DISCLAIMER: Warehouse 13 and its characters are the property of the SyFy Channel. No infringement intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks for amazing Debbie for the beta.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
FEEDBACK: To darandkerry[at]yahoo.com

Going Undercover
By Ann


Myka Bering had died and gone to heaven once already and was well on her way for a repeat visit. Her first trip of the evening had been fast and furious, and even though she hadn't gotten the chance to truly admire the scenery, she'd thoroughly enjoyed the intense ride. Taking the slower route was proving to be quite enjoyable, too; however, she now found herself with a growing problem. Her mind had had time to catch up with her overloaded senses and simply would not stop looking back in the rearview mirror.

"Helena," she moaned softly, forcing herself to open her eyes and look down past floral sheets at a head of dark, silky hair bobbing slightly underneath. A light flick across the top of a swollen nipple almost made her lose her thought… almost. "How do you think Artie knew about the bomb Sykes had planted under the seat of his wheelchair?" she managed to ask, rather proud that she had sounded coherent despite the fact that she had a naked H. G. Wells hovering above her and using that sharp tongue for something other than their usual stimulating conversation.

Helena covered the hard nub with her mouth and began to suck lightly. "I have no idea," she mumbled unintelligibly, hoping that her actions would cause Myka to forget all about Artie. Two hands gently clasped her cheeks and Helena groaned. She should've known better. When something had a hold on Myka's mind, nothing could distract her. Not sex, not Twizzlers, and not even sex with Twizzlers.

"Helena," Myka said breathlessly as she pressed her shoulders hard against the headboard. Taking in a lungful of air, she reluctantly lifted her lover's head from its comfortable nesting spot. A loud popping sound was closely followed by a pair of dark eyes peering into her soul. Myka's breath caught and she struggled to focus. "Artie… the bomb," she whispered, more as a reminder to herself than to her lover.

"I don't know how he knew, Myka," Helena answered sharply, frustration clearly coloring her tone. Even though Artie had been acting more civil toward her, she certainly didn't want him in her bed! She watched as hurt began to show in Myka's eyes, and she hurried to come up with a plausible explanation for the appearance of Artie's sudden ESP abilities. "Didn't Artie have something in his hand when he came around the corner and found us?" Her focus had been on the rope that had bound her and Myka, but Helena did recall Artie holding something brass, something roundish in shape.

Myka frowned. She hadn't noticed anything and she was supposed to be the queen of observation. She wondered briefly if having Helena wrapped around her – literally – had thrown her off her game. "What was it?"

Helena lifted her head higher, dislodging the sheet and revealing creamy shoulders and full breasts. Myka swallowed hard and moved her gaze to Helena's face. Lips quirked into a semi-smirk, but Helena continued to placate her lover. She shrugged. "I'm not really certain. It did appear to have a series of holes evenly spaced around its center." Artie had jerked the metal object out of view so fast Helena hadn't had time to study it further.

"An artifact?" Myka asked curiously, her focus fully back on Artie. She kept her eyes above Helena's nose, just in case. "You think he used an artifact to predict the future?" she asked, apparently rhetorically as she didn't give Helena time to form a reply before she shot off more questions. "Why would he do that? Why would he suspect that Sykes planned to destroy the Warehouse? There wasn't any indication that he was after anything except Collodi's bracelet."

The barrage of questions made Helena's head spin, and if she had her way, she'd prefer it to be spinning for a completely different reason. There'd been enough talk of Artie and his strange behavior as far as Helena was concerned. It was time to get creative. Easing a hand to Myka's breast, she ran a thumb over a very neglected nipple. "I have no idea what goes on in Artie's head," Helena answered. Thank God, she thought gratefully. Being inside Arthur Nielsen's head would be downright scary. Besides, it wasn't Artie's head she wanted to be inside of at the moment. Her thumb became more active.

Myka's breath hitched and she shifted her position. "Okay, so how did he know to use Mahatma Gandhi's dhoti to diffuse the bomb?" Her body and its overloaded senses were quickly gaining on her mind.

Helena smiled. She had Myka now. "He didn't exactly know how to use it, remember?" she asked teasingly. She moved her index finger into play and began to gently roll the hard nub. With Myka, it was a bit like playing chess. Strategic moves always caught her attention.

"True," Myka said, her tone rising sharply. Her skin began to flush, and she suddenly felt very warm. A warm mouth surrounded her other nipple and her thoughts began to unravel. "Um," she mumbled, her thoughts racing past so fast she couldn't catch a single one. Flick, roll, flick, roll… She reached out blindly and grabbed hold of the most important question of all, one that would definitely catch Helena's attention and one that would take hours and hours of discussion. Just why had Artie pleaded Helena's case to the Regents?

With every fiber of her being screaming at her to stop, Myka slowly reached down to cup her lover's cheeks, but Helena was ready for her this time. A hard roll followed by a particularly wicked twirl of a tongue, and Myka's hands stopped short of their target, landing instead on top of her lover's head, forcing Helena lower.


Some things could wait for later.

Myka could not.

The End

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