Work Text:
6:42PM Madeline: if ur not home in the next 20 minutes i’m eating dinner alone.
6:43PM Madeline: and by dinner i mean me <3
Helen exhales slowly, learning back slightly in her seat.
She could ignore it.
She should ignore it.
That would be the smarter move. The stronger one.
But the truth is, Madeline doesn’t send messages like that unless she’s already committed to the performance. Which means whatever is waiting for her at home…
Helen’s jaw tightened, just slightly.
…is going to be a problem.
A small, controlled smile flickers at the corner of her lips.
Fine.
6:45PM Helen: How impatient. I would’ve thought you could last a little longer for me.
Instantly, the three dots began to appear.
Helen’s stomach tightened as she tried to ground herself in her cab.
6:45PM Madeline: well i had a lot of time to think while u were away. i got bored…and creative.
Helen’s reads the message once.
Then again.
Of course she did.
There’s a very specific kind of implication in that phrasing. Deliberate, proactive. Madeline never does anything without intention, especially not when she has an audience in mind. Well…Helen in mind.
And Helen knows —knows— that whatever is waiting for her at home has been planned, adjusted, perfected.
For her.
Her thumbs linger against the screen a second too long.
She can picture it already. Not clearly— Madeline would never make it that easy but enough to make her focus slip, just for a moment.
Annoying.
Effective.
Helen exhales softly, expression smoothing back into something neutral.
Madeline wants a reaction.
She won’t get a real one.
…but that doesn’t mean Helen won’t play along.
6:47PM Helen: I leave for a few days and you start entertaining yourself? Guess i’ll have to deal with the consequences when I get home.
6:47PM Helen: In 4 minutes.
6:48 Madeline: i was very generous while u were gone hel. all those pictures. all that effort. seems like u forgot already.
Helen’s expressions stills slightly as she reads it.
Forgot?
Not quite.
If anything, they’ve been…inconveniently difficult to ignore.
They’d appeared at the worst possible moments. In between meetings with editors, at dinner, where her focus should have been elsewhere. Carefully timed. Carefully chosen.
Deliberate.
Helen’s jaw tightened just slightly.
Madeline doesn’t do “generous.” She does calculated.
And the worst part is—
Helen let out a slow breath.
—it worked.
Her thumb taps once against the side of her phone, considering.
Madeline wants acknowledgment.
She’s not getting.
Not like that.
6:49PM Helen: You assume too much. As usual.
The soft chime of her phone cuts through the quiet just as the cab pulls to a stop.
Helen doesn’t check it.
Not yet.
She already knows who it is.
Instead, she reached for the handle, stepping out onto the packet, the cool air hitting her face — grounding, steady.
Home.
Helen shuts the car door with a quiet, final click.
The cab pulls away almost instantly, tyres whispering against the pavement, leaving the street still again.
For a moment, she just stands there.
Looking at the house.
Theres a light in inside - warm, deliberate. Not the usual glow, but something brighter.
Of course.
Helen exhales, adjusting the sleeves of her coat, more out of habit than necessity.
Her phone still in hand.
Another message waiting.
She doesn’t open it.
Not yet.
Instead, she walks up to the front door, heels steady against the path, every step measured and controlled like she’s not walking into exactly what Madeline’s wants her to.
The key slides through the lock as the door opens under her hand.
“Mad.”
No answer.
Helen steps inside, closing the door behind her with a soft click. Her gaze moves automatically, taking in details, assessing.
“Madeline?” she calls again, sharper this time.
Still nothing.
Her brow tightens just slightly.
Of course she’s here. The lights are on, the air smells faintly of something rich-food, maybe— but there’s something else underneath it. Perfume. Familiar.
Intentional.
Helen sets her bag down, slower now, more aware.
This isn’t absence.
This is staging.
A small, knowing shift settles into her expression as she moves further into the house, heels quiet against the floor, following the trial of candlelight towards the dining room.
She doesn’t rush.
If Madeline is playing a game, Helen had no intention of losing control of it by reaction too soon.
But as she reaches the doorway—
She stops.
There she is.
