I'm so sorry, but there is no plot in this chapter. If you are looking for plot, you might want to wait for the next chapter. For people who are enjoying reading about women making out: You have come to the right place, friend.
Thanks to Aimofdestiny for the beta of it. It's weird to have your straight best friend beta'ing your femslash.
Myka could feel the wood of the hotel door pressing against her back. She held a hand pressed over her mouth, with a thousand thoughts racing through her mind. The American couldn't begin to order them. She had said terrible things to Helena under the influence of this artifact; this realisation had hit her immediately, as soon as the pen was neutralised.
And she had said something she had always wanted to say - to scream from the top of her lungs so the other woman would finally hear it, but Myka had always refused to express it.
Myka could tell by the way HG tentatively leaned against the desk that the Victorian was unsure what to do. Helena's eyes had darted towards the door, apparently surprised to find the American blocking it. And now it seemed like the writer was preparing herself for the younger agent to take back what she had said, or at least that part of it.
But that wasn't what Myka wanted, was it?
The curly-haired woman felt curiously liberated. She had finally admitted it and somehow, even though it hadn't quite been her own choice to say these words, she felt like all her pent-up tension had fallen away. By the same token, HG seemed to have built up more of this tension. She was struggling, Myka could see that. Helena was ready to run away again, but this time, Myka wouldn't let her go. Never again.
Slowly, the younger agent's gaze wandered up Helena's body. She loved this woman so much, and by now, she was sure it was better for HG to not only know it but also to have heard it from Myka herself. Both women had known that they loved each other before this, but neither of them had been able to say it.
Myka was glad she had said it, didn't regret it in the slightest. What she did regret were all those other words she had spat at Helena in her artifact-induced rage. The American had fought so hard to hold them back, but failed spectacularly. And now the woman she loved stood there still, staring at her but avoiding her eyes, anticipating Myka talking herself out of this situation.
The younger woman looked into the Victorian's face for a few seconds, waiting. She waited because she needed to meet Helena's eyes. She needed to see them. They had been avoiding to look into each other's eyes for too long. There was this glisten in them, the dark brown of her irises - Myka had found what she had been looking for and before the younger woman became fully aware of it, she was up on her feet, making her way through the room towards Helena.
Quickly, she reached out a hand, finding that Helena had stepped towards her as well. Their bodies met with force. Myka was the stronger one, pushing HG back against the desk, while wrapping her hands desperately around the older woman's shoulders. They crashed into the rickety piece of furniture, making their belongings on it rattle. The American felt Helena's shaky hands grasp onto the fabric of her shirt somewhere below her ribs. Her forehead rested against Myka's cheek and it felt so, so wonderful. But Helena was struggling. She was still struggling. And Myka didn't want Helena to struggle anymore.
So she allowed her hands to wander further up and cup the Victorian's cheeks to pull her face upwards. Their eyes met again, Helena's still filled with tears, almost making an attempt to dart away. But Myka smiled, she kept smiling as she pulled the other woman closer to kiss her.
To just kiss her.
At first, it was just a careful brush of skin against skin, as though Myka was asking a question, which Helena soon answered by pulling her closer and returning her kiss. Their lips parted, allowing their tongues to slip over them and join together. Myka couldn't help but try to claim HG completely with her mouth and hands. She carefully brushed her thumb over the soft skin of the other woman's cheek. She could feel how the grip of Helena's hands on the fabric of her shirt only tightened, could feel her pulling at it slightly, like she was trying to move the younger woman closer to her, even though it wasn't possible anymore. Even though they were so close that the younger woman could feel the writer's heart thumping against her own chest, almost as though it was inside it, next to her own heart. But even though Helena's grasp onto her shirt strengthened, Myka could feel her relax in her arms.
It was a kiss of release, of something that finally happened. And for Myka, it still tasted like a sweet memory. The sweet memory of an undone day in Boone, when she had kissed Helena for the first time. But this day had never happened, even though she could remember it. So kissing HG was still new to her. And this time it was real and not merely a memory in her head, however precious.
Helena's lips were so familiar and soft against Myka's, and full of need. The two women had waited so long for this. There were no thoughts of uncertain futures anymore, nor of the fear of ruining one. There was only Helena, pressed tightly against her.
So many questions still lay unanswered between them, but Myka did not care. She cared only about the soft touch of HG's tongue against her own. She cared only about the contact between their mouths, the access they granted to each other. Myka cared about her own hands roaming over the Victorian's neck, her fingertips brushing against the older woman's nape. The warmth of Helena's body pressed against her own, that was what the American cared about.
And she cared about the way the writer's hands now let go of her shirt to stroke Myka's hips and back, gently fondling her through the fabric of her clothes.
