68. Bertram #2
He hadn’t pierced her skin—using his vampiric top fangs on her felt like a little too much too soon, even if it had been her favorite kink historically for his top teeth to pierce her skin—that felt like a little too much too soon.
He’d do it at some point, probably, and based on the moan he elicited, she was looking forward to it.
“I don’t want to rush you into anything,” Helena said as she undid the button of his pants. “If you’d prefer to take it slow, that’s fine—”
“No,” Bertram growled.
“Whatever you need,” Helena assured him, unzipping his pants, “but in an ideal world, I would like you inside me as soon as possible and for you to just rail the absolute hell out of me.”
Bertram smiled. “On many levels we live in a far from ideal world. But on this one matter, I think we can make that happen.”
Bertram pulled Helena’s pants down in one swift motion, and she grabbed onto his shoulders for support as he cupped her between her legs.
“I’ve wanted you for days,” Helena panted.
“I’ve wanted you for weeks,” Bertram countered.
“I’ve wanted you for years,” said Helena, and that was the end of it. She won. Because somehow, miraculously, Bertram had once upon a time forced himself to stop wanting Helena.
He couldn’t remember how, though, and he feared he would never manage such a feat again. Especially now that she was fully naked—he couldn’t remember whether in the flurry of movements he had removed her final garments or she had, but either way, he couldn’t stop staring.
It was Helena who stripped him of his underwear, though; he had just enough presence of mind to be aware of that as he joined in her in her nudity.
“I want you inside me,” Helena panted. “Now. Please, Bertram.”
There was the tiniest hint of a whine in Helena’s voice, and Bertram thought he had never heard anything as sexy as her desperation. Her desperation for him.
“I don’t think so,” Bertram said.
“Please.”
Fuck. He didn’t think he could get any harder, but that one little word did it for him—every time.
Based on the twinkle in her eye, Helena had remembered this as well as Bertram did.
“I don’t know when the last time your marquess lover snuck into camp,” Bertram said, bringing his hand back between her legs, “or if he’s as well-endowed as I am—”
“Who cares?” Helena mumbled, rocking against his hand.
“Your body will.” Bertram kissed her nose almost apologetically.
“My body will get over it,” Helena grumbled, and reached for him, but Bertram grabbed her hand deftly.
Bertram tsked. “Impatience is a terrible quality in a field researcher.”
“Oh. Actually. Speaking of which”—Helena blinked and looked around the lab, as though just now realizing where they were—“um, continuing in this direction—and believe me, this is the direction I would like to continue in—feels like it should require maybe adjourning to not a shared workspace? I don’t want to defile the sanctity of the lab. ”
Bertram shook his head. “See? This is the kind of error a field researcher makes when they are impatient.”
They hastily put their clothes back on, not bothering with snow gear, or with underwear for that matter. Somehow, Helena seemed to find it more embarrassing to put her clothes on than take them off.
“This feels a little anticlimactic,” Helena mumbled, blushing as she trudged out into the brisk air, haphazardly dressed.
“I’ll fix that in a moment, sweetheart, I promise.” Bertram took Helena’s hand and intertwined their fingers before kissing the back of her hand.
She blushed even more deeply.
They hurried to Bertram’s tent, rushing through the cold before the fact that they hadn’t fully re-dressed could catch up to them, and then set about stripping naked again. Helena laughed at their ridiculousness, blushing and unable to meet Bertram’s eye.
The smile on her face was strangely shy as she looked away from him, and her sudden timidness was both confusing and endearing to Bertram.
Without even looking at him, Helena began to undo Bertram’s pants, and reached for him again—
“Hang on a second, woman,” Bertram said, his voice mixed with amusement and exasperation. “You first.”
Helena bit her lip. “No, I just want to—I just want to get to the main thing.”
“This is the main thing.”
Helena shook her head. “No, it’s not—”
“Being with you is the main thing,” Bertram said, gently.