Her view was encapsulated by the blonde, who was sprawled across the centre of the dining table like a centrepiece—deliberate, posed, utterly unapologetic. Pink lacy underwear and a matching bra, like she’s commuted fully to whatever fantasy she’s constructed.
Waiting.
For her.
Helen’s gaze lingers a fraction too long.
Then—
“Oh,” she says flat, composed.
A beat.
“I see.”
A small sound was released from Madeline’s lips with delight as Helen moved herself to sit at the end of the table.
Directly in front of Madeline’s cunt.
Helen noticed the sound.
Of course she did.
Her gaze lifts instead — deliberate slow — tracing upwards to Madeline’s face, taking in everything but what Madeline was offering so openly.
Composure, first.
Always.
“You went to a lot of trouble,” Helen says at last, voice even, almost conversational.
As if this were nothing.
As if Madeline wasn’t quite literally offering herself on a platter for Helen.
Another small shift — Madeline adjusting, just slightly, trying to draw the attention back.
Helen lets out a silence stretch.
She can feel it, the expectation building, the impatience creeping in.
Good.
Her hand moves — but only to rest against the table beside Madeline’s heel, fingers tapping once, thoughtfully.
Not touching.
Not yet.
“I assume this is what you meant by ‘creative’,” she adds, quieter now, gaze finally dropping — just for a moment — before returning to Madeline’s face.
Measured.
Controlled.
“And here I thought you might try something new.”
Madeline lasts all of a few seconds.
Then she exhales sharply and pushes herself upright, the movement quick, frustrated — ruining the careful pose she’d held for who knows how long.
“Are you serious?” she snaps, voice edged with something dangerously close to a whine. “I’ve been lying here waiting for you, and you’re just sitting there?”
Helen doesn’t move.
Madeline’s eyes flashed, irritated and something softer tangled underneath it.
“I missed you,” she adds, move insistent now, like Helen lack of reaction is something to argue with. “I missed your hands, and I went to all this effort—“ she gestures vaguely to herself, to the table, to the entire scene “— and you’re not even going to pretend to appreciate it?”
A beat.
Helen tilts her head slightly, studying her.
Really studying her.
The shift in posture. The impatience. The crack in the performance.
And there it is.
Something almost like a smile touches the corner of her mouth — not kind, not unkind. Just…knowing.
“Madeline,” she says calm and measured as her hand travelled to Madeline’s calf.
A pause — deliberate.
“You lasted longer than I expected.”
Madeline lets out a sharp, disbelieving laugh at that.
“Of course I did,” she shoots back immediately, sliding down the table just enough to properly face her—closer now, no distance left to hide behind. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting?”
She doesn’t give Helen time to answer.
“You disappear for days, barely respond to anything I send you—” her voice tightens slightly, something real slipping through “—and then you walk in here and act like this is nothing?”
Her hands move as she talks—restless, expressive—before one of them lands lightly against Helen’s shoulder, not quite a push, not quite a touch.
“I missed you,” she says again, quieter this time, but more pointed. “Not just… this—” a small, frustrated gesture between them “—you.”
A beat.
Then, because she can’t help herself—
“And you’re sitting there like you’re reviewing a performance.”
“I liked you better when you were being patient,” Helen says calmly.
Her fingers toy idly with the strap, adjusting it slightly—not fixing, just playing.
“But I suppose this is more entertaining.”
Madeline inhales sharply the second Helen’s fingers brush the strap.
There it is.
Finally.
Madeline inhales sharply the second Helen’s fingers brush the strap.
There it is.
Finally.
She leans into it without hesitation, her hand tightening slightly around Helen’s wrist, like she’s afraid she might pull away again.
“Don’t—” she starts, breath catching, then steadies herself, eyes locking onto Helen’s. “Don’t start something you’re not going to finish.”
Helen’s gaze doesn’t waver.
If anything, it sharpens.
Slowly—deliberately—her fingers slip from the strap, trailing just enough to be noticed before pulling back entirely.
Madeline lets out a frustrated sound, her grip tightening instinctively.
