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Mark and Helena stumble through the bedroom door in a flurry of laughter, faces flushed from the late-October evening chill.
“You could’ve warned me,” Mark says lightly. “God, it’s still going.” He swirls his tongue around in his mouth in an effort to make the popping candy dissolve faster.
Helena chuckles. “I wanted it to be a surprise. Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon.”
She smiles to herself as she drops her bag on the chair and her black pointed hat on the desk. Mark drapes his black and red cape over back of the chair, leaving him in the white ruffled shirt and black pants he wore underneath it. Then he comes up behind her and wraps his arms around her waist, pressing a kiss to her temple.
Helena hums contentedly, but finds herself unable to fully relax. She turns in his arms and looks into his eyes. “I’m sorry about tonight.”
Confusion crosses his features. “What?”
“The haunted house,” she says plainly. “I know you and Helly were looking forward to going together.”
Mark and Helly had been halfway there when she switched, and Helena woke up in an outfit she’d never put on, on her way to plans she’d never made. It wasn’t the first time that had happened since she and Mark underwent the reintegration procedure over a month ago—while it’s relatively safe now, the journey to being fully reintegrated remains disruptive and unpredictable. It can be frustrating, but all four of them have come to accept it as part of the deal.
And yet she can’t help feeling like she’s stolen something from Helly today. What makes it worse is the fact that Helena hadn’t been interested in going in the first place, and everyone knew it. She’d always thought of these types of events as innie domain—Mark and Helly could have their fun, but they weren’t necessarily things she’d indulge in herself.
Mark strokes her waist over the black lacy fabric of her dress. “Well yeah, but we knew it might not work out that way. Remember when you and Mark booked tickets for that exclusive movie screening and Helly and I ended up going instead? Man, he was so pissed…” He must notice the way she’s worrying her lip; he brings a hand up to cup her cheek and brushes her skin with his thumb. “But I think Helly will be okay. She’s a lot nicer than him.”
A joke at his outie’s expense, but where there would once be vitriol, Helena finds none. She laughs quietly.
“And it’s not your fault at all,” he continues. “So you’re good. Okay?”
She nods. “Okay.”
He kisses her forehead softly, and something in her stills.
He pulls back but stays close, resting his hand on her waist again. “Besides, it was your first time at a haunted house too.”
She chuckles. “And my last.”
“Too scary?”
“You’re joking. I wasn’t scared.” A smile plays on her lips. “Unlike someone I know.”
“I was not scared.”
“You reached for my hand on four separate occasions.”
“A man can’t want to hold his girlfriend’s hand?”
“He can. He can also admit he was scared.”
Mark acquiesces. “Fine, I was a little scared. But did you see those masks?“ His face contorts at the memory.
“Oh, I saw them.” An idea pops into her head. She can pull it off, she thinks. A little trick of her own. “In fact, I thought they were kinda hot.” She trails her fingers down his arm. “Where do you think they got them from? Maybe we can…” She bites her lip, looking up at him through her eyelashes.
Mark looks panicked. He’s silent, then: “Helena, you know I—”
A laugh escapes her before she can torture him further. “I’m kidding.”
Relief floods his features. “Thank God,” he breathes out. “That wasn’t funny.” Still, a smile creeps onto his lips.
“I’m touched that you took that so seriously.”
“I mean… yeah? I wanna give you everything you want.”
Helena beams. He always says these things so casually. The sweetest, most thoughtful words anyone has ever spoken to her, delivered in the same tone he uses to ask her what she wants for lunch. Loving openly comes easily to him; he doesn’t know any other way.
“So you would’ve done it?” she teases.
“Absolutely not. Sorry, baby. I was going to let you down easy.”
“Mm. That’s okay, honey.” She snakes her arms around his neck and gives him a quick peck, then rests her forehead against his.
“You had fun though? At the haunted house?” It’s the second time he’s asked her that.
