FANDOM: Birds of Prey Comic-Verse
RATING: Oh, um, is there such a rating as PG-15
DISCLAIMER: These characters and situations do not belong to me in any way, shape, or form. I have borrowed them as part of my sanity maintenance.
SUMMARY: Barbara can't quite make out the words…
THANKS: As always, to darandkerry for the beta work.
FICATHON: BoP-Challenges - 12Days.
Prompt/Word Count: 11. Pick On Me Day! - 819 words.
Oracle, who saw everything, watched intently as her partner strolled out of the bathroom and made her way to the foot of their bed. She was brazenly wearing the clothes she'd been born in, and Barbara knew without any doubt, Huntress costume included, that these were the most gorgeous clothes her lover possessed.
Nakedness did everything for Helena Betinelli and, right now, Barbara could only hope would do everything for her, too.
The heat in Helena's intent gaze answered her hope immediately. As Helena reached the bed, Barbara held her breath in anticipation; she was going to enjoy this, she could tell. And yet, disappointment struck as Helena just wandered on passed, back into the lounge.
Barbara strained for the sounds of Helena's activity, desperate to know what was keeping her so long, what was keeping her from Barbara.
From nowhere came the sound of beautifully played guitar chords and a soft, gentle voice that Barbara had never really heard before. It was Helena's voice alright, but the softness and the melody were new, haunting. Here was a skill even Oracle knew nothing off, nearly a year together and still she learned more each day.
As always, Barbara thought of Helena teaching, and envied Helena's students; envied their regular seeing of the softer side she only ever saw glimpses of; more and more now, but only ever glimpses.
She listened hard to the tune, knowing she'd heard it many times before, not quite able to put a name to its lyrics. Helena wandered back through, no longer singing, but strumming gently, so carefully across the guitar's strings.
This time, at the foot of the bed, she quite deliberately placed the guitar to one side and crawled up the bed towards Barbara. Reaching sideways, she held out a silk scarf to her lover and closed her eyes in invitation. Barbara's breath hitched, but she calmly took the hint, lifting her head so that Helena could cover her eyes.
Helena climbed off the bed and then leaned over to blow softly in her lover's ear as she whispered how Barbara was going to so enjoy her turn at being played.
Barbara was already shivering with feeling when she felt the barest hint of something small and hard drawn down the length of her torso. The hard edge scraped teasingly over her bare nipples, and they hardened immediately.
Slowly, carefully, Helena mapped out Barbara's upper body, caressing the length of her arms, stroking each finger individually, and planting a gentle kiss to each fingertip before stroking back up towards her neck.
The feelings were so immense the redhead couldn't decipher just what was playing her body with such deliciousness. After what could only have been minutes, Helena climbed back onto the bed, placing one knee on either side of Barbara's trunk and resting her weight carefully, but firmly, on her chest.
Four words were whispered into the silence of the room.
"Do you trust me?"
Barbara couldn't answer but reached up to caress her lover's face, surprised to feel that Helena was positioned facing her feet. Caressing the silky hair instead, she murmured her assent.
Once more, Helena's voice began to sing; the words clearer but not clearer. Every so often, a word caught Barbara's ear, and she smiled. As Helena stroked nearer and nearer to the point when Barbara knew she would no longer feel a thing, the words grew firmer.
"Your body is a wonderland, your body is a wonder, I'll use my hands."
Barbara smiled again, there was no way it was Helena's hands that were touching her so gently but so keenly. It felt like a sharp edge but not a sharp edge. Tonight, there were so many contradictions, Barbara was lost. Whatever it was though, she knew without a doubt it was wringing its own pleasure from deep within.
As always, Helena knew exactly when Barbara's sensation of touch disappeared, and as always, she enhanced her touch with her words. Her voice slowed from the gentle crooning into dreamy, soothing, erotically spoken words.
The story of Helena's loving brought life to Barbara's sex.
At times like this, Barbara was ashamed to admit she often resorted to clichés. Tonight, as Helena played her thoroughly and carefully, her spoken words slowly drawing the path to Barbara's very centre and outwards, was such a time. All she could think was that she'd be just as happy to listen to Helena read the telephone directory; and yet, she knew damn well that no telephone directory could ever hold the words that ripped a groan of ecstasy from deep within her.
With great care, Helena climbed off the bed, removed the scarf, and then kissed Barbara soundly. Walking backwards, her eyes never leaving Barbara's, Helena reached for her guitar, and once more, sang her chosen song.
Lulled into a satiated sleep, Barbara's last sight was Helena kissing the small guitar pick reverently.
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