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Madeline finds that nothing quite beats the way Helen Sharp's lips slot perfectly against her own, like they were made to fit together.
Even weeks later, after everything, regret simmers in Madeline's chest; she could have had this so long ago, she always thinks, at least once every make-out session—they've had many so far.
But Helen always pulls her back as soon as she starts to drift away. A needy, quiet moan bubbles from her throat, her grip—one hand tangled in blonde hair, the other clawing at Madeline's clothed back—tightening with want.
They're on the couch, having failed to simply relax and watch a movie in the late hour. Madeline finds they're guilty of this often. They're latched onto each other a considerable portion of the day, no matter what their actual plans were. Madeline is perched at a slight angle on the end of the couch, turned just a little so Helen can curl into her side and comfortably lean in to lick into her mouth. Madeline's hands grip at her hips, nails digging in just slightly, enough to make Helen whimper with every squeeze.
Helen's tongue dips further into Madeline's mouth and she moans loudly around it as Helen explores her. Heat tugs at her chest and stomach, she's buzzing with electricity and the lack of air, despite not needing it to live, gives a pleasant swirl to her world.
Helen moves her hand from Madeline's back to simply explore her chest and stomach, feeling the give of soft, plush skin beneath her clothes. Madeline moans again, her hips jolt when Helen dives just a little lower, right above her waist-band.
"Maddie," she sighs into her mouth, voice full of awe.
Helen's fingers slip lower, sliding underneath the band of her silk pajama shorts. Her fingertips brush Madeline's navel, warm and searching and—
Madeline gasps and jolts upright, phantom heartbeat jostling her chest wildly, as she snatches Helen's soft, dainty hand. Her ears ring slightly and her breath quickens. The loss of contact still makes her chest hurt, but she can't think straight.
"Hel—I—Wait—" There's dissapointment in her own voice, like it's painful to say it, but the panic in her chest has to be settled.
And Helen's big green eyes don't make her feel any better. The sting of rejection is clear behind them (not good enough, never good enough for Maddie) and Madeline wants to cry.
"I'm sorry," Helen whispers, ignoring the way her voice cracks. She looks so small as she hunches her shoulders and leans back, putting space between them.
"No, baby," Madeline whispers, tucking a stray auburn curl behind her ear. "I'm sorry. I don't—" she looks away, ashamed to admit it.
I don't know what's wrong with me.
It had become apparent Madeline was having trouble with this the moment they had finally let loose what was stuck deep in their chests.
It was no suprise, in hindsight, that things would come crashing down within weeks of promising forever. A stupid argument over nothing important—because old habits die harder than the pair themselves—erupted into their first fight since Helen moved into Madeline's mansion.
Everything culminated into Helen pleading Madeline to, once in her life, be honest with who she called her best friend; Why, why, steal all her boyfriends only to cast them aside? Why ruin her relationships for seemingly no reason?
Madeline snapped, then.
Helen. It was always for Helen, she explained.
They weren't good enough. They would cheat on her with anyone, Madeline was only intervening first to spare her feelings. No one deserved Helen, she was always too good. Those boys were just that—boys; they'd never give her what she deserves.
Excuse after excuse, shot down by a hurting, aching Helen.
Until Madeline screamed.
Because she loves her. She loves Helen so much it fucking hurts. She loves Helen so much she can't fathom sharing her. So much, she wants Helen to be only hers, always, forever.
It happened so fast afterwards. Helen invaded Madeline's space, lightning fast, until their lips collided. Forgive the cliche, but it felt downright magical to Madeline. Colors erupted behind her eyes. Her hand came up to cradle Helen's jaw, the other wrapping around her and tugging her closer.
And just like that, her thirty year long dream had come true.
Helen was hers. Really, really hers.
Her French-tipped nails dug into Madeline's waist as she shoved and shoved her back until she was pinned against the wall. And she was happy to let herself be pushed and prodded where-ever Helen'd like her.
Until she began frantically pulling at the ribbon of Madeline's flowing house robe and suddenly Madeline couldn't breathe. She didn't push Helen off her but she didn't not push her, snatching her hand off her robe and lightly shoving her backwards. Her throat felt like it was closing, waterline threatening to betray her.
Helen looked fucking terrified. Only a few weeks together after ten years apart and Madeline can still read her mind, clear as day. Clear as a still lake. Madeline can see all the way to the bottom.
Helen ruined everything, Helen kissed her and now Madeline realized it wouldn't work out, that Helen wouldn't be good enough. Madeline was going to leave, leave and never come back and Helen would be alone for the rest of forever.
The concept that Madeline made Helen think this felt like being killed—and she knows how that feels. It was agonizing and she had to fix it.
"Helly, no, no," she started, frantic. pulling her back in to hold her close, "It's not you, please don't ever think I don't want you."
The fear behind her eyes lessened a fraction and her shoulders relaxed. But she was still a little rigid, aprehensive, trust still being built at the speed of Rome between them. Madeline couldn't fault her, not after everything she'd done.
"I just—I don't want our first time to be makeup sex. Please, Helly."
And she supposes its the truth. A half-truth, but still the truth.
The whole truth is that she's terrified.
All her life, Madeline's never truly loved anyone besides Helen—and she didn't even know she was in love with her for an embarassing amount of time—despite her large repetoire of suitors and lovers, a husband and many affairs. She's at a point in her afterlife where she can admit she was filling in the empty spot in her chest where Helen should be.
But now that she has Helen…
She can count on her hands how many times a lover has made her come in her [REDACTED] years of living.
There were only two common denominators in these affairs; men of course—and they could be the entire reason Madeline struggles in this area, but she can't be certain, since she's never been brave enough to fuck a woman (it doesn't help that the woman she's always wanted is Helen, which she's never had)—and her.
She could pin her displeasure on men—she does love to do that—but what if it's Madeline? What if there's something deep inside of her that's broken, something that can't be fixed, that will haunt her for eternity?
She just doesn't know, maybe it would all be fine and Madeline will have freaked out for nothing, