The Facility - Sanctuary/WH13 Crossover - Pt 3 - Fire and Ice & Pt 4 - Small Steps
Title: The Facility Series - Part 3 - Fire and Ice & Part - 4 Small Steps
Archive: Just ask
Author: Fox - madfoxzz
Disclaimer: I don’t own them, I just like to fiddle with them. I don’t claim to speak through any official channels for either show, or the production company, and there is no profit being made. Dr Sierra Mawer and the Facility are mine all mine tho :)
Pairing: Helen Magnus/OFC (Sierra Mawer) - Myka/HG Wells
Fandom: Warehouse 13 and Sanctuary crossover
Rating: MA - NC-17 NSFW!!.
Spoilers: Takes place after Warehouse 13 S2 and Sanctuary S2
A/N: Thank you to Nadezehdast, stargate_sg1sg1 and others who suggested I try a crossover, this is fun!
A/N2: Please comment if you like it, I see people are visiting/reading, but I don't know if I should keep pursuing this. Given the amount of time I spend working on it, if no one finds it compelling, I might as well work on my other book.
The Facility Series - Part 1 - M&M
Part 3 - Fire and Ice
Myka crouched behind the median barricade. The early morning hour meant there was no traffic yet, but someone would come along eventually and get hurt if the guy on the other side of the wall had anything to say about it. She explored a back molar with her tongue causing her lips to twist. Pete knew that look, he just hoped her I-have-an-idea look would follow soon. She snuck a peek over the edge of the concrete and ducked as another fireball slammed into the divider.
She had seen what she needed to. “Get that door Pete,” she said, gesturing to the door of their SUV laying on the tar where it had landed after being separated from their vehicle in the initial onslaught. She scanned the rest of the wreckage. It was hard to see the yellow handled multi-tool under the orange lights, but there it was in the debris, with no cover between her and it. It had been a gift from H.G, “So you will always safely return to me,” She’d said in her note. She had told Myka to keep it in her pocket, saying a woman should always have her tools. Now Myka had to agree, her gear bag wasn’t close enough.
Catching Myka’s drift Pete grabbed the inside door handle and held it up like a shield pounding his knuckles on the metal and grunting. “What are we doing Myks?” He asked over the boom of more fireballs being hurled at them.
“I need you to go that way and draw his fire,” Myka shouted, he giggled and she scowled at him.
“No pun intended?” He laughed again, and then got serious, “Ok, then what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to stop him,” She said grimly, getting her feet underneath her. “1, 2, 3, GO!”
They both leapt up, Pete going one direction and Myka going for her tool. Once she gripped it she spun and saw Pete zig-zagging away from her on the other side of the barricade, the SUV door taking most of the force of the fiery onslaught. Charging, she swung her legs over the barricade and sprinted across the three lanes between herself and the fire hydrant. Locking the spanner on the lug, she put her weight behind it and cranked, releasing a flood of water which slammed into the flaming man. Rather than putting him out, the water rapidly turned to ice all the way back to the hydrant and expanded until it blew apart and knocked her flat.
Seconds later the flaming man turned his attention back to Pete and was blind sided by the car door.
“HA! I was the distraction from the distraction! Go Pete! Go Pete!” He pulled out a purple glove, yanked the pendant and cord off the man’s neck and dropped it in a foil bag.
A muddy Myka gingerly picked herself up and wished he wouldn’t refer to himself in the third person every time he accomplished anything. She walked over to him, pulling out her Farnsworth and calling Artie. Pete showed her a fire opal and diamond pendant through the clear side of the bag.
It all came together as she and Artie spoke. The flaming man was a jewel thief who had stumbled on to the Fire and Ice stone. It was a gift given to Robert Frost while he was in England and the actual inspiration behind his poem Fire and Ice.
“Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice,
From what I’ve tasted of desire,
I hold with those who favor fire
But if I had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate,
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice” Pete recited to the stunned silence of both Artie and Myka.
Claudia’s face popped in next to Artie’s in the view screen, “Yo P-man what the hey?”
Pete looked as surprised they did, “What? - It was in Twilight Eclipse - It’s a cool poem - What?”
Myka just shook her head and smiled at him.
##########
Part 4 - Small Steps
Mawer led Helen back to her office and opened a recessed door on the left. As she entered the apartment Magnus couldn’t help but be impressed. In the spacious living quarters the walls were covered with bookshelves from floor to ceiling. The bright colors of the spines were complimented by the rich burgundy and black leather furniture. In one corner there was an entertainment system and Helen spotted speakers strategically spaced throughout the stacks of books. Another corner was occupied by a piano and trap set. There was a kitchen behind a bar to the left, and a doorway that Helen assumed lead to a bedroom and bath on the right. There were tiers of herbs and a few large floor plants here and there, each under its own grow light.
“Would you like to choose some music?” Sierra grabbed an iPad and handed it to her.
“Yes,” Helen said as she took it and began to scan Sierra’s sizable music collection, which spanned the world and several centuries. Sierra disappeared into the doorway reemerging moments later wearing a fresh pair of jeans and a green t-shirt with a wraparound tree design. She crossed directly to the kitchen.
“This is certainly a nice place.”
“Huh?” Mawer looked up from digging something out of the crisper in the refrigerator. “Oh, yeah, I suppose. It’s comfortable. When you can’t go out, you bring the outside in.” She shrugged as she began to heat olive oil and garlic in a pan. “Sorry it’s kind of a bachelor pad. Can I offer you something to drink? I would usually have a sauvignon blanc with this, if that’s acceptable?
“That would be nice thank you.” Helen said wandering around the space, “You have a fair amount of technology here,” She continued as she played with the light dimmer switches on the iPad lowering the light in the main room and leaving it brighter in the kitchen as Sierra cooked. “I’ve always thought there’s two ways to handle progress, you can either embrace it as it comes or cling to the past and become upset every time you notice things have changed around you.”
“I think you’re right,” Mawer said, “If I let myself ignore technology, or current events for that matter, I’d be less effective and less relatable to the people I work with That would just make my job harder. In addition I’d be much more unhappy that I’m stuck here…. While the telephone was a little annoying, the internet was a nice change.”
“Yes it was,” Helen agreed.
“It’s difficult for me on the internet though, interacting with people but not being able to sense their mood.”
“Welcome to the world the rest of us live in.” Helen quipped. She hit play on the iPad and female voices softly rose in a chant from the many speakers.
Sierra was bent over with her head was in the refrigerator again. “Ah, Anonymous 4 - Hildegard Von Bingen - Origin of Fire. Nice.”