Myka cried while kissing Helena and she didn't try to hide it. She was relieved, so what did it matter? The tears just ran down her cheeks. It was this incredible feeling of all her insecurities lifting from her. For a fraction of a second Myka could feel them screaming inside herself: she had just had kissed HG out of nowhere and surely the American needed time to process this. But she shoved those anxieties aside. She knew that Helena wouldn't let her go anymore. She just knew. Right now, she could feel how the Victorian gently brushed the pad of her thumb over her cheek to wipe away the tears. Somehow, HG had noticed them without even opening her eyes and looking at Myka.
Hesitantly, Helena removed her lips from the younger woman's, only to whisper "I love you." The American smiled at the thought that HG still felt the need to clarify this. Because she felt that need as well. "Helena, I love you." Myka replied carefully, knowing that there wasn't anything to be afraid of for either of them. Helena was hers, no matter what had happened or would happen in the future. And Myka belonged to Helena. It was this simple.
"Together." The American breathed the word onto the Victorian's lips. "We are in this together. And that's all." HG's eyes snapped open, finding Myka's smiling but reddened ones. There was this brief moment during which the younger woman could see that the writer was fighting her insecurities again, was struggling with something about the curly haired woman's words. But Myka leaned forward again quickly to cover Helena's lips with her own. To kiss those insecurities away.
HG just returned the kiss and the American felt that this wasn't about words anymore. They had spoken too many words to each other without ever saying anything. And it had never been enough. Myka felt that mere words from Helena just weren't enough anymore. Not now. Words about an uncertain future could wait. They had time. And right here and now it was about them and their lips and bodies. The communication they had always forbidden themselves to have with one another. Now it was no longer forbidden.
This kiss was more passionate than the first one. The younger agent's hands wandered across HG's shoulders, down to her waist. Myka caressed the Victorian's hips and thighs through the fabric of her jeans. She felt Helena lifting herself onto the desk, wrapping her legs around the American. Then, her hands brushed over her back. HG returned Myka's kiss and caresses equally; she claimed Myka not only with her mouth but with her limbs, which gently embraced the other woman.
The touch of the older woman's hands on her back, through the fabric at first and eventually skin on skin caused Myka to stifle a moan. The American could feel the vibration of Helena's chuckle on her lips. "Don't." HG mumbled between two kisses. "Please let me hear that. Let me hear everything."
Again, warm fingertips stroked the small of Myka's back. The American moaned into Helena's mouth, her own fingernails digging slightly into the fabric sheathing HG's thighs. Then, Myka reached up to unbutton the Victorian's blouse with trembling fingers.
This was the point at which Helena broke the kiss to look up into the American's eyes. Myka didn't know what the writer was looking for in their depths, but suddenly Helena jumped down from the desk to push the younger woman gently and slowly across the room. While making weak steps backwards, Myka could feel the Victorian's body pressing against her own, guiding her into the direction of the bed. Helena's hands reached for her own chest, supporting Myka's ongoing attempt to open her blouse. When the backs of the younger woman's legs made contact with the edge of the bed, the writer easily slipped out of her top and then looked back up into Myka's eyes. Carefully, the younger agent reached out a hand to caress the other woman's chest, beginning with her collarbones, then slowly following the line of HG's necklace downwards. It led her lower to the soft flesh of the swell of her breasts reaching over the edge of her bra.
HG watched Myka for a brief moment, before inching closer and brushing the younger woman's wild curls away from her neck. After running her fingertips over the younger woman's lips slowly, Helena trailed them down Myka's chin, along her neck until they rested at the nape. She let her hand linger there for a few seconds, then she carefully rubbed the spot, while meeting the American's gaze again. HG smiled as Myka's eyes widened in comprehension of the gesture, before she leaned forward to cover the skin she had traced with her fingers with open-mouthed kisses. She caused Myka to arch her long neck further, her eyes sliding shut all by themselves. This felt incredible; warm and soft and so delightfully intimate. Helena's breath on her skin, the gentle touch of her lips, Myka wanted her to never stop again.
After gently divesting the younger woman of her shirt, HG's eyes darted to the scar on the younger woman's right shoulder for a brief second. Myka could see this. She didn't want to think about it now. Her mouth opened - but then, the Victorian looked into her eyes again and gently pressed her hands against Myka's shoulders - avoiding to touch the scar - to guide her down to the bed.
Myka just let herself drop onto it, then propped herself up on her elbows to watch Helena stand there and give her a careful look. There were no tears in their eyes anymore, only love and desire. The younger woman's eyes roamed across Helena's body again, this time accompanied by the heat that coursed through her own. Myka could see that the writer was nervous, maybe as nervous as her. The American still struggled with processing what was happening right here and now, but she wanted to show HG that there was no reason to be nervous for her, even though she was plenty nervous herself. Quickly, Myka sat up, her feet meeting the floor. She reached out her hand to pull the Victorian closer, covering her naked stomach with passionate kisses, carefully tugging flesh between her teeth. Helena's hands entangled themselves in the younger woman's hair, scraping across her scalp when Myka's fingertips found the writer's waistband.