“But—I just . . . it’s been so long. I’ve wanted you for so long.”
“All the more reason to take our time,” Bertram said.
Helena shook her head again, searching for words. “No, because—because we need to do it now so that, so we can . . . before . . .”
“Helena.” Bertram frowned. “Do you think there’s any way I’m going to change my mind about having sex with you between getting your clothes off and getting the opportunity to be inside you, no matter how long that interval lasts?”
Helena blushed. “I don’t know.”
“If you don’t change your mind, I’m not changing my mind,” Bertram assured her. “So just, give me a second, if you would.”
Helena pouted and looked adorable doing so.
Bertram took her face gently in his hands.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, softly. “I’m here with you. Just be with me. And let me be with you.”
Helena nodded. Bertram took a deep breath in and out, indicating with his hand that Helena should do the same. She obeyed, and he led her over to his slightly-less-than-comfortable bed.
“I will admit the setting could be more romantic,” Bertram said.
“It’s perfect,” Helena said at once. “You’re here, so it’s perfect.”
He kissed her deeply—more slowly this time, trusting her to trust him.
“Can we just—” Helena started.
“The more trouble you give me, the longer I’m going to draw this out,” Bertram said.
Helena went still.
“Good. Thank you.”
He kissed her on the forehead.
Then he got to work on her body in earnest, and from the little whimpers she was making as he touched her with his fingers, with his tongue, he was cautiously optimistic that she would consider the time he made her wait worthwhile.
He had two fingers inside her when she shuddered and gasped beneath him.
“There! Are you happy?” Helena asked.
Bertram laughed, startled. “I’ve never heard someone sound so angry about an orgasm.”
“I’m not angry!” Helena blushed. “I just, I want you.”
“This is me,” Bertram said. “All of this is me.”
“Don’t be sentimental when I’m trying to be filthy,” Helena mumbled.
“Don’t be filthy when I’m trying to be sentimental,” Bertram countered.
Bertram brushed a piece of hair off Helena’s already sweaty forehead, and she leaned forward and kissed him deeply.
He took her breasts in his hands, enjoying the feel of them.
He had missed her breasts. He remembered she once complained about their slightly different sizes and Bertram told her the story of AghrhgA, the orcish two-fold god of symmetry who forbids anything but themselves from being identical.
Bertram assured her that this meant her breasts were not only perfect—they were divine.
He wondered if she remembered that.
“Now can I be filthy?” Helena asked.
“If you insist,” Bertram said, with as much faux martyrdom as he could muster.
Then Helena was straddling him, lowering herself onto his length, and there was no more room in his mind for faux anything.
There was only the profound bliss of being inside Helena, of her searing eyes locked onto his, of the little shuddering gasps she made as she sank down further and further onto him, until he was fully seated within her.
“Fuck,” Helena hissed.
Bertram closed his eyes and tipped his head back as she began to move, and he soon felt her lips on his Adam’s apple, kissing down his neck, his collarbones as Helena slowly started lowering herself up and down on him.
By the end, his fingers were digging into her waist and ass so tightly that he was worried she was going to have bruises with his fingerprints, but she didn’t seem to mind.
She worked with him to meet his every thrust as he moved ever faster within her, ever harder, until finally he too reached his climax and collapsed back on the bed, Helena falling forward with him and on top of him.
“Can you believe we could have been doing that this whole time?” Helena whispered.
“No,” Bertram said, sincerely. “There’s no universe in which Lovey would have given you that much alone time in the first few weeks after hatching. It’s a miracle we even had this long to ourselves.”
Helena laughed and buried her face in Bertram’s chest, and he could feel her smile against his skin.
“I still think you made a terrible argument about subspecies,” Helena said.
“I think I should make terrible arguments more often,” Bertram said.
Helena shook her head. “And that’s why you have to be careful what behavior you inadvertently reinforce.”
But apparently she wasn’t too concerned with this, because she kissed Bertram again. And again.
And again.