Helen walked over to the bar and took up the glass of wine Sierra had set for her. She leaned over to hear better, but the view was nice too she noted. Sierra felt the heightening of Helen’s mood. Attraction and being attracted, things so many people take for granted. “I’m assuming you aren’t a vegetarian given that you’re wearing leather…” She said to the refrigerator shelf.
“No, I eat meat.”
“Ok,” Mawer said and grabbed some chicken and spinach. Standing, she turned and caught Magnus appreciating her backside. Well, ‘caught’ wasn’t the right word Sierra thought, because Magnus didn’t look away when Mawer met her gaze again. Sierra swallowed and her cheeks burned. “Like what you see?” She questioned.
“You know I do.” Magnus purred, it was fun to put Mawer off balance. When it came to the art of seduction Helen was a master, though she had never been attracted to an empath. Helen didn’t need to be able to sense another’s emotions to know that Mawer was attracted to her too, but that innate shyness in the personal realm was clearly a force in itself to be reckoned with. “You mentioned your theory that emotional energy gets more intense the longer a person is alive. Do you have a theory as to why this occurs?”
“I don’t have a theory why, but I have a theory how it works. It seems to be similar to cognition. As a person lives his or her life they habitually use certain parts of their minds more than others. As this occurs specific neural pathways are reinforced and get stronger and more interconnected. I think it’s the same with emotional energy. Young people have the same breadth of emotions as older people, but it’s all roiling at the surface. As we age we gain more depth and are more nuanced in certain areas, particularly the ones used most often. Like a river, it slowly makes its own path in response to environment and its own strength. As they get older some people have deep narrow rivers, some shallow wide rivers, and so on.”
Mawer tossed the chicken she had just diced into the pan with some mushrooms and turned down the heat, then she turned on the heat under a pot of tortellini waiting to boil. “For the average person with an average life span the differences might be barely noticeable. There are more emotionally ‘mature’ young people and ‘young’ older people too, so for most the effect is barely noteworthy for anyone but the person him or herself. However after what I noticed after meeting H.G. and now you, I am more certain than ever that I am right in thinking it’s progressive. The downside is that having lived essentially two lifetimes you two have the ability to completely overwhelm my empathic sense. H.G.’s strongest emotion is pain, which I have dealt with so often blocking that is second nature despite the intensity. You on the other hand are much more well rounded and bring with you an entirely new set of variables. As such, you are an unknown quantity.”
Helen was intrigued by a possibility, “So I have a sort of power over you.”
Sierra stopped and considered this, measuring the connotations. She let the handful of spinach fall into the pan then glanced at Helen over her shoulder. “It’s possible,” she said with a veneer of nonchalance, “Don’t let it go to your head.”
Helen watched Sierra’s deft fingers as she worked halving cherry tomatoes. She deliberately imagined those fingers running over her skin, rolling her nipple and sliding inside of her. She let the wave of adrenaline flood her senses for a moment and watched Mawer’s reaction.
Caught unprepared, Mawer stopped cold and closed her eyes for a moment to process the sensations Helen’s feelings wrought inside her own mind. Sierra needed to recalibrate, compartmentalize, and do everything else she knew to keep from moaning out loud. Then she cast Helen a smoldering look, realizing that Magnus was knowingly teasing her. She strode over to Helen and leaned over the bar to growl in her ear, but couldn’t think of what to say, so she leaned back, locking her gaze. Magnus feigned innocence and simply rested her chin on a propped arm. Mawer turned on her heel and went back to cooking. “I can see why you and H.G. would get along so well, but be exes.” She said over her shoulder.
Magnus smiled, challenge given, challenge received. “How many people are housed in this facility?” She asked.
“Eight hundred and sixty two, plus another 250 guards and techs on any given day and assorted visitors, mostly Regents. I’m not sure how to categorize Helena’s team, but there are only 15 of them so far, and their handler. And me.”
Attempting to throw Mawer again, she changed tack, “Have you had many lovers down here in your little ‘den’?”
Sierra smiled to herself, ready for the second wash of emotion she watched Helen this time. Her heart still pounded and her breath still caught, but she wasn’t in danger of being overwhelmed. “I’m no novice if that’s what your asking,” She sighed, “but no, not really. I’m never going to meet anyone outside of work, and everyone I knew from my youth is gone. Of course being empathic, there is no point being with someone who’s not interested in me, and I simply frighten most people…” She turned off the stove and dumped the tortellini in a strainer, “When was the last time you, um, had a little romance?”
“Clinton was in office,” Magnus said wryly.
Sierra smiled, “Truman,” she said of her self as she pulled down two plates and began arranging the pasta and sauce. “It’s difficult when you see the same time pass as everyone else, but it has less and less effect on you. You start to watch the arc of their lives like they’re stories in a book. You still feel connected, you care what happens to the characters, but you always feel the distance like that between the reader and the page. No matter how amazing the story is you always know it is going to end before you want it to.”
She felt sorrow rise in the air between them. Sierra had known Helen would be able to relate, but she could also tell now that Helen had recently lost someone. Carrying the plates over, Sierra watched Helen’s eyes search the stacks of books, but said nothing. If the answers were there Sierra had not found them. Sadly this was Sierra’s comfort zone, though the grief was a little more keen than usual. She realized she had, without thinking, opened her mind a bit more to Helen and the focus had shut out much of the underlying emotional noise from the others. It was the noise which she often used to offset whatever she was getting from the person she was working with to keep her distance. She didn’t want to maintain that professional distance from Helen though, what was happening between them was something different.
Placing the plates and silverware on the bar she sat down next to Helen, reached out and touched Helen’s knee. It was a welcome touch and Helen’s eyes came back from their distance to find Mawer. The Antiphon - ‘Caritas habundat in omina’ came through the speakers. Sierra didn’t know much Latin, but she knew this translation: ‘love overflows into all things’.
Helen knew the translation too and she covered Mawer’s hand with her own before Sierra could pull it away. “What do you miss?” She asked, letting go of the despondency, refusing to brood any longer on what was past.
“The cold,” Sierra said immediately, her eyes turning upward as if she could see outside through the layers of concrete, “I miss the bite of the winter wind, and the tingle in your cheeks as you come inside with your face scrubbed raw by the cold and wind and snow. The very real sense that if you were not careful, it could kill you right where you stood, without violence, or thought, and hold you there frozen until the season changed again. In its own way, the cold made live worth living.”
Helen’s lips brushed hers and Sierra could feel Helen’s rising desire mingling with her own. “See,” Helen whispered, “I knew beneath all that shyness, there beats the heart of a poet.”