Looking up at HG's face while her cheek rested against the older woman's stomach, the American searched her eyes again. She watched Helena's facial expression become more confident and also aroused as Myka carefully popped the button of her trousers. Without breaking eye contact, she tugged down the zipper. Helena licked her lips in reaction, reaching down to help the younger woman remove this piece of clothing, as well her shoes and socks. Quickly, they tossed them aside, before HG leaned over to tenderly kiss Myka again, reaching around her back to unclasp the curly haired woman's bra. It joined their shirts and Helena's trousers on the floor, while the writer again pushed her lover down on the bed, joining her there on all her four. She covered Myka's mouth with her own once more.
The American could feel Helena's leg parting both of hers to press gently against the seat of her womanhood. Myka groaned loudly, and HG broke their kiss for a moment to look at her. Myka opened her eyes, finding the other woman interested in the noise. She reached her hand up to pull her closer again and linked their mouths for another kiss. Slowly, gently, lovingly, Helena's hand stroke repeatedly over the curly haired woman's breasts. When she cupped one of them, Myka's back arched and her fingers clutched tightly onto the bed sheet. She moaned loudly, to let Helena know she liked this. But she wanted to touch her lover, too. She needed to. So she reached her hand upwards, brushing carefully across Helena's cleavage until she found the edge of the older woman's bra again. Gently, she shoved the fabric upwards, her hand enjoying the sensation of palming the soft flesh of HG's breasts.
Helena smiled into the kiss. She quickly unclasped her own bra and slipped out of it, apparently to give Myka better access. The younger woman looked at Helena's body on top of her own: Their heaving chests, skin against skin, freckles touching each other. The writer's hands roamed over her sides and in reaction, Myka linked their lips for another time, her tongue needily seeking Helena's.
Almost painfully slowly, the older woman's mouth explored downwards, leaving soft, warm kisses on her breasts, chest, stomach. She carefully peeled Myka out of her jeans and underpants, getting rid of them along with her socks.
And then the younger woman felt Helena's hot breath and skilled tongue between her legs. She gasped, lifting her hips upwards, desperate for this feeling, her hands clinging needily onto HG's hair.
Myka's need to have the other woman right there battled with her other need to pull her up and see her, to feel her pressed completely against her own body. This was good, but it was not enough, even though the American's pleasure quickly built up, even though she was about to melt into this touch. So she bit down on her own lip, shaking her head while guiding Helena upwards again. The Victorian looked questioningly at her, but Myka covered her lips with her own quickly, tasting herself. There was another flush of heat, now almost everywhere in her body, while Myka tugged helplessly on the other woman's waistband. Smirking knowingly, the writer positioned herself right next to the other woman, aiding her attempts to pull off her underpants. They looked at eachother again, while the American's hands briefly brushed across the inside of Helena's thighs, hesitantly and shaking. Myka knew she was new at this, had never done it before, but she wanted...
The Victorian just smiled and then covered the younger woman's hand with her own, gently guiding her where she wanted her hand to be. "It's not very different from-" She began, but then was interrupted by her own moan in reaction to Myka's first tender thrust, Helena's eyes widening on the sudden but gentle contact. The American just watched her for this moment, when Helena rocked her hips into her hand, while the Victorian's eyes closed and she slightly arched her neck. Moaning quietly for a second time, HG pulled Myka closer and clung to her. The younger woman felt her own hand pressing into the older woman's body with every thrust, Helena's thigh settling over Myka's. When their lips met again, HG breathed heavily into her mouth.
Eventually, the writer's hand found its way between the younger woman's legs. Myka groaned loudly in reaction to HG's tender strokes, but she didn't stop using her own hand to pleasure the other woman.
This was their dialogue of moans and kisses, of bodies rocking into each other, moving closer into each other's direction. Helena's and Myka's hands stroked and thrust, showing each other where and how they liked it best. Tongues and lips brushed over soft skin, causing existing inner walls to crumble away. Their names crossed each other's lips, on their own volition, unstoppable in their desire and pleasure. And finally, Myka's teeth bit down on Helena's shoulder. The younger woman froze completely, pressing her release into the Victorian's skin, a muffled scream escaping her throat.
In reaction to the delicious sound and slight pain the American had caused, Helena whispered Myka's name repeatedly. Her hips bucked into Myka's without purpose. She lost her rhythm - Myka could feel her shudder. HG's fingernails dug deeply into the younger woman's back like she was searching for something to hold onto to keep herself from bursting. But then, she did, groaning her own orgasm loudly into the echo of Myka's.