She hugged her daughter tightly, promising to see her for dinner and reminding her to be helpful and courteous while she was away, while reassuring her that there was no need to worry.
The second the door closed behind her, Helena sprinted up the stairs and entered the bedroom she shared with her girlfriend. The door to the en-suite was ajar so, cautiously, she pushed inside and looked around for Myka. She soon found her partner, sitting in the bottom of the shower, still fully clothed. She noticed the slight shiver to the woman's limbs and reached out to find icy water raining down from the showerhead. Quickly turning it off, Helena crouched down next to the drenched figure and attempted to coax her out.
Myka leant into Helena's touch and a pained whimper escaped her throat. She barely had any sense of where she was any more; the desire to relieve the ache that suffused her body had her teetering on the edge of madness. The chill of her cold shower had kept it at bay, but now she could feel the fire beginning to burn again and through all that, the only thought she could process was, don't hurt Helena.
"Myka," HG began to wrap her arms around her girlfriend in an effort to get her to stand. "We need to get you out of these wet clothes. Can you tell me what happened, darling? Did something at the Warehouse do this to you?"
The brunette's desire darkened eyes pinned Helena to the spot. The Victorian's touch had instantly sent the last tendrils of her control packing and her senses drank her lover in. Nostrils flared when Helena's raw scent wafted towards her on a bed of Channel and HG's small gasp had her intimate parts throbbing harder than ever. "I need you..." Her voice growled through a hazy fog of lust. "I'm sorry," she lamented in a pained tone before she felt her body take over.
Helena offered no resistance as her girlfriend pushed her to the bathroom floor. Myka straddled her waist, hips already in motion as they searched for friction. Even knowing that her partner's sudden passion probably stemmed from exposure to an artefact, HG was easily aroused by the vision in front of her.
Myka was wild; her drenched hair clinging to her equally wet clothes, both dripping cool droplets that should have boiled through the heat that rose between them. Hands were demanding, making quick work of Helena's shirt, exposing her bra with a tearing of fabric.
The inventor felt her bra being pushed aside and a pair of lips closing around a straining nipple, encasing it in wet heat. She tangled her fingers in damp hair, her head pushing back against cool tile, mouth open in a silent plea as her thighs twitched at the deliciously maddening sensation. She felt Myka's body shift, legs repositioned to nudge her own apart and slim hips settled low over her centre. A groan escaped her open mouth, mingling with her quickening breaths. She felt lips tightening around her sensitive areola and pictured the self-satisfied grin that shaped the American's mouth. A well timed stroke of rough tongue had her bucking up towards any sort of contact and was rewarded with the beginning of a slow rocking between their joined bodies.
Fevered lips stole the breath from her lungs while her nipples hardened impossibly in the sudden cool air that surrounded them. Helena wrapped all four limbs around her lover, holding on for dear life while being swept away with Myka's unbreakable passion, every fall of their hips sending a jolt of desire through her. She felt fingers tightening in her hair and forced her eyes to open a fraction, the sight of her partner's lidded pleasure urging her closer to completion.
She was lost to a fog of desire when she became aware of a rough, impatient hand tugging at the buttons of her jeans and heard the pop, pop of metal being loosened from their holds. A guttural moan tore from her throat as deft fingers parted delicate folds and slipped smoothly inside.
The sound of her inelegant grunts echoed off the bathroom tiles, inciting the brunette to drive into her harder and faster. Myka's name fell from her mouth between muttered expletives and at the crest of her release, loving lips closed once more around her own and pulled the very essence from her.
She tumbled over the waves of her orgasm, gasping for breath between her lover's frenzied 'feeding'. Finally, exhausted and spent, HG collapsed. Myka's body followed, muscles weak in the aftermath of her possession.
;-)