Sierra’s breath caught and her eyes fluttered shut. She leaned forward and caught Helen’s lips again. They were soft yet strong, firm yet yielding, like the woman herself. Helen felt Sierra let go of her hand, then fingers brushing her hair back and resting at her neck. Sierra shifted and rose, stepping forward to stand between Helen’s knees. Helen deepened the kiss, wrapping her arms around Mawer’s shoulders and tightening her thighs around Mawer’s hips. She explored further with her tongue when Sierra moaned into her.
Craving, both her own and Helen’s flooded Sierra’s mind blocking out everything else. She had forgotten this, the sweet focus that having her mind consumed by a lover’s brought. All the other lights in her mind representing other people in the facility blinked out and it was only the two of them. Then the balance tipped and her muscles tensed, “Helen,” She whispered, her voice husky, she struggled to find cognizant thought in the whirling press of emotions. “Helen,” she said again breathless, “I’m overwhelmed - I’m helpless here.”
Helen pressed her forehead to Sierra’s and took a deep breath, stilling her own mind. “Better?”
Sierra’s breathing slowed; she swallowed and nodded, “Yeah.” She looked into Helen’s eyes, “You are unlike anyone I’ve ever met.”
She took a moment to disentangle her mind from Helen’s, grounding herself by concentrating on her own body. Helen’s legs were wrapped around her hips, she could feel each finger gripping her back and hair, and the feel of Helen’s lips on her own lingering. Then she sensed Helen’s feelings: want, lust, tenderness, playfulness, and beneath it all, a smoldering desire for life, stronger than she had ever felt. That desire was the same as her own and the depth of will and substance within this woman was unfathomable. That sheer depth of being was the culprit threatening to swamp the boatful of skills she had to deal with her ability. She had never felt this vulnerable.
Helen’s gentle nature prevailed over her hormones immediately. She looked over and her eyes rested on the piano, she had an idea, “We shall eat, we’ll talk, and we’ll keep taking things a step at a time so you can acclimate.”
“Ok,” Sierra said and nodded. Helen unwrapped herself from Sierra who pulled her barstool closer and sat, her leg still touching Helen’s.
They ate and talked about everything and nothing. Helen told Sierra stories of her adventures finding and harboring rare beings. Sierra found stories from her own work that made Helen laugh.
“And in the end, he left here looking completely normal except for one long feather that would not stop sprouting from the top of his head,” Sierra chuckled.
Helen couldn’t stop the giggles, her eyes teared up and she gasped for air. “The things people will do for love,” she finally managed, “Did you ever determine which species of bird the feathers were from?”
“I’m pretty sure it was a pheasant, one of those long tail feathers kept growing back,” she indicated a good three feet of space between upraised fingers, “I understand she took him back, so maybe it did the same thing for him the plumage does for the birds,” She theorized, “Anyway, he sent me a picture once. He’d grown his hair long and gathered it in a topknot around the feather. He just looked like any other free spirit that way.” Sierra smiled at the memory. So few cases were mild enough to become success stories these days.
Helen caught her breath and sipped her wine, watching Mawer over the rim of her glass. She set it down, picked up a cherry tomato and offered it to Sierra. The woman opened her mouth and accepted the fruit, capturing Helen’s fingers gently between her teeth and licking the sauce from her fingertips. Helen then brushed a few wisps of blond hair out of Sierra’s eyes. “You need a haircut youngling.”
“Youngling yourself,” Sierra murmured taking Helen’s hand and holding it to her cheek, watching her eyes, “I’m six years older than you.”
Helen blew out a dismissive breath and added, “Trifles.”
“Trifles or not, can’t hide from the truth,” Sierra said. “When you were 20 I was 26 and already pressed into service at Warehouse 12.” She pointed out.
Helen’s lip twitched as she searched the face before her. She couldn’t remember, not even after recently finding her father, the last time she felt young with someone. There was a comfort in being with someone who knew the 1800’s were more than just a chapter in a history book no one seemed to read anymore. Mawer also understood the joys and pains of having lived twice the usual human lifespan. Helen was not alarmed by the connection she felt to Mawer, but the depth of that connection did surprise her. In any case, Mawer was company she wished to keep, come what may. She nodded over at the piano, “Play a song for me,” she said.
Mawer hesitated. She’d only sung for others at church over a hundred years ago and had never played the piano for anyone.
She stood, walked over to the piano, sat back down and said, “I’m not very good I’m afraid. I leave Rachmaninoff to the virtuosi, but…” She paused, decided, and began to play a simple tune with a walking bass line - then she began to sing:
Have you ever fed a lover, with just your hands?
Closed your eyes and trusted,
just trusted?
Have you ever thrown a fistful of glitter in the air?
Have you ever looked fear in the face and said, “I just don’t care?”
Sierra’s voice rose in clear strong tones. Helen had heard the tune before in Will’s office. It was ‘Glitter in the Air’ by Pink, such a remarkable young woman. She mischievously pushed Sierra over and sat next to her, plunking out another melody entirely. Pretending to ignore her, but watching her from the corner of her eye, Mawer soldiered on,
It’s only half past the point of no return,
The tip of the iceberg,
The sun before the burn,
The thunder before the lightening
The breath before the phrase,
Have you ever felt this way?
Helen changed distraction tactics. With the lightest touch of her fingertips she began to toy with the short blonde hairs on the back of Sierra’s neck. She smiled when Mawer cleared her throat and hit three notes out of order. Sierra turned her head to Helen as she sang,
Have you ever hated yourself, for staring at the phone?
Your whole life waiting on the ring to prove, you’re not alone.
She looked back at the keys,
Have you ever been, touched so gently you had to cry?
Have you ever invited a stranger to come inside?
Helen leaned over to ghost her lips over the shell of an ear, getting an, “Mmmmmf,” from Sierra which Helen was certain wasn’t in the lyrics,
It’s only half past, the point of oblivion
The hourglass on the table
The walk before the run
The breath before the kiss
And the fear before the flames
Have you ever felt this way?
The lyrics demanded a series of la la la’s as the music gained intensity. Mawer focused on the keys more intently.
There you are, sitting in the garden
Clutching my coffee,
Calling me sugar
You called me sugar
Shifting to straddle the bench, Helen nestled up to Sierra putting one leg over Sierra’s knee and sliding the other against her back. Kissing and sucking her neck just below the point where her blond hair fell, Helen heard Sierra’s breath hitch and the tempo slow. “No. Don’t stop,” She breathed into Sierra’s ear, “Keep playing.” Sierra wasn’t quite sure how, but she continued, unable to deny Helen’s request,
Have you ever wished for an endless night?
Sierra felt a hand on her side as Helen’s tongue drew circles where her neck and shoulder joined. The hand inched slowly to her breast and the fingers found her nipple through the fabric. Her breath left her and she was forced to whisper halfway through the next line,
Lassoed the moon and the stars and pulled that rope tight?
