queen of analogue (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tellitslant) wrote2012-08-26 12:11 pm
tellitslant) wrote2012-08-26 12:11 pm
Entry tags:
FIC: Symptoms of Affection (Warehouse 13; H.G./Myka, Explicit)
Title: Symptoms of Affection
Author:tellitslant
Fandom: Warehouse 13
Characters/pairing: H.G. Wells/Myka Bering
Rating: Explicit
Word count: 1700
Disclaimer: Characters are property of SyFy etc. This is a transformative work; no infringement is intended.
Notes: Written for the![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
femslash_kink meme 2012 prompt "Genderplay (Myka dressed as a man), strapon, doggy-style." Thanks to sophia_gratia for beta.
Warnings: None. Spoilers through early season four; set vaguely in a later-season-four future.
Summary:
*
Helena sighs and settles into the overstuffed armchair. She pauses, hand hovering over the pile of books on the side table, and waits.
Nothing.
Not a sound; the B&B is silent. Myka is in her room – shopping online for her niece- or nephew-to-be, Helena thinks – but everyone else, even Leena, is out. The silence is exquisite.
It's the first day since her return that has left her with time to reorient herself, to figure out if the place she left in the Warehouse was ever real or just another part of her schemes. After so long away she isn't quite certain, but now that she has some leisure, Helena intends to make the most of it. She thumbs the covers of the books, deliberating, prolonging the uncertainty of choice.
"Helena."
Helena starts. She neither saw nor heard Myka come in.
Myka strolls across the room. She's barefoot under charcoal-grey trousers – that explains how she moved so quietly. But something else is different, Helena thinks. She moves with a looseness that is absent from her usual crisp stride. Her blouse is untucked, but her hair is pulled back in a tight bun. It sharpens the angles of her face as she gazes down at Helena.
"Myka," Helena replies, looking up calmly.
"Agent Bering," Myka corrects.
Helena's breath catches. "Agent Bering," she acknowledges. So this is the game. Anticipation curls in her stomach; she sits forward, books forgotten, and her eyes drop to the crotch of Myka's trousers. A familiar shape strains against the zipper. Helena swallows, thinking of the first time Myka let Helena see her with it, the look on Myka's face that said I trust you and I want you in equal measures. Helena needs to feel that way again, needs it so badly she's almost been afraid to hope for it. But Myka understands.
"You've been back for days, but you've hardly said a word to me outside of work." Myka leans against the table and strokes Helena's hair.
Helena closes her eyes and luxuriates in the touch. After being bronzed, after the Janus coin, she'd wondered if she would ever truly feel again. Myka's hand tightens in her hair, just slightly, and she licks her lips. "I – didn't want to assume," she says. She's spent so long proving herself that sometimes she expects to be asked to believe three impossible things before she can have her breakfast.
"So instead of assuming I wanted to talk to you, you assumed I didn't? Helena." Her touch gentles. This time, when Helena looks up, it's Myka looking down, not Agent Bering, regardless of the hair.
"I am sorry, darling," Helena says, starting to smile. She reaches out and twines her fingers in Myka's belt loops. Tugging until the bulge in Myka's trousers is at eye level, she glances up through her lashes. "Is there some way I can make it up to you?"
Myka's fighting a grin, but the look in her eyes still makes Helena's heart beat faster. She's already tugging at the zipper when Myka says, "Take it out."
Helena unbuttons, unzips, and spreads the fly open wide enough that she can pull the phallus through the opening. She takes a moment to admire it as Myka adjusts the straps on her harness. Of all the technological advances to which Myka has introduced her, silicone may be one of her favourites. It is such an improvement on ivory or wood – so much more forgiving to the mouth.
"Well?" Myka demands. She cups her hand around Helena's head, not rough, just exerting a steady pressure. "Suck me," she says, her breath already uneven.
Helena rests one hand on Myka's hip and licks the tip of Myka's cock. Everything about this is familiar. She knows just what to do. Eyes locked with Myka's, she takes the head into her mouth; hollowing her cheeks, she pulls off, leaving it wet with her saliva.
Myka trembles and widens her stance.
Sliding her hand away from Myka's hip, Helena grasps the cock by its shaft. As she takes it into her mouth again, she presses back, grinding its base against Myka's clit.
Myka fists her hand in Helena's hair and moans. "Oh. Oh, my God," she says. "You look so good with my cock in your mouth."
Helena is used to those words now. The first time Myka said them knocked Helena completely out of the moment; she'd used any number of artificial phalluses in the past herself without wanting to call any of them 'hers' like that. The idea of 'Myka's cock' is strangely appealing, though, and has been ever since Helena realized just how intense her enjoyment is. Myka doesn't always wear it, but when she does, Helena loves her responsiveness and how it becomes a part of her.
Helena pulls back with a wet slurp, giving Myka a chance to catch her breath. "Am I forgiven yet?" she asks, biting her lip. The question isn't as flippant as she makes it sound.
"Oh boy." Myka laughs. "I don't know. Do you really mean it?"
Helena doesn't answer, just slides two fingers into her mouth, then draws them out slowly from between her swollen lips. She works her hand into Myka's trousers at the same time as she lowers her head to Myka's cock again.
Myka is wet under Helena's fingers, skin slick and hot, and Helena groans around her cock. The harness strap hits Myka right between her lips, rubbing with each pull of Helena's mouth. Helena wiggles her fingers in the tight space, making Myka whimper. There's not enough room to enter her, but Helena aligns her fingers around the strap, rubbing the length of her cunt and occasionally teasing inside.
"Fuck, Helena, yes," Myka chants. She's trembling all over, her hands in Helena's hair and on her shoulder barely keeping her upright. Her hips rock into Helena's mouth and Helena draws back.
Myka's cunt is soaking Helena's hand and her cock is heavy on Helena's tongue. Helena presses her thighs together and wants, wants to see Myka come like this, to make Myka come like this. She can't speak to say it, though, so she tries to show it instead. She keeps pressure on Myka's clit with the base of the cock, rubbing circles in time with Myka's thrusts.
Finally Myka stills and whimpers. Helena pulls back to watch as she gasps through her orgasm, eyes shut and head thrown back. At the last, she crumples forward onto the chair and wraps herself around Helena. "Holy shit," she says, pressing her lips to Helena's temple.
"I do try," Helena says.
Myka kisses Helena's cheekbone, then the corner of her mouth, just where the stretch leaves her a bit sore. "You have such a pretty mouth," she murmurs against Helena's skin. She traces her finger along the curve of Helena's lower lip, then kisses her, so gently that Helena shivers and moans. She loops her arms around Myka's neck and lets herself relax into the sensation.
They trade lazy kisses for a while, until Myka runs her hand down over Helena's shoulder and cups her breast. Helena gasps sharply, oversensitive. "Take off your pants," Myka says, standing.
Helena hurries to comply. She shoves them off, socks and underwear too, and Myka draws her into another kiss. They're not quite of a height; Helena lifts herself onto her toes, rubbing against Myka, trying and failing to get the friction she needs.
Myka grabs Helena's shoulders and moves her back. "Turn around," she says. "Turn around and bend over," and Helena feels herself get even wetter.
She turns slowly and bends from the waist. Legs apart, hands on the back of the armchair, she looks over her shoulder. The room shifts, cool air whispering up the inside of her thighs and over her cunt, and she twitches.
Myka is watching. She places one hand on the curve of Helena's ass and slides it around to her hip, stepping close enough that Helena can feel the heat of her body. Her other hand dips between Helena's legs without warning. Helena gasps and pushes back, but it's gone, trailing wetness back up over the flesh of her arse.
"Are you ready?" Myka asks, cock nudging at Helena's cunt.
"Please," Helena begs. Myka slides in slowly and Helena surprises herself by moaning. She's not loud like Myka can be, but as Myka draws out and thrusts again, Helena can't help the noises she makes.