“See? That—” she gestures vaguely, irritation flashing again “—that’s exactly what I mean. You keep—”
She cuts herself off, exhaling hard, trying to rein it back in.
“You’re doing it on purpose.”
A pause.
Helen tilts her head slightly, studying her.
“Of course I am.”
Calm. Unapologetic.
She shifts closer instead, closing the space again—but still not giving her what she wants, not quite.
“You were the one who said you got bored,” she adds, voice low, measured. “I’m simply… correcting that.”
Madeline huffs a small, disbelieving laugh at that, but she doesn’t move away this time.
If anything, she stays right there—too close, eyes flicking between Helen’s face and her lips like she’s waiting, daring her.
“Then hurry up and be interesting,” she mutters.
Madeline watches her for a second longer, chest rising and falling a little too quickly.
Then something shifts.
Instead of arguing again, she lets her grip on Helen’s wrist loosen—just slightly—fingers trailing rather than holding.
“Oh, I see what this is,” she says, softer now, a hint of a smile pulling at her lips.
Helen’s gaze narrows faintly. “Do you?”
Madeline tilts her head, studying her like she’s the one in control now.
“You like this,” she murmurs. “Dragging it out. Making me beg.”
Madeline leans down into Helen’s lips, closing the gap entirely.
Helen doesn’t move.
Madeline’s voice drops, quieter, more deliberate.
“But you wouldn’t still be sitting here if you didn’t want it just as much.”
A beat.
Helen’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly.
Madeline notices.
Of course she does.
Her hand slides from Helen’s wrist, slower this time, up along her arm—not forcing, just guiding, like she’s testing how far she can go.
“Go on,” she whispers, a challenge now, eyes locked on hers. “Stop pretending.”
Helen’s composure snaps—not loudly, not dramatically—but decisively.
Her hand catches Madeline’s wrist, firm this time, turning the movement back on her in one clean motion.
“Careful,” Helen says, low and controlled—
—but there’s something sharper underneath it now.
Then, without another word, she pushes forward.
Madeline barely has time to react before she’s guided—pressed—back against the table, the movement quick, certain, leaving no room for argument.
The candles flicker slightly with the motion.
Helen then proceeded to climb onto the table, strangling Madeline’s lap.
She lent over her, close now, finally abandoning the distance she’d been holding onto all night.
“Now—stay still.”
Helen then lent into Madeline closing the gap as she smushed her lips into Madeline’s, as though they were both fighting for dominance.
Helen’s hands found their way to Madeline’s pink panties and started performing small circles on her clit.
Small moans escaped Madeline’s mouth in between the kisses.
“Fuck—“ she whimpered. “You…fuck…don’t know how much i’ve missed you.”
Helen pulled up from Madeline to admire her.
Her hair, draped and messy around her shoulders and the slightest smudge of mascara made her look like a fucking vision.
She looked real.
Messy.
“Oh I think we both know how much you’ve missed me, Mad.”
Helen then moved down from Madeline’s lips towards her neck, where she began to kiss and suck around the area.
The thick, hot air consumed both of them as the lights flickered slightly illuminating the two women.
Madeline’s hands travelled around Helen’s ass, playfully squeezing and nipping just enough for the pain to zip through her body.
Helen’s lips linger for a moment longer at her neck before pulling back to continue lower, tracing a slow line down her body, as if she’s taking her time to appreciate every part of her.
Her hands lightly grazed her breasts as she moved towards her cunt.
…and then she stops.
Right there.
Close enough to feel the tension in Madeline’s body, but not moving any further.
Madeline’s breath catches the second Helen stops
A sharp, restless tension coils low in her stomach, spreading through her chest, her limbs—making it impossible to stay still. Every nerve feels heightened, aware of the space between them, of how little it would take for Helen to close it.
And yet she doesn’t.
Madeline exhales shakily, her knuckles tighten and clench into a fist by her sides.
Helen won’t be rushed.
That only makes it worse.
A quiet, frustrated sound slips from her lips before she can stop it, her head tipping back slightly against the table as she tries—and fails—to hold onto what little composure she has left.