Helen had leaned further and was nibbling the front of her throat. Sierra felt dizzy and moaned. She took a deep trembling breath as her hands traveled over the keys, automatically repeating the phrase over and over again until Helen gave her respite by laying her head on Sierra’s shoulder and her hand on her own thigh.
Have you ever held your breath and asked yourself -
Will it ever get better than tonight?
Tonight
Helen didn’t move again until Sierra had finished. “I want to make love to you,” She whispered in Sierra’s ear, then reached up and pulled her into a searing kiss. Sierra tensed but the overbalance didn’t happen this time so she relaxed, letting herself be consumed by Helen’s will. When they pulled back Helen said, “The distraction was what you needed to adjust to the intensity.”
“Oh,” Sierra blinked and uncertainty over where they were going gripped her, “Are you sure you want to do this? We’ve only just met.”
Standing, Helen took Sierra’s hand and pulled her up too. “The longer I am alive,” Helen said, leading Sierra down the hall to the bedroom, “The less patience I have for mincing about with trivialities such as artificial rules placed on when sex is proper. Labels and lines, what others assume are suitable courtship routines should not govern what we let ourselves do.” They entered the room, Helen stopped and looked up, “This is beautiful,” she said, amazement in her voice. Again there were plants and book cases, but projected on the walls and ceiling were countless stars, creating the impression of being under a sky on a moonless night.
“It’s just some lasers and a projector, I forgot about them, they’re on a timer,” Sierra demurred, “I know it’s artificial, but I also know that people are meant to be outside. Our bodies didn’t evolve alone in the wilderness, our minds did too. I realized a long time ago that I needed to create this. This is another way I retain my humanity.”
Helen pulled Sierra into another kiss pressing her hard against the wall. Sierra’s fingers found the buttons of Helen’s top and slipped them one by one, sliding the leather off her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. Helen’s bra followed and Sierra’s shirt and bra landed beside them next. As they moved Sierra was showing another habit that disconcerted Helen. She noticed each time she touched the blonde anywhere but her back that Sierra would shift out from under her hand.
“I want you to let me touch you,” Helen whispered.
Confused, Sierra paused, “Why? I’ll feel whatever you feel. I can focus on your pleasure and feel the same.”
“But it’s not the same,” Helen reasoned, “Your body still responds to my touch, it still wants to be touched, Sierra.” Her fingertips grazed Sierra’s breast, then slowly slid around to cup it. Sierra bit her lip.
“Your body still wants,” Helen repeated holding Sierra’s gaze.
“Yes,” Sierra whispered lost in Helen’s eyes, her heart beating hard.
She rubbed her thumb over a tight nipple, “Your body still needs.”
Sierra drew in another trembling breath, “Yes,” she responded again. Helen moved her hand slowly down the length of Sierra’s torso and slid her fingers into Mawer’s jeans and over her center finding moisture and heat. Sierra gasped, her breath becoming shallow and ragged.
“So I ask again,” Helen said softly, “please let me touch you too.”
Sierra couldn’t do anything but nod and catch her breath when Helen took her hand away and lead her to the bed.
“Does anyone ever deny you anything?” Sierra asked.
“Rarely.” Helen responded with a devious grin, tugging Sierra’s jeans down so she could step out of them.
Sierra slipped the catch on Helen’s pants and they joined the rest of the clothes on the floor. She pressed Helen backward onto the bed kissing and exploring until Helen flipped her over, straddled her hips and bit her rib. Sliding her hands up Sierra’s sides Helen brought them to rest on the other woman’s breasts. She plucked and teased Sierra’s nipples while kissing her sternum. Then she slid a thigh between Sierra’s and pressed hard. Sierra arched into the touch with a groan from deep in her throat. Helen was almost as aroused by giving as she had been receiving. Almost, Sierra thought, and rolled her over again.
Helen was used to taking control, used to being the elder and more experienced one in all aspects of her life, including lovemaking. She couldn’t make that assumption here. Sierra had Helen’s arms pinned above her and was using her larger frame to hold her down. “So you have me,” Helen pressed into the taller woman, “what will you do with me?”
Sierra released her wrists one at a time and rested on her elbow. She licked her lips and studiously ran her thumb over Helen’s nipple watching her face. Then she took it and pinched until Helen felt fire and bared her teeth, but released just before it was too much. “You will it, speak it, and it’s done.” She said softly.
Helen took a sharp breath as the heat of Sierra’s mouth enveloped the peak of her other breast. “I want to touch you and be touched.” She said, barely audible, “To pleasure you as you feel the pleasure you give me.”
Sierra kissed her way back up to Helen’s lips while she shifted and let the brunette sit up against the pillows until they were facing, legs wrapped loosely around each other. Helen watched Sierra’s face for any sign of uncertainty but found none. Beginning at her ribs Helen dragged her hand down Sierra’s body until she found a small patch of fur, then slid two fingers on either side of her clit.
Sierra’s blond head dropped and she mewled, leaning her forehead against Helen’s shoulder as she herself reached forward and pressed her palm to Helen’s sex. She nibbled at Helen’s pulse point and slid inside her. Helen’s breath caught. She took a handful of hair and brought Sierra’s lips back to her mouth then mirrored her, pressing slowly inside the other woman. They both moved slowly, simultaneously together and against each other. A bead of sweat formed and lazily made its way down the side of Sierra’s cheek. Helen kissed it away and increased the tempo, feeling Sierra do the same.
Sierra strained. She felt her hand inside Helen, Helen’s fingers inside her and a palm on her clit. She felt Helen’s need rising but not yet breaking. Her heart drummed and her breaths were shallow, then she realized Helen was holding back for her. She pleaded and her voice cracked. “Let go Helen. Please let go.”
Helen clutched Sierra’s back, holding tight against her. With her hips meeting each thrust she moaned in pleasure and bit Sierra’s shoulder. A fire pulsed through her blood, as she unraveled her muscles shook. Sierra stilled and cried out, arching against her milliseconds later, then whimpered and gripped her for support, gasping for air.
Helen held her for a minute, then dropped her hip and laid her down with Sierra resting on her arm. Helen curled around her protectively. She kissed and pet Sierra’s hair as they lay recovering. When Sierra sighed and nuzzled her face into Helen’s neck, every muscle in Helen’s body relaxed. The feeling was so familiar but had been out of reach for so long.
“Helen,” Sierra whispered, “It’s no accident your name can be said in a contented sigh.”
Helen smiled, and pulled the covers down underneath them. With a little wiggling they were nestled under the duvet. This time Helen was curled up resting on Sierra’s arm as they drifted.