Myka wraps one hand around Helena's hip and pulls her back so they are fitted together. Helena's shirt is sticking to her. Myka's trousers rub against Helena's thighs with every shallow thrust. Helena's entire body is flushed with sensation. Her breath pants in and out of her throat.
"Is this good?" Myka asks softly, checking in even though she hardly needs to. Helena gulps and nods, fingers clutching at the fabric of the armchair.
Myka sets a slow pace, her other hand sliding around to rub Helena's clit. It's too much and not enough all at once, pleasure sparking along Helena's nerves and drowning out her uncertainties. She holds out as long as she can, letting the pressure build until it's almost uncomfortable.
"Now," she gasps, grabbing Myka's wrist. She puts Myka's fingers right where she needs them and lets her head drop down, groaning, pushing back as Myka pushes forward and then she's coming, skin tingling, caught between Myka's cock and Myka's fingers and Myka's breath on the back of her neck. She thinks she says something; she's not sure what.
Myka pulls out slowly and Helena whimpers. She staggers, nearly falls, and then Myka is behind her, easing them both down to the floor.
Helena runs her hands through her hair, looks at the two of them, and laughs. Her shirt is soaked through with sweat. Myka's blouse is rumpled and – Helena smirks – her trousers are stained. The cock still juts proudly from between Myka's hips.
"Okay?" Myka says, catching a stray piece of hair and tucking it behind Helena's ear.
"Oh, yes," Helena says giddily. She runs one finger up the side of Myka's cock, then takes it between her lips, biting the pad, letting Myka see her teeth. "Take me to bed, Agent Bering," she says.
"Yeah?" Myka asks, like she's still not quite sure.
"Yes," Helena says, certain, and takes a breath.
Author:
tellitslantFandom: Warehouse 13
Characters/pairing: H.G. Wells/Myka Bering
Rating: Explicit
Word count: 1700
Disclaimer: Characters are property of SyFy etc. This is a transformative work; no infringement is intended.
Notes: Written for the
femslash_kink meme 2012 prompt "Genderplay (Myka dressed as a man), strapon, doggy-style." Thanks to sophia_gratia for beta.Warnings: None. Spoilers through early season four; set vaguely in a later-season-four future.
Summary:
*
Helena sighs and settles into the overstuffed armchair. She pauses, hand hovering over the pile of books on the side table, and waits.
Nothing.
Not a sound; the B&B is silent. Myka is in her room – shopping online for her niece- or nephew-to-be, Helena thinks – but everyone else, even Leena, is out. The silence is exquisite.
It's the first day since her return that has left her with time to reorient herself, to figure out if the place she left in the Warehouse was ever real or just another part of her schemes. After so long away she isn't quite certain, but now that she has some leisure, Helena intends to make the most of it. She thumbs the covers of the books, deliberating, prolonging the uncertainty of choice.
"Helena."
Helena starts. She neither saw nor heard Myka come in.
Myka strolls across the room. She's barefoot under charcoal-grey trousers – that explains how she moved so quietly. But something else is different, Helena thinks. She moves with a looseness that is absent from her usual crisp stride. Her blouse is untucked, but her hair is pulled back in a tight bun. It sharpens the angles of her face as she gazes down at Helena.
"Myka," Helena replies, looking up calmly.
"Agent Bering," Myka corrects.
Helena's breath catches. "Agent Bering," she acknowledges. So this is the game. Anticipation curls in her stomach; she sits forward, books forgotten, and her eyes drop to the crotch of Myka's trousers. A familiar shape strains against the zipper. Helena swallows, thinking of the first time Myka let Helena see her with it, the look on Myka's face that said I trust you and I want you in equal measures. Helena needs to feel that way again, needs it so badly she's almost been afraid to hope for it. But Myka understands.
"You've been back for days, but you've hardly said a word to me outside of work." Myka leans against the table and strokes Helena's hair.
Helena closes her eyes and luxuriates in the touch. After being bronzed, after the Janus coin, she'd wondered if she would ever truly feel again. Myka's hand tightens in her hair, just slightly, and she licks her lips. "I – didn't want to assume," she says. She's spent so long proving herself that sometimes she expects to be asked to believe three impossible things before she can have her breakfast.
