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ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
Barbara had seen Helena walk a number of different ways. Seen her confident, cock-of-the-walk Mean Girl stride morph into something darker. Seen her slink around luxuriously in the early morning, in the pajama top that didn't go all the way down and the pajama bottom that rode low on her waist (not that Barbara ever looked, of course ). Seen her prowl from rooftop to rooftop, waiting to fly down on some hapless criminal.
But she'd never seen Helena stalk. Even in the dim illumination provided by the moonlight filtering in through the windows of the Clocktower, she could tell Helena was naked, far-too-pale skin revealed by little peels of light that traipsed over her, previewing tantalizing glimpses. Her motions were graceful, her body was eloquent, outside of the bulky black clothes she hampered herself with. Bizarrely, she seemed even less naked as she padded towards Barbara, face blank.
"Helena," Barbara said softly, soothingly, as Helena's bare feet soundlessly made contact with the carpet. "Listen to me. Listen to the sound of my voice. This isn't you. You've been affected by a neurogenic compound. The metahuman side of you has taken over. Fight it."
Helena growled, bearing her teeth, her eyes going elliptical. Barbara wished for the thousandth time that she carried a tranq gun in her wheelchair. Her escrima sticks would only anger Helena, Dinah was at some school dance, Alfred had the day off, and Barbara had been about to order in when Helena had shown up through the window, naked as the day she was born.
"Please, Helena. You're not a killer. You can control this. You've done it before."
Hunching over, Helena arched her back predatorily. "Want," Helena said, her usual sarcastic monotone now heavy and laden with need. "Want bad."
"That's good, Helena, use your words. What do you want? Food?"
Helena picked up a Lil Debbie snack cake from beside the computer, ripped the packaging open and buried her face in it. Satisfied, she licked her lips. Frosting remained on her nose and mouth, a touch of absurdism on the potential killer.
"Food yummy," Helena remembered, rubbing her stomach absently.
"That's it, Helena, word associations. Focus on your mnemonics."
Helena reached forward and Barbara noticed her breasts swaying with the motion. A mosaic of scars covered her upper body. Barbara could remember caring for and dressing each one. The last faint yellowing of an old bruise tugged at her stomach, traces lingering below her hipbone. Someone had sucker-punched her. The Huntress took a lock of Barbara's red hair and rubbed it behind her fingers, fascinated with the color.
"Yummy," Helena repeated, her hand roaming downwards over Barbara's chest.
"Helena, please we both know I don't feel this way about you. We went over this a long time ago. We agreed."
"Smells false," Helena growled, right next to Barbara's face, all concept of personal space gone. "Lying remember you lying."
"You were a child," Barbara insisted, a bit hyperbolically.
"Not anymore," Helena said. God, how long had she been nursing this crush? Barbara thought she had moved on, thought she was
So cute with a little bit of frosting still stuck on the tip of her nose and what was wrong with Barbara, 100% hetero girl that she was thinking of her ward as sexy? She had raised Helena, never even considered the possibility of them being close until now, anyway, since impressionable young Helena with a crush was easy to dismiss, but fully-grown and filled out in all the right places Helena was a different story. And the stare, that damn cat's eye stare was really unnerving.
Barbara leaned forward and licked the frosting off Helena's face. Helena reared back, her expression absolutely priceless, and Barbara just had to laugh. Helena fingered some of the frosting from Barbara's lips and took a hit; she laughed too, her cackle all Helena, so human for a moment that Barbara forgot her new-weird-place ward/apprentice/partner/potential sex partner was high on animal mojo
Until Helena bit her.
Barbara had a frenzied recollection of Helena's teeth flashing pearly white in the dim moonlight before pulling forward with uncanny speed, burying themselves in her neck and a burst of pain so acute that she was sure Helena had broken the skin, she raised her hand to the wound and felt blood welling up between her fingers, then saw Helena pulling away, licking her lips with a mischievous look on her face, like she used to get when Barbara caught her messing around with things that had a Bat-prefix.
Barbara really wished she hadn't watched that nature documentary last night, because she had a very uncomfortable idea where this was going.
"Yummy," Helena said for the third time before grabbing Barbara and throwing her to the carpet.