The Facility Series - Part 5 & Part 6
Archive: Just ask
Author: Fox - madfoxzz
Disclaimer: I don’t own them, I just like to fiddle with them. I don’t claim to speak through any official channels for either show, or the production company, and there is no profit being made. Dr Sierra Mawer and the Facility are mine all mine tho :)
Pairing: Helen Magnus/OFC (Sierra Mawer) - Myka/HG Wells
Fandom: Warehouse 13 and Sanctuary crossover
Rating: MA - NC-17 NSFW!!.
Spoilers: Takes place after Warehouse 13 S2 and Sanctuary S2
A/N: Thank you to Nadezehdast, stargate_sg1sg1 and others who suggested I try a crossover, this is fun!
A/N2: Please comment if you like it, I see people are visiting/reading, but I don't know if I should keep pursuing this. Given the amount of time I spend working on it, if no one finds it compelling, I might as well work on my other book.
The Facility Series - Part 1 - M&M
Part 3 - Fire and Ice
Myka crouched behind the median barricade. The early morning hour meant there was no traffic yet, but someone would come along eventually and get hurt if the guy on the other side of the wall had anything to say about it. She explored a back molar with her tongue causing her lips to twist. Pete knew that look, he just hoped her I-have-an-idea look would follow soon. She snuck a peek over the edge of the concrete and ducked as another fireball slammed into the divider.
She had seen what she needed to. “Get that door Pete,” she said, gesturing to the door of their SUV laying on the tar where it had landed after being separated from their vehicle in the initial onslaught. She scanned the rest of the wreckage. It was hard to see the yellow handled multi-tool under the orange lights, but there it was in the debris, with no cover between her and it. It had been a gift from H.G, “So you will always safely return to me,” She’d said in her note. She had told Myka to keep it in her pocket, saying a woman should always have her tools. Now Myka had to agree, her gear bag wasn’t close enough.
Catching Myka’s drift Pete grabbed the inside door handle and held it up like a shield pounding his knuckles on the metal and grunting. “What are we doing Myks?” He asked over the boom of more fireballs being hurled at them.
“I need you to go that way and draw his fire,” Myka shouted, he giggled and she scowled at him.
“No pun intended?” He laughed again, and then got serious, “Ok, then what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to stop him,” She said grimly, getting her feet underneath her. “1, 2, 3, GO!”
They both leapt up, Pete going one direction and Myka going for her tool. Once she gripped it she spun and saw Pete zig-zagging away from her on the other side of the barricade, the SUV door taking most of the force of the fiery onslaught. Charging, she swung her legs over the barricade and sprinted across the three lanes between herself and the fire hydrant. Locking the spanner on the lug, she put her weight behind it and cranked, releasing a flood of water which slammed into the flaming man. Rather than putting him out, the water rapidly turned to ice all the way back to the hydrant and expanded until it blew apart and knocked her flat.
Seconds later the flaming man turned his attention back to Pete and was blind sided by the car door.
“HA! I was the distraction from the distraction! Go Pete! Go Pete!” He pulled out a purple glove, yanked the pendant and cord off the man’s neck and dropped it in a foil bag.
A muddy Myka gingerly picked herself up and wished he wouldn’t refer to himself in the third person every time he accomplished anything. She walked over to him, pulling out her Farnsworth and calling Artie. Pete showed her a fire opal and diamond pendant through the clear side of the bag.
It all came together as she and Artie spoke. The flaming man was a jewel thief who had stumbled on to the Fire and Ice stone. It was a gift given to Robert Frost while he was in England and the actual inspiration behind his poem Fire and Ice.
“Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice,
From what I’ve tasted of desire,
I hold with those who favor fire
But if I had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate,
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice” Pete recited to the stunned silence of both Artie and Myka.
Claudia’s face popped in next to Artie’s in the view screen, “Yo P-man what the hey?”
Pete looked as surprised they did, “What? - It was in Twilight Eclipse - It’s a cool poem - What?”
Myka just shook her head and smiled at him.
##########
Part 4 - Small Steps
Mawer led Helen back to her office and opened a recessed door on the left. As she entered the apartment Magnus couldn’t help but be impressed. In the spacious living quarters the walls were covered with bookshelves from floor to ceiling. The bright colors of the spines were complimented by the rich burgundy and black leather furniture. In one corner there was an entertainment system and Helen spotted speakers strategically spaced throughout the stacks of books. Another corner was occupied by a piano and trap set. There was a kitchen behind a bar to the left, and a doorway that Helen assumed lead to a bedroom and bath on the right. There were tiers of herbs and a few large floor plants here and there, each under its own grow light.
“Would you like to choose some music?” Sierra grabbed an iPad and handed it to her.
“Yes,” Helen said as she took it and began to scan Sierra’s sizable music collection, which spanned the world and several centuries. Sierra disappeared into the doorway reemerging moments later wearing a fresh pair of jeans and a green t-shirt with a wraparound tree design. She crossed directly to the kitchen.
“This is certainly a nice place.”
“Huh?” Mawer looked up from digging something out of the crisper in the refrigerator. “Oh, yeah, I suppose. It’s comfortable. When you can’t go out, you bring the outside in.” She shrugged as she began to heat olive oil and garlic in a pan. “Sorry it’s kind of a bachelor pad. Can I offer you something to drink? I would usually have a sauvignon blanc with this, if that’s acceptable?
“That would be nice thank you.” Helen said wandering around the space, “You have a fair amount of technology here,” She continued as she played with the light dimmer switches on the iPad lowering the light in the main room and leaving it brighter in the kitchen as Sierra cooked. “I’ve always thought there’s two ways to handle progress, you can either embrace it as it comes or cling to the past and become upset every time you notice things have changed around you.”
“I think you’re right,” Mawer said, “If I let myself ignore technology, or current events for that matter, I’d be less effective and less relatable to the people I work with That would just make my job harder. In addition I’d be much more unhappy that I’m stuck here…. While the telephone was a little annoying, the internet was a nice change.”
“Yes it was,” Helen agreed.
“It’s difficult for me on the internet though, interacting with people but not being able to sense their mood.”
“Welcome to the world the rest of us live in.” Helen quipped. She hit play on the iPad and female voices softly rose in a chant from the many speakers.
Sierra was bent over with her head was in the refrigerator again. “Ah, Anonymous 4 - Hildegard Von Bingen - Origin of Fire. Nice.”
Helen walked over to the bar and took up the glass of wine Sierra had set for her. She leaned over to hear better, but the view was nice too she noted. Sierra felt the heightening of Helen’s mood. Attraction and being attracted, things so many people take for granted. “I’m assuming you aren’t a vegetarian given that you’re wearing leather…” She said to the refrigerator shelf.