“I did,” Helena says sincerely. The haunted house didn’t scare her. It was ridiculous, tacky, and a bit of a rip-off. But she had a great time. Mostly because Mark was with her, sure, but she can’t deny there was an odd charm to the house itself. “It was shit, but in a good way?”
“Yeah.” He squeezes her waist. “Well, that’s all that matters.”
There he goes again, saying the most considerate things so ordinarily. Like it’s just a fact of life that if Helena is happy, if he can make her happy, then everything is okay.
God, she loves him.
She pulls back a little, then surges forward and kisses him firmly. Mark lets out a surprised noise before melting into it, and she smiles against his mouth. When they part, he’s breathless.
“What was that for?” he asks, eyes twinkling.
“A woman can’t want to kiss her boyfriend?”
“She definitely can.” His eyes dart to her lips. “Maybe she should do it again.”
“Maybe her boyfriend should kiss her instead.”
Mark smiles at her, canines peeking out between his lips charmingly. Then he leans in. Slowly, carefully. His mouth brushes hers once, twice, before they meet in earnest, noses pressed to cheeks, softly colliding as they further their exploration. The slide of their tongues kindles the flame of desire within her, hot tendrils unfurling with the deepening of the kiss. His thumbs brush at her sides, gradually moving upward until they rest just under her chest. She brings her hands down to cover his, then guides them to caress her breasts, where he starts to tease her nipples through the fabric.
Helena gasps against his mouth. He pulls her lower lip between his teeth and bites it gently, and she groans. She fists her hands in his shirt and walks him backwards until he’s pressed the wall, slotting herself between his legs. His hardening cock juts against her middle, and when she rubs up on him, he lets out a moan, which she greedily swallows.
His hands slide down to her ass and squeeze. “Been thinking about this all night,” he murmurs, breath hot against her cheek.
“Yeah?”
“Mhm. Looks so good in this outfit.”
The dress she’s wearing is sheer, and while the skirt and sleeves drape loosely, the bodysuit underneath hugs her curves perfectly. Great choice, Helly.
Mark leaves a trail of kisses along her jaw, and she tilts her head aside as his mouth travels downward. He nips and licks at her neck before sucking on her pulse point, causing her to gasp softly and cling to him tighter, one hand coming up to hold his head in place.
He releases the skin and drags his tongue over it, then kisses his way back up to her ear. “I wanna take you to bed.”
Helena nods eagerly. “Wait, I don’t want to ruin this.” As patiently as she can, she gathers the bottom of her dress, then pulls it up and over her head, sliding her arms out of the sleeves. She hangs it over the back of the chair and turns to face Mark in nothing but her bodysuit.
His eyes roam her newly exposed skin appreciatively—pale swathes sharply contrasting with the black fabric, painted warmer by the soft glow of the bedside wall lights. There’s a familiar hunger in his gaze as he approaches her. He captures her lips with his own, then picks her up and carries her to bed.
Helena’s back lands on the mattress gently, and she sinks into it as he settles on top of her. Their tongues dance as she untucks his shirt and slides her hand underneath it, stroking his back and holding him close. Mark cups her breast through the material of her bodysuit and she arches into his touch, breaking the kiss with a gasp. She slips the straps of her bodysuit off her shoulders one by one, holding his gaze. Then he takes over, pulling it down slowly, planting kisses on her torso as each new inch of bare skin is revealed. He drags it down her legs and tosses it aside, then takes in the sight before him.
“Beautiful,” he says, looking nothing short of captivated.
Warmth blooms in her cheeks. When he runs his hands along her sides, it draws a satisfied hum from her lips.
Helena wants to feel all of him. She tugs at his shirt. “Off.”
He strips out of his shirt and pants; his boxers come off without hesitation. They collide again, chest to chest, skin on skin. They kiss languidly, their hands exploring the curves and divots of each other’s bodies, all the places they’re hard and soft.
He pulls back, moving down until his face hovers between her ankles.
“Mark,” she whines. “Get back up here.”
“I’d like to do something for you,” he says, a question in his eyes.
