DISCLAIMER: The characters herein are used without permission. No infringement intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is for theholyinnocent, who won the dubious honor of being my 3000th Tweet. I asked her what crappy reward she wanted, and she said I could write her a W13 fic. This is it. It exists entirely in its own universe.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
FEEDBACK: To Fewthistle[at]aol.com
Doing Inventory
By Fewthistle
"Is that what I think it is?" Myka asked, peering at an artifact on the bottom shelf in the area of the warehouse Pete had labeled, 'The North Forty'.
Helena leaned over her shoulder, her breasts pressing against Myka's back, her breath a warm tickle along Myka's cheek. "Yes, I believe it is." Helena replied, making no effort to move away, her hands resting easily on Myka's waist.
Trying to ignore the distracting sensation of Helena's slender form molding seamlessly to her own, Myka inquired, her voice remarkably normal, "What do you think it's made of?"
Helena gave a contemplative sigh, the release of air pressing her a little closer to Myka's back. "Bone, I imagine. Whale bone or perhaps even elephant ivory. Clearly someone took a great deal of care in crafting it. Look at the shape and the smoothness of the texture."
"How did it fit…on?" Myka mumbled, unable to control the betrayal of her own body as her hips, seemingly of their own volition, pushed back against Helena.
"I'm fairly certain that there would have been some sort of harness to which it attached. See at the top, the groove marks where some sort of strap wrapped around it?" Helena pointed out calmly, her lips just brushing along the outer shell of Myka's ear.
"As huge as that is and, you know, given that it's bone, it must have been pretty hard to walk around with," Myka stammered, tilting her head to the side as Helena's lips ghosted along the line of her throat.
Helena chuckled, the sound vibrating inside Myka like the bass notes in Claudia's favorite music. "I doubt that there was a great deal of walking involved. More like hobbling. In fact, one probably spent a tremendous amount of time bent over, holding it in place."
Helena's hands had begun to wander from their previous position on Myka's hips, one slipping northward to cup a supple breast, the nipple growing hard against her palm. The other took a more southerly route, sliding under the waistband of Myka's jeans, and trailing down beneath the layer of silk and lace, the tips of her fingers teasing through short curls.
Myka moaned softly, her head lolling back to rest on Helena's shoulder, her hips shifting forward to meet Helena's questing fingers. Helena's mouth moved along the slender column of Myka's throat, a series of nips and soft kisses that spelled out her desire in a lover's Morse code, while her hands kept up their singular activities, cupping, caressing, teasing, two fingers sliding deep inside.
Myka tried to formulate at least one coherent thought and failed miserably as the inventory pad she held in her hand clattered to the hard cement of the warehouse floor.
"Pity the harness is missing," Helena chuckled teasingly, her breathing growing labored as she bent Myka forward, her arm flexing rhythmically. "I'd be tempted to try it out."
"Helena!!" Myka protested breathily, leaning to grab hold of the shelf in front of her as Helena's fingers found their mark. "Do not even think about it!"
Helena laughed again, this time a full-throated chortle that echoed off the surrounding shelves. "Darling, now where's your sense of adventure?"
Myka's reply was cut short as Helena slipped another finger inside her, the heel of her hand now pressed firmly against Myka's clit. Myka's hips jerked forward, their rhythm now punctuated with moans and gasps of steadily increasing volume, culminating in a cry that Helena was quite certain could be heard in half the warehouse.
As Myka slumped forward, Helena caught her, pulling her upright and flush against her own body, one arm wrapped firmly around her waist. "I wonder if the harness is around here somewhere," Helena mused, the laughter in her voice quite evident.
"If you mention that harness one more time, Helena Wells… the next time….we have to do inventory…you get stuck with Pete," Myka threatened, trying to slow her pulse and catch her breath.
"I merely wanted to see if I could walk in it, darling," Helena assured her laughingly, sliding her fingers out carefully and slipping her hand from the warmth of Myka's pants.
Myka turned to face her, the attempt at menacing glare completely canceled out by the flush of afterglow that stained her cheeks pink and left a soft radiance in her green eyes. She couldn't seem to stop it as her lips turned up in an answering grin to the one gracing Helena's gorgeous face. "At least we can tell Artie that we located Francois le Clerc's prosthetic leg."
"What's next on the list?" Helena asked, dipping her head forward to capture Myka's lips in a slow, sweet kiss. They both wore a glazed look as they parted. "All right then. Um, yes. The list?"
Myka stepped out of the circle of Helena's arms and retrieved the fallen clipboard. As she straightened and glanced at the next item on the temporarily misplaced artifact list, she groaned, "Dammit."
"What is it, darling?" Helena queried, a mischievous glint in her dark eyes.
Myka glanced at her suspiciously before replying. "I don't want to hear a word. Not one innuendo, not one suggestive remark. Nothing, do you understand me, Helena?"
"Why, my love, what are you talking about?" Helena asked, her voice and expression as innocent as a lamb. "What in the world is it?"
"Catherine the Great's saddle," Myka mumbled, turning and starting back down the long aisle.
"What was that, darling? I'm afraid I couldn't quite make that out." Helena smirked, following happily along behind her lover, hands swinging playfully by her sides.
"You heard me just fine. Catherine the Great's saddle. Not one word, Helena. Not one word." Myka accused, swinging around to walk backwards for a few steps before turning and stalking off down the wide row of shelves, Helena rich chuckle trailing behind her like a train.
"I wouldn't dream of it, my sweet. Not a word." Helena laughed, a wicked glint in her eyes as she contemplated what powers might be held in gold and jewels and soft Russian leather.
The End