“No, I eat meat.”
“Ok,” Mawer said and grabbed some chicken and spinach. Standing, she turned and caught Magnus appreciating her backside. Well, ‘caught’ wasn’t the right word Sierra thought, because Magnus didn’t look away when Mawer met her gaze again. Sierra swallowed and her cheeks burned. “Like what you see?” She questioned.
“You know I do.” Magnus purred, it was fun to put Mawer off balance. When it came to the art of seduction Helen was a master, though she had never been attracted to an empath. Helen didn’t need to be able to sense another’s emotions to know that Mawer was attracted to her too, but that innate shyness in the personal realm was clearly a force in itself to be reckoned with. “You mentioned your theory that emotional energy gets more intense the longer a person is alive. Do you have a theory as to why this occurs?”
“I don’t have a theory why, but I have a theory how it works. It seems to be similar to cognition. As a person lives his or her life they habitually use certain parts of their minds more than others. As this occurs specific neural pathways are reinforced and get stronger and more interconnected. I think it’s the same with emotional energy. Young people have the same breadth of emotions as older people, but it’s all roiling at the surface. As we age we gain more depth and are more nuanced in certain areas, particularly the ones used most often. Like a river, it slowly makes its own path in response to environment and its own strength. As they get older some people have deep narrow rivers, some shallow wide rivers, and so on.”
Mawer tossed the chicken she had just diced into the pan with some mushrooms and turned down the heat, then she turned on the heat under a pot of tortellini waiting to boil. “For the average person with an average life span the differences might be barely noticeable. There are more emotionally ‘mature’ young people and ‘young’ older people too, so for most the effect is barely noteworthy for anyone but the person him or herself. However after what I noticed after meeting H.G. and now you, I am more certain than ever that I am right in thinking it’s progressive. The downside is that having lived essentially two lifetimes you two have the ability to completely overwhelm my empathic sense. H.G.’s strongest emotion is pain, which I have dealt with so often blocking that is second nature despite the intensity. You on the other hand are much more well rounded and bring with you an entirely new set of variables. As such, you are an unknown quantity.”
Helen was intrigued by a possibility, “So I have a sort of power over you.”
Sierra stopped and considered this, measuring the connotations. She let the handful of spinach fall into the pan then glanced at Helen over her shoulder. “It’s possible,” she said with a veneer of nonchalance, “Don’t let it go to your head.”
Helen watched Sierra’s deft fingers as she worked halving cherry tomatoes. She deliberately imagined those fingers running over her skin, rolling her nipple and sliding inside of her. She let the wave of adrenaline flood her senses for a moment and watched Mawer’s reaction.
Caught unprepared, Mawer stopped cold and closed her eyes for a moment to process the sensations Helen’s feelings wrought inside her own mind. Sierra needed to recalibrate, compartmentalize, and do everything else she knew to keep from moaning out loud. Then she cast Helen a smoldering look, realizing that Magnus was knowingly teasing her. She strode over to Helen and leaned over the bar to growl in her ear, but couldn’t think of what to say, so she leaned back, locking her gaze. Magnus feigned innocence and simply rested her chin on a propped arm. Mawer turned on her heel and went back to cooking. “I can see why you and H.G. would get along so well, but be exes.” She said over her shoulder.
Magnus smiled, challenge given, challenge received. “How many people are housed in this facility?” She asked.
“Eight hundred and sixty two, plus another 250 guards and techs on any given day and assorted visitors, mostly Regents. I’m not sure how to categorize Helena’s team, but there are only 15 of them so far, and their handler. And me.”
Attempting to throw Mawer again, she changed tack, “Have you had many lovers down here in your little ‘den’?”
Sierra smiled to herself, ready for the second wash of emotion she watched Helen this time. Her heart still pounded and her breath still caught, but she wasn’t in danger of being overwhelmed. “I’m no novice if that’s what your asking,” She sighed, “but no, not really. I’m never going to meet anyone outside of work, and everyone I knew from my youth is gone. Of course being empathic, there is no point being with someone who’s not interested in me, and I simply frighten most people…” She turned off the stove and dumped the tortellini in a strainer, “When was the last time you, um, had a little romance?”
“Clinton was in office,” Magnus said wryly.
Sierra smiled, “Truman,” she said of her self as she pulled down two plates and began arranging the pasta and sauce. “It’s difficult when you see the same time pass as everyone else, but it has less and less effect on you. You start to watch the arc of their lives like they’re stories in a book. You still feel connected, you care what happens to the characters, but you always feel the distance like that between the reader and the page. No matter how amazing the story is you always know it is going to end before you want it to.”
She felt sorrow rise in the air between them. Sierra had known Helen would be able to relate, but she could also tell now that Helen had recently lost someone. Carrying the plates over, Sierra watched Helen’s eyes search the stacks of books, but said nothing. If the answers were there Sierra had not found them. Sadly this was Sierra’s comfort zone, though the grief was a little more keen than usual. She realized she had, without thinking, opened her mind a bit more to Helen and the focus had shut out much of the underlying emotional noise from the others. It was the noise which she often used to offset whatever she was getting from the person she was working with to keep her distance. She didn’t want to maintain that professional distance from Helen though, what was happening between them was something different.
Placing the plates and silverware on the bar she sat down next to Helen, reached out and touched Helen’s knee. It was a welcome touch and Helen’s eyes came back from their distance to find Mawer. The Antiphon - ‘Caritas habundat in omina’ came through the speakers. Sierra didn’t know much Latin, but she knew this translation: ‘love overflows into all things’.
Helen knew the translation too and she covered Mawer’s hand with her own before Sierra could pull it away. “What do you miss?” She asked, letting go of the despondency, refusing to brood any longer on what was past.
“The cold,” Sierra said immediately, her eyes turning upward as if she could see outside through the layers of concrete, “I miss the bite of the winter wind, and the tingle in your cheeks as you come inside with your face scrubbed raw by the cold and wind and snow. The very real sense that if you were not careful, it could kill you right where you stood, without violence, or thought, and hold you there frozen until the season changed again. In its own way, the cold made live worth living.”
Helen’s lips brushed hers and Sierra could feel Helen’s rising desire mingling with her own. “See,” Helen whispered, “I knew beneath all that shyness, there beats the heart of a poet.”
Sierra’s breath caught and her eyes fluttered shut. She leaned forward and caught Helen’s lips again. They were soft yet strong, firm yet yielding, like the woman herself. Helen felt Sierra let go of her hand, then fingers brushing her hair back and resting at her neck. Sierra shifted and rose, stepping forward to stand between Helen’s knees. Helen deepened the kiss, wrapping her arms around Mawer’s shoulders and tightening her thighs around Mawer’s hips. She explored further with her tongue when Sierra moaned into her.