"So instead of assuming I wanted to talk to you, you assumed I didn't? Helena." Her touch gentles. This time, when Helena looks up, it's Myka looking down, not Agent Bering, regardless of the hair.
"I am sorry, darling," Helena says, starting to smile. She reaches out and twines her fingers in Myka's belt loops. Tugging until the bulge in Myka's trousers is at eye level, she glances up through her lashes. "Is there some way I can make it up to you?"
Myka's fighting a grin, but the look in her eyes still makes Helena's heart beat faster. She's already tugging at the zipper when Myka says, "Take it out."
Helena unbuttons, unzips, and spreads the fly open wide enough that she can pull the phallus through the opening. She takes a moment to admire it as Myka adjusts the straps on her harness. Of all the technological advances to which Myka has introduced her, silicone may be one of her favourites. It is such an improvement on ivory or wood – so much more forgiving to the mouth.
"Well?" Myka demands. She cups her hand around Helena's head, not rough, just exerting a steady pressure. "Suck me," she says, her breath already uneven.
Helena rests one hand on Myka's hip and licks the tip of Myka's cock. Everything about this is familiar. She knows just what to do. Eyes locked with Myka's, she takes the head into her mouth; hollowing her cheeks, she pulls off, leaving it wet with her saliva.
Myka trembles and widens her stance.
Sliding her hand away from Myka's hip, Helena grasps the cock by its shaft. As she takes it into her mouth again, she presses back, grinding its base against Myka's clit.
Myka fists her hand in Helena's hair and moans. "Oh. Oh, my God," she says. "You look so good with my cock in your mouth."
Helena is used to those words now. The first time Myka said them knocked Helena completely out of the moment; she'd used any number of artificial phalluses in the past herself without wanting to call any of them 'hers' like that. The idea of 'Myka's cock' is strangely appealing, though, and has been ever since Helena realized just how intense her enjoyment is. Myka doesn't always wear it, but when she does, Helena loves her responsiveness and how it becomes a part of her.
Helena pulls back with a wet slurp, giving Myka a chance to catch her breath. "Am I forgiven yet?" she asks, biting her lip. The question isn't as flippant as she makes it sound.
"Oh boy." Myka laughs. "I don't know. Do you really mean it?"
Helena doesn't answer, just slides two fingers into her mouth, then draws them out slowly from between her swollen lips. She works her hand into Myka's trousers at the same time as she lowers her head to Myka's cock again.
Myka is wet under Helena's fingers, skin slick and hot, and Helena groans around her cock. The harness strap hits Myka right between her lips, rubbing with each pull of Helena's mouth. Helena wiggles her fingers in the tight space, making Myka whimper. There's not enough room to enter her, but Helena aligns her fingers around the strap, rubbing the length of her cunt and occasionally teasing inside.
"Fuck, Helena, yes," Myka chants. She's trembling all over, her hands in Helena's hair and on her shoulder barely keeping her upright. Her hips rock into Helena's mouth and Helena draws back.
Myka's cunt is soaking Helena's hand and her cock is heavy on Helena's tongue. Helena presses her thighs together and wants, wants to see Myka come like this, to make Myka come like this. She can't speak to say it, though, so she tries to show it instead. She keeps pressure on Myka's clit with the base of the cock, rubbing circles in time with Myka's thrusts.
Finally Myka stills and whimpers. Helena pulls back to watch as she gasps through her orgasm, eyes shut and head thrown back. At the last, she crumples forward onto the chair and wraps herself around Helena. "Holy shit," she says, pressing her lips to Helena's temple.
"I do try," Helena says.
Myka kisses Helena's cheekbone, then the corner of her mouth, just where the stretch leaves her a bit sore. "You have such a pretty mouth," she murmurs against Helena's skin. She traces her finger along the curve of Helena's lower lip, then kisses her, so gently that Helena shivers and moans. She loops her arms around Myka's neck and lets herself relax into the sensation.