Helena thrums with anticipation. She’s curious, but responds with a simple nod. She’d let him do anything he wants to her, because he’s proven time and time again that all he wants is to make her feel good.
Mark drops a kiss on the top of her foot, then begins a slow path up her leg, every press of his lips seeming to soothe and ignite simultaneously. He repeats it with her other leg, careful but fierce.
He pauses briefly when he reaches her knee, scanning the fading bruises decorating her inner thighs—remnants of a heated encounter neither of them had been present for, but their bodies retain evidence of. He leaves a light kiss on each mark, then drags his mouth to her upper thigh mole and grazes it with his teeth before closing his lips around it and sucking gently. Her cunt throbs with arousal; he’s so close to where she needs him, his face pressed to the crease of one thigh as his fingers stroke the other one. She tilts her hips up with a gasp.
“Shhh.” Mark slides his hand to her hip to hold her down, then kisses from her mole to her hip and up her stomach. He presses his lips to each freckle he encounters, his exploration slow and measured as he caresses her side. “So beautiful,” he says into her skin, and it reverberates through her. “God, you’re perfect.”
His words. His touch. Everything he does reflects the unconcealed admiration he has for her, a devotion she never has to question.
It’s like she pulled him out of a dream, except she doesn’t think her mind would have been able to conjure up anything like this. No, this is an intimacy so rare, so earned, that it can only be real.
Helena brings a hand to Mark’s head, encouraging him to look up at her as she threads her fingers through his hair. She smiles at him before pulling him closer to press a kiss to his forehead.
His expression is soft, then he dips his head again, dropping a kiss on her sternum. His hand comes up to stroke her breast, rolling her nipple between his fingers while his mouth works her other one. Her breathing grows heavier as he licks and sucks and plays with her peaks until they’re both pebbled and she’s squirming beneath him.
“So pretty, all hard for me.” He blows on her spit-soaked nipple and she lets out a whimper. He kisses the mole on the side of her breast, then gently bites into her flesh and sucks in a way that’s sure to leave a mark.
The pleasure, the pain, the feeling of being claimed by him—they only make her more restless.
“I need you,” she says, voice high and thready, her hips lifting off the mattress as she seeks friction.
“I know.” Mark strokes her hip, not pinning her down but not letting her grind against him either. “Just be patient for me. You’re doing so well.”
His pupils are blown wide, and she knows this is killing him too—holding back from giving her any kind of release while her desire is on full display. He’s always so eager to please.
When his fingers tease her entrance, she moans. He slides his digits up her folds, then removes them, causing her to let out a choked noise. His gaze is hungry as he pulls his fingers apart, watching her slick stretch between them and run down his fingers obscenely.
“Fuck,” he mutters, his breathing noticeably heavier.
“It’s all for you,” Helena tries, every word the truth. “Come and clean me up.” She means it to sound light, a little authoritative, but it drips with desperation instead.
“Hel…” His voice is strained, and she knows she almost has him where she wants him.
She spreads her legs wider. “Yours.”
He gets into position between her thighs, his warm breath teasing her cunt agonizingly.
“Put your mouth on me,” she pants. “I’ll fuck your face until it’s covered in it.”
Mark groans. “Please.”
He closes the distance. Starts slow, dragging his tongue up her folds, lapping at her entrance with care. He’s taking the time to taste her, moaning as he savors her arousal. His tongue slips inside her, shallow and teasing, then he licks up her pussy, tracing the area around her bundle of nerves before moving his mouth downward, a line of hot breath trailing her center. Helena’s fingers land in his hair, lightly scratching his scalp just the way he likes. She tries to match his energy, to let him lavish her cunt with attention at a leisurely pace, but her clit begs for pressure. She tugs at his hair and guides him toward where she needs him most.