Craving, both her own and Helen’s flooded Sierra’s mind blocking out everything else. She had forgotten this, the sweet focus that having her mind consumed by a lover’s brought. All the other lights in her mind representing other people in the facility blinked out and it was only the two of them. Then the balance tipped and her muscles tensed, “Helen,” She whispered, her voice husky, she struggled to find cognizant thought in the whirling press of emotions. “Helen,” she said again breathless, “I’m overwhelmed - I’m helpless here.”
Helen pressed her forehead to Sierra’s and took a deep breath, stilling her own mind. “Better?”
Sierra’s breathing slowed; she swallowed and nodded, “Yeah.” She looked into Helen’s eyes, “You are unlike anyone I’ve ever met.”
She took a moment to disentangle her mind from Helen’s, grounding herself by concentrating on her own body. Helen’s legs were wrapped around her hips, she could feel each finger gripping her back and hair, and the feel of Helen’s lips on her own lingering. Then she sensed Helen’s feelings: want, lust, tenderness, playfulness, and beneath it all, a smoldering desire for life, stronger than she had ever felt. That desire was the same as her own and the depth of will and substance within this woman was unfathomable. That sheer depth of being was the culprit threatening to swamp the boatful of skills she had to deal with her ability. She had never felt this vulnerable.
Helen’s gentle nature prevailed over her hormones immediately. She looked over and her eyes rested on the piano, she had an idea, “We shall eat, we’ll talk, and we’ll keep taking things a step at a time so you can acclimate.”
“Ok,” Sierra said and nodded. Helen unwrapped herself from Sierra who pulled her barstool closer and sat, her leg still touching Helen’s.
They ate and talked about everything and nothing. Helen told Sierra stories of her adventures finding and harboring rare beings. Sierra found stories from her own work that made Helen laugh.
“And in the end, he left here looking completely normal except for one long feather that would not stop sprouting from the top of his head,” Sierra chuckled.
Helen couldn’t stop the giggles, her eyes teared up and she gasped for air. “The things people will do for love,” she finally managed, “Did you ever determine which species of bird the feathers were from?”
“I’m pretty sure it was a pheasant, one of those long tail feathers kept growing back,” she indicated a good three feet of space between upraised fingers, “I understand she took him back, so maybe it did the same thing for him the plumage does for the birds,” She theorized, “Anyway, he sent me a picture once. He’d grown his hair long and gathered it in a topknot around the feather. He just looked like any other free spirit that way.” Sierra smiled at the memory. So few cases were mild enough to become success stories these days.
Helen caught her breath and sipped her wine, watching Mawer over the rim of her glass. She set it down, picked up a cherry tomato and offered it to Sierra. The woman opened her mouth and accepted the fruit, capturing Helen’s fingers gently between her teeth and licking the sauce from her fingertips. Helen then brushed a few wisps of blond hair out of Sierra’s eyes. “You need a haircut youngling.”
“Youngling yourself,” Sierra murmured taking Helen’s hand and holding it to her cheek, watching her eyes, “I’m six years older than you.”
Helen blew out a dismissive breath and added, “Trifles.”
“Trifles or not, can’t hide from the truth,” Sierra said. “When you were 20 I was 26 and already pressed into service at Warehouse 12.” She pointed out.
Helen’s lip twitched as she searched the face before her. She couldn’t remember, not even after recently finding her father, the last time she felt young with someone. There was a comfort in being with someone who knew the 1800’s were more than just a chapter in a history book no one seemed to read anymore. Mawer also understood the joys and pains of having lived twice the usual human lifespan. Helen was not alarmed by the connection she felt to Mawer, but the depth of that connection did surprise her. In any case, Mawer was company she wished to keep, come what may. She nodded over at the piano, “Play a song for me,” she said.
Mawer hesitated. She’d only sung for others at church over a hundred years ago and had never played the piano for anyone.
She stood, walked over to the piano, sat back down and said, “I’m not very good I’m afraid. I leave Rachmaninoff to the virtuosi, but…” She paused, decided, and began to play a simple tune with a walking bass line - then she began to sing:
Have you ever fed a lover, with just your hands?
Closed your eyes and trusted,
just trusted?
Have you ever thrown a fistful of glitter in the air?
Have you ever looked fear in the face and said, “I just don’t care?”
Sierra’s voice rose in clear strong tones. Helen had heard the tune before in Will’s office. It was ‘Glitter in the Air’ by Pink, such a remarkable young woman. She mischievously pushed Sierra over and sat next to her, plunking out another melody entirely. Pretending to ignore her, but watching her from the corner of her eye, Mawer soldiered on,
It’s only half past the point of no return,
The tip of the iceberg,
The sun before the burn,
The thunder before the lightening
The breath before the phrase,
Have you ever felt this way?
Helen changed distraction tactics. With the lightest touch of her fingertips she began to toy with the short blonde hairs on the back of Sierra’s neck. She smiled when Mawer cleared her throat and hit three notes out of order. Sierra turned her head to Helen as she sang,
Have you ever hated yourself, for staring at the phone?
Your whole life waiting on the ring to prove, you’re not alone.
She looked back at the keys,
Have you ever been, touched so gently you had to cry?
Have you ever invited a stranger to come inside?
Helen leaned over to ghost her lips over the shell of an ear, getting an, “Mmmmmf,” from Sierra which Helen was certain wasn’t in the lyrics,
It’s only half past, the point of oblivion
The hourglass on the table
The walk before the run
The breath before the kiss
And the fear before the flames
Have you ever felt this way?
The lyrics demanded a series of la la la’s as the music gained intensity. Mawer focused on the keys more intently.
There you are, sitting in the garden
Clutching my coffee,
Calling me sugar
You called me sugar
Shifting to straddle the bench, Helen nestled up to Sierra putting one leg over Sierra’s knee and sliding the other against her back. Kissing and sucking her neck just below the point where her blond hair fell, Helen heard Sierra’s breath hitch and the tempo slow. “No. Don’t stop,” She breathed into Sierra’s ear, “Keep playing.” Sierra wasn’t quite sure how, but she continued, unable to deny Helen’s request,
Have you ever wished for an endless night?
Sierra felt a hand on her side as Helen’s tongue drew circles where her neck and shoulder joined. The hand inched slowly to her breast and the fingers found her nipple through the fabric. Her breath left her and she was forced to whisper halfway through the next line,
Lassoed the moon and the stars and pulled that rope tight?