They trade lazy kisses for a while, until Myka runs her hand down over Helena's shoulder and cups her breast. Helena gasps sharply, oversensitive. "Take off your pants," Myka says, standing.
Helena hurries to comply. She shoves them off, socks and underwear too, and Myka draws her into another kiss. They're not quite of a height; Helena lifts herself onto her toes, rubbing against Myka, trying and failing to get the friction she needs.
Myka grabs Helena's shoulders and moves her back. "Turn around," she says. "Turn around and bend over," and Helena feels herself get even wetter.
She turns slowly and bends from the waist. Legs apart, hands on the back of the armchair, she looks over her shoulder. The room shifts, cool air whispering up the inside of her thighs and over her cunt, and she twitches.
Myka is watching. She places one hand on the curve of Helena's ass and slides it around to her hip, stepping close enough that Helena can feel the heat of her body. Her other hand dips between Helena's legs without warning. Helena gasps and pushes back, but it's gone, trailing wetness back up over the flesh of her arse.
"Are you ready?" Myka asks, cock nudging at Helena's cunt.
"Please," Helena begs. Myka slides in slowly and Helena surprises herself by moaning. She's not loud like Myka can be, but as Myka draws out and thrusts again, Helena can't help the noises she makes.
Myka wraps one hand around Helena's hip and pulls her back so they are fitted together. Helena's shirt is sticking to her. Myka's trousers rub against Helena's thighs with every shallow thrust. Helena's entire body is flushed with sensation. Her breath pants in and out of her throat.
"Is this good?" Myka asks softly, checking in even though she hardly needs to. Helena gulps and nods, fingers clutching at the fabric of the armchair.
Myka sets a slow pace, her other hand sliding around to rub Helena's clit. It's too much and not enough all at once, pleasure sparking along Helena's nerves and drowning out her uncertainties. She holds out as long as she can, letting the pressure build until it's almost uncomfortable.
"Now," she gasps, grabbing Myka's wrist. She puts Myka's fingers right where she needs them and lets her head drop down, groaning, pushing back as Myka pushes forward and then she's coming, skin tingling, caught between Myka's cock and Myka's fingers and Myka's breath on the back of her neck. She thinks she says something; she's not sure what.
Myka pulls out slowly and Helena whimpers. She staggers, nearly falls, and then Myka is behind her, easing them both down to the floor.
Helena runs her hands through her hair, looks at the two of them, and laughs. Her shirt is soaked through with sweat. Myka's blouse is rumpled and – Helena smirks – her trousers are stained. The cock still juts proudly from between Myka's hips.
"Okay?" Myka says, catching a stray piece of hair and tucking it behind Helena's ear.
"Oh, yes," Helena says giddily. She runs one finger up the side of Myka's cock, then takes it between her lips, biting the pad, letting Myka see her teeth. "Take me to bed, Agent Bering," she says.
"Yeah?" Myka asks, like she's still not quite sure.
"Yes," Helena says, certain, and takes a breath.
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I don't always see Myka as dominant, but sometimes it works really well - and given that Myka basically throttled Helena into submission back in "For the Team," well... it's a dynamic I think they might occasionally play with. ;)
Their love IS so epic. Why is it not back on our screens til APRIL.
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I love it when Myka tops - she, IMO, comes off as kinkier than many fics portray her to be.
"I do try," Helena says.
You know when you can just *see* a character saying something? Case in point. Haha.
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I love it when Myka tops - she, IMO, comes off as kinkier than many fics portray her to be. Yess! I see her so often as the wide-eyed ingenue and it bugs me (almost as much as "H.G. is Victorian and they so didn't ever think about sex then!!1!"). She grew up in a bookstore, which means she's going to be open to all sorts of possibilities, right? Plus she's not actually tremendously confident, which means that control is good (and when she gives it up, ohboy). And also, I am pretty sure that Helena could talk anyone into anything, sooooo. *g*
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I squeed at Ariestess on IM when I saw this, and squeed again when I realized it was kink!
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