Barbara went down in a tangle, sure she had bruised something, when Helena pounced on her, eyes dark, teeth bared, hands ripping at Barbara's clothes, trying to figure out how to extract Barbara from the strange things, and Barbara had some vague idea that she really shouldn't be wondering whether to help her or try to fight her off.
Barbara probably also shouldn't have been so aroused by the smell of her own blood, or so relieved that at some point she had stopped thinking of Helena as skinny-little Helena and started thinking of her as I'm-about-to-have-sex-with Helena, and God, did this mean they were going to start dating or that they were going to stop having their partnership, because they couldn't well go back to "Huntress, go beat up this week's villain using science and also let's not talk about the time you fucked me and I was starting to get into it, oh God, what was wrong with me, I can't keep my thoughts straight and somehow you've gotten fingers down where there hasn't been anything for so long and what if someone sees us, Dinah could walk in, I shouldn't be enjoying this so much, don't stop, I could help you "
And if Barbara noticed that Helena's grin was widening as she undid her belt for Helena well, maybe there were times when remembering every single detail had its benefits. Because now she would never be able to think of skinny-little Helena without that memory being obliterated by about-to-fuck-me Helena and though Barbara knew that really, she hadn't been psychologically super-healthy since she decided jumping off rooftops in a Bat-suit was a good idea, it was probably a good deal healthier for her that there had been a paradigm shift in just about everything, come to think of it.
At least the computers wouldn't change.
Helena finally managed to rip open Barbara's blouse, went wild with her teeth, and finally found her way down between Barbara's legs. It cost Barbara some of her favorite boxers, but Helena's tongue was heavenly and then suddenly there were teeth and instead of touching her Helena was just blowing on her, making Barbara cry out. Then Barbara was turned over, pressed belly-flat against the ground, and Helena began rutting against her ass like an animal in heat as Barbara tried to rub her core against the carpet, get some pleasure out of it
"Fucking!" Helena cried out in glee before turning Barbara back over, like a puzzle piece she didn't know where to put, and Barbara guided Helena against her body and pretty soon they had a nice rhythm set up and Helena heard all sorts of words she didn't understand, like "Oh God, it feels so good!" and "Yes, more, yes!" and "I love you!"
But all that mattered was that soon something sticky and sickly sweat leaked out from between Barbara's legs and Helena eagerly lapped it up. Barbara cooed, the tattered remains of her blouse the only thing clinging to her body, and made a pillow out of her arms. When Helena got up to leave, Barbara grabbed her by the hand and pulled her down.
"Stay with me," Barbara said, rubbing Helena's back. "Please."
Helena made an odd little noise in her throat and laid down, even though she wasn't tired. Barbara-with-the-red-hair sang her a pretty song and she felt her eyelids growing heavy and she wasn't tired, really wasn't tired, but she awoke to a sharp pain in her flank and when she saw her mate, Barbara-with-the-red-hair had a pointy thing in her hand and was apologizing so profusely
Helena woke up in her own bed, sore in a dozen places and wearing that nightgown Barbara had bought for her but that she never wore. She was always more comfortable sleeping in the nude on top of the sheets and the expression on Barbara's face when she entered the room without knocking or with knocking or
Helena groaned and sat up. Barbara was next to her, holding a tray of food. Toaster strudels with jam filling. Her favorite.
"How are you feeling, Helena?" Barbara asked, concerned, as Helena dug in.
"Like I just went fifteen rounds with a gorilla. I assume you cured me of that weird gas "
"Like I said, weird gas. You did fix me, right?"
"Well, the fact that we're talking is a bit of a clue."
Helena nodded. That made sense. "Why am I wearing this? What did I do last night?"
Barbara looked away for a moment, something very fragile and mournful in her expression. "You've got a little something "
Helena touched her nose. There was a bit of jam stuck there. Before she could wipe it off, Barbara leaned forward and licked it away. Helena stared at Barbara as the redhead licked her lips with a "yeah, what are you going to do about it?" set to her jaw.
"Barbara, what did I do last night?"
"Let's just say," Barbara said as she left Helena alone with her jam, "that you were a real animal in the sack."
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