Helen had leaned further and was nibbling the front of her throat. Sierra felt dizzy and moaned. She took a deep trembling breath as her hands traveled over the keys, automatically repeating the phrase over and over again until Helen gave her respite by laying her head on Sierra’s shoulder and her hand on her own thigh.
Have you ever held your breath and asked yourself -
Will it ever get better than tonight?
Tonight
Helen didn’t move again until Sierra had finished. “I want to make love to you,” She whispered in Sierra’s ear, then reached up and pulled her into a searing kiss. Sierra tensed but the overbalance didn’t happen this time so she relaxed, letting herself be consumed by Helen’s will. When they pulled back Helen said, “The distraction was what you needed to adjust to the intensity.”
“Oh,” Sierra blinked and uncertainty over where they were going gripped her, “Are you sure you want to do this? We’ve only just met.”
Standing, Helen took Sierra’s hand and pulled her up too. “The longer I am alive,” Helen said, leading Sierra down the hall to the bedroom, “The less patience I have for mincing about with trivialities such as artificial rules placed on when sex is proper. Labels and lines, what others assume are suitable courtship routines should not govern what we let ourselves do.” They entered the room, Helen stopped and looked up, “This is beautiful,” she said, amazement in her voice. Again there were plants and book cases, but projected on the walls and ceiling were countless stars, creating the impression of being under a sky on a moonless night.
“It’s just some lasers and a projector, I forgot about them, they’re on a timer,” Sierra demurred, “I know it’s artificial, but I also know that people are meant to be outside. Our bodies didn’t evolve alone in the wilderness, our minds did too. I realized a long time ago that I needed to create this. This is another way I retain my humanity.”
Helen pulled Sierra into another kiss pressing her hard against the wall. Sierra’s fingers found the buttons of Helen’s top and slipped them one by one, sliding the leather off her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. Helen’s bra followed and Sierra’s shirt and bra landed beside them next. As they moved Sierra was showing another habit that disconcerted Helen. She noticed each time she touched the blonde anywhere but her back that Sierra would shift out from under her hand.
“I want you to let me touch you,” Helen whispered.
Confused, Sierra paused, “Why? I’ll feel whatever you feel. I can focus on your pleasure and feel the same.”
“But it’s not the same,” Helen reasoned, “Your body still responds to my touch, it still wants to be touched, Sierra.” Her fingertips grazed Sierra’s breast, then slowly slid around to cup it. Sierra bit her lip.
“Your body still wants,” Helen repeated holding Sierra’s gaze.
“Yes,” Sierra whispered lost in Helen’s eyes, her heart beating hard.
She rubbed her thumb over a tight nipple, “Your body still needs.”
Sierra drew in another trembling breath, “Yes,” she responded again. Helen moved her hand slowly down the length of Sierra’s torso and slid her fingers into Mawer’s jeans and over her center finding moisture and heat. Sierra gasped, her breath becoming shallow and ragged.
“So I ask again,” Helen said softly, “please let me touch you too.”
Sierra couldn’t do anything but nod and catch her breath when Helen took her hand away and lead her to the bed.
“Does anyone ever deny you anything?” Sierra asked.
“Rarely.” Helen responded with a devious grin, tugging Sierra’s jeans down so she could step out of them.
Sierra slipped the catch on Helen’s pants and they joined the rest of the clothes on the floor. She pressed Helen backward onto the bed kissing and exploring until Helen flipped her over, straddled her hips and bit her rib. Sliding her hands up Sierra’s sides Helen brought them to rest on the other woman’s breasts. She plucked and teased Sierra’s nipples while kissing her sternum. Then she slid a thigh between Sierra’s and pressed hard. Sierra arched into the touch with a groan from deep in her throat. Helen was almost as aroused by giving as she had been receiving. Almost, Sierra thought, and rolled her over again.
Helen was used to taking control, used to being the elder and more experienced one in all aspects of her life, including lovemaking. She couldn’t make that assumption here. Sierra had Helen’s arms pinned above her and was using her larger frame to hold her down. “So you have me,” Helen pressed into the taller woman, “what will you do with me?”
Sierra released her wrists one at a time and rested on her elbow. She licked her lips and studiously ran her thumb over Helen’s nipple watching her face. Then she took it and pinched until Helen felt fire and bared her teeth, but released just before it was too much. “You will it, speak it, and it’s done.” She said softly.
Helen took a sharp breath as the heat of Sierra’s mouth enveloped the peak of her other breast. “I want to touch you and be touched.” She said, barely audible, “To pleasure you as you feel the pleasure you give me.”
Sierra kissed her way back up to Helen’s lips while she shifted and let the brunette sit up against the pillows until they were facing, legs wrapped loosely around each other. Helen watched Sierra’s face for any sign of uncertainty but found none. Beginning at her ribs Helen dragged her hand down Sierra’s body until she found a small patch of fur, then slid two fingers on either side of her clit.
Sierra’s blond head dropped and she mewled, leaning her forehead against Helen’s shoulder as she herself reached forward and pressed her palm to Helen’s sex. She nibbled at Helen’s pulse point and slid inside her. Helen’s breath caught. She took a handful of hair and brought Sierra’s lips back to her mouth then mirrored her, pressing slowly inside the other woman. They both moved slowly, simultaneously together and against each other. A bead of sweat formed and lazily made its way down the side of Sierra’s cheek. Helen kissed it away and increased the tempo, feeling Sierra do the same.
Sierra strained. She felt her hand inside Helen, Helen’s fingers inside her and a palm on her clit. She felt Helen’s need rising but not yet breaking. Her heart drummed and her breaths were shallow, then she realized Helen was holding back for her. She pleaded and her voice cracked. “Let go Helen. Please let go.”
Helen clutched Sierra’s back, holding tight against her. With her hips meeting each thrust she moaned in pleasure and bit Sierra’s shoulder. A fire pulsed through her blood, as she unraveled her muscles shook. Sierra stilled and cried out, arching against her milliseconds later, then whimpered and gripped her for support, gasping for air.
Helen held her for a minute, then dropped her hip and laid her down with Sierra resting on her arm. Helen curled around her protectively. She kissed and pet Sierra’s hair as they lay recovering. When Sierra sighed and nuzzled her face into Helen’s neck, every muscle in Helen’s body relaxed. The feeling was so familiar but had been out of reach for so long.
“Helen,” Sierra whispered, “It’s no accident your name can be said in a contented sigh.”
Helen smiled, and pulled the covers down underneath them. With a little wiggling they were nestled under the duvet. This time Helen was curled up resting on Sierra’s arm as they drifted.
The Facility Series - Part 5 & Part 6