“Please Hel,” it comes out softer than she intends, her voice catching on the words.
Madeline swallows, her fingers tightening, searching for something to hold onto.
“Helen…” she tries again, breath uneven now, the edge in her voice melting into something far more fragile. “Don’t just—don’t just stay there.”
A small, restless shift beneath her betrays her completely.
“Please.”
Helen stills.
That word—please—does something to her.
Not visibly.
Her pussy could not be throbbing more. She could almost feel herself dripping through her suit pants.
Her gaze lifts slowly, dragging itself up from where she’d been holding her, back to Madeline’s face. Taking in the tension there, the impatience, the crack in her composure.
Helen exhales softly, something darker settling into her expression now—less distant, more decided.
Her hand finally moves, finding its way to Madeline’s cunt, not teasing this time—firm, grounding, anchoring her in place.
“There you are,” she murmurs, voice low, almost approving.
A pause.
Her thumb shifts slightly, performing circles against Madeline’s clit, just enough to remind Madeline who’s in control here.
“But if you’re going to beg,” Helen continues, quieter now, leaning into her cunt, enough to close the space between them—
“you’ll do it properly.”
Another beat. Deliberate. Measured.
Her gaze locks onto hers.
“Say it again,” she murmurs.
Softer.
“Call me what you really want to.”
“Mommy please.”
Helen lets out a soft, breathy laugh, the sound warm with satisfaction.
Her grip tightens just slightly.
“That’s my good girl,” Helen smirked.
She the began to move Madeline’s panties to the side, taking her in moment by moment.
She slowly dipped her head and placed her tongue against Madeline’s clit, making her jump in the process.
A small, breathy sound escaped Madeline’s lips as Helen continued.
Helen proceeded to lick her clit, slow and controlled, while her hands travelled towards her bra, placing her hands exactly where Madeline wanted them.
“Oh fuckk,” she whined as her hands travelled to Helen’s auburn hair creating a ponytail for her.
Helen’s eyes flicked up so Madeline as she witnessed her chest inflating and deflating in a controlled motion.
Small, shallow breaths liberated through her lips.
“Fuck keep going,” Madeline whined as she gripped her thighs, trying to ground herself.
Madeline leg then pulled upwards and placed itself along Helen’s back.
Helen’s breath catches—not sharply, but enough to betray the shift.
That tone.
That need.
She sped up her motion, darting between sucking and flicking at her clit while she snuck a finger inside of her.
She could feel her walls compressing as she became increasingly close to the edge.
“Is mommy doing a good job?” Helen asked talking into her pussy.
“Mhm..,” Madeline cried, letting out inaudible sounds. “fuck Hel, I’m gunna cum.”
Her gaze lifts, locking onto Madeline’s face.
“Look at you,” she adds, quieter, almost amused, but softer than before. “All that patience gone.”
Madeline’s grip tightens in response, her breath uneven, her control clearly slipping.
Helen notices.
Madeline’s sounds became increasingly louder, her legs locking onto Helen’s back.
“Fuck…tell me i’m your good girl.”
“You’re being such a good girl for mommy.”
Madeline gasps, the sound catching in her throat as everything hits at once, her composure shattering completely as she clings to Helen, unable to hold herself together any longer.
She suddenly came, covering Helen’s fingers and mouth with thick liquid.
A slow breathy laugh slipped from Madeline’s mouth as Helen still licked her clit.
“Oh my God,” she breathed. “you’re so much better than my vibrator.”
Helen lifted herself from Madeline’s cunt and took her fingers, placing them inside Madeline’s mouth.
Madeline complied and took her fingers in, sucking like she’d practiced this dozens of times.
“Mhm, of course I am.”
Helen’s eyes find hers, and this time she doesn’t look away.
She studies her, like she’s committing the moment to memory, something quieter settling behind her usual composure.
“Do you have any idea,” she says softly, “how much I love you?”
Madeline lets out a quiet laugh, still a little breathless, her gaze not leaving Helen’s.
“I love you too,” she says softly.
Her head tilts just slightly, a spark of mischief returning.
“Get on your back.”