Mark looks up at her, eyes glazed over with pleasure. When he finally kisses her swollen nub, her hips jerk. He swirls his tongue in slow circles, then presses it flat against her. Her fingers tighten in his hair, holding him in place as she begins to rock against his mouth, soft moans escaping her with every roll of her hips. He swipes his tongue over her clit determinedly. She notices he’s rutting against the mattress in a clear attempt to obtain some relief for himself, and fuck, it spurs her on further. Her breaths come heavy, her moans increasing in pitch and frequency. His ministrations get sloppier as she grinds wildly against his face, but she’s already close, and the pressure is perfect, and the sight of him so eager between her thighs has her feeling euphoric.
A loud cry falls from her lips as she comes, her release erupting sharply. Mark licks her through it, wringing every last drop of pleasure from her before gradually easing off. He presses kisses to her trembling thighs, then crawls up her body until they’re face to face. Satisfaction surges through her upon seeing her fluids all over his mouth, chin, and cheeks.
“You okay?” he asks, brushing her sweaty bangs from her forehead. His other arm comes up to wipe at his mouth.
She smiles up at him. “I’m good.”
“Yeah, baby, you are.” He peppers her face with kisses. “You’re fucking incredible.”
Helena beams as the last kiss lands on her lips. Then his lips drop to her shoulder.
“Turn over.”
She rolls onto her stomach without hesitation. Waits for his touch. It used to make her feel exposed, having her back turned like this—her body presented to him for appraisal without her being able to examine his reaction, handing over the control, allowing him to surprise her. It still gets her heart racing, but that’s mostly due to excitement now. His tried and true love for her is a safety net, reassuring her that no matter what happens, he’s going to take care of her.
Mark’s hand comes to rest on her lower back, fingers splayed possessively. The weight of it is comfortable and grounding; she practically melts into the mattress under his touch. He slides his hand up her spine, and once it reaches her neck, he brushes her hair to the side.
“You’re gorgeous like this,” he says, voice low and reverent. “Even though I miss the other half of your pretty face.” He circles the apple of her cheek with his index finger and punctuates the action with a tap to her nose, causing it to scrunch. His fingers delicately tuck her hair behind her ear, and before she knows it his mouth is against it, hot breath tickling her skin. “I can’t believe you’re mine.”
Heat shoots through Helena’s core. She shifts beneath him, pushing her ass up against his cock and finding it hard and wet at the tip.
“Not yet,” he manages, voice tight.
“Are you talking to me or yourself?” she teases.
Mark responds by licking the shell of her ear, then leaving a trail of languid kisses down her neck, her shoulder, her back. She whines when he seems to skip her ass entirely, but then his teeth graze the area where her cheeks meet her thighs, and she feels like she could cry with relief.
His hands skate over her waist and hips before firmly grabbing her ass. Helena groans as he massages it under his palms, and then his mouth meets her skin, nibbling at the flesh and planting kisses on both cheeks. His lips settle in one spot, where he takes a soft bite and starts to suck, his hand stroking her other ass cheek before sliding between her legs and finding her entrance. He slips a finger in and slowly pumps in and out, Helena gasping each time he brushes the sensitive spot inside her. A second digit enters with ease and she clenches around him, whimpers escaping her with each curl of his fingers.
His mouth leaves her ass with a wet pop, but he stays close enough for her to feel his breath on her skin. “That feel good?”
“Yeah,” she breathes out. “More. Fuck, Mark—” His name breaks into a cry as it leaves her lips.
“That’s it, baby. Keep making those pretty noises. You’re making me so fucking hard for you.”
Helena moans loudly, and it’s genuine. She loves the effect she has on him, how he’s not shy about letting her know it. She’s writhing uncontrollably now, her clit rubbing against the sheet below her, and the pleasure Mark is drawing out of her climbs with every stroke. She’s close, catastrophically so, babbling words and noises and his name over and over again, no thoughts in her head except for Mark and the way he’s making her feel.
Her orgasm rips through her. She squeezes her eyes shut as her body tenses, gasping harshly against the mattress. Her breaths come ragged as she rides out the waves of pleasure, shuddering even as they ebb.
Mark slows his movements, then slides his fingers out of her. He’s quick to settle over her, kissing her cheek softly. “God, Hel.” His voice is on the warm side of worshipful. “You just relax, and when you’re ready maybe we can—”
“I need you inside me.” His stiff cock brushes against her torturously. Fresh arousal pools. “Now. Please.”
“Okay, baby. I’ve got you.” Mark kisses her cheek again, then pulls back. He gently lifts her by the hips, picking up the pillow next to her and sliding it under her center.
Her ass is already elevated, but she makes a point of tilting it upward, drawing his attention to where she’s glistening, waiting to be filled by him. He groans, softly cursing under his breath. The tip of his cock drags along her folds and a whine escapes her, but he doesn’t keep her waiting for long. He settles against her entrance, then slowly, mercifully, pushes into her. Low moans spill into the room as they both welcome the feeling.
“So perfect,” Mark says, leaning over and moving her hair to one side. “It’s like you were made for me.”
“Mm, I’m yours.” Her walls tighten around him, as if she’s trying to hold him there. He’s just as much hers as she is his, as much as his outie and her innie are theirs and each other’s. Four people or two, they’re ending this journey as one.
Mark presses his lips to her shoulder, then starts thrusting into her in a steady rhythm; she rolls her hips slowly, matching his pace.
“That’s my girl,” he murmurs. “My baby. My Helena.”
Her string of satisfied moans is interrupted by the hitch of her breath, the effect of hearing him use her name in a possessive context. It’s unsurprising, everything considered, but it still sends warmth flooding through her. Pleasure, joy, gratitude—it all compounds into one beautiful, blissful feeling. Her throat feels a little tighter for it.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” she manages. “Don’t stop.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it. You’re doing so good, Helena. Taking me so well.” He drops a kiss on the top of her spine.
“Can you”—her breath catches—“go faster?”
“Anything you want.”
He picks up the pace. Grunts fall from his mouth, his breath hot and heavy on her cheek. She doesn’t think she’ll ever get over the way it feels to have him inside her, all around her. So right, regardless of which version of him he is. He’s Mark. Her Mark.
Her climax builds steadily, pleasure increasing with every stroke, her cunt pulsing around him as she nears her peak. A choked sob escapes her, then she’s coming apart with a soft moan. The sensation spreads throughout her body deliciously, and suddenly Mark is right there with her, groaning loudly as he spills inside her, giving her a part of himself to keep.
He presses a kiss to the damp skin of her shoulder blade, then slowly pulls out and collapses onto the bed next to her. His hand comes up to stroke her cheek. “I hope these are good tears.”
“Yeah,” Helena says, sniffling a little. “That was…”
“Okay?” he asks, expression playful.
“Perfect.”
They lie on their sides, eyes flickering over each other’s features, her fingers tracing the contours of his face—his cheekbone, his nose, his chin. Warm fluid seeps down her inner thighs, and she rolls onto her back and slides her hand between them, gathering and coaxing it back into her entrance. When she looks at Mark again, he’s watching her, mesmerized. She gives him a knowing smirk before pulling the covers over them, then curls into his side and kisses his chest. He wraps his arm around her and presses his lips to the top of her head.
“I love you,” she murmurs, tiredness starting to seep into her voice. “If I’m not here the next time you wake up, tell Helly I asked her to blow you.”
“Helena,” he rasps. Hushed, but his tone is light. “I don’t think that’s—”
“Just kidding.” She yawns. “Wanna do it myself anyway.”
Mark chuckles and she feels the vibrations beneath her. She’s so comfortable like this. Her eyes drift shut, and she doesn’t fight it.
“I love you,” he says quietly. “I don’t think I could ever really show you how much.”
A smile tugs at her lips. “You do pretty well.”
He strokes her arm gently. It has a hypnotic quality, though truthfully his presence alone is enough to lull her to sleep. Maybe it should be scary—the power he holds. To thrill and delight her, to reassure and calm her. But in searching her mind, she finds no fear. Not when she so clearly has the same effect on him. There’s only a deep sense of security, steadfast affection, and an untamable excitement about the fact that the life all four of them have worked so hard to build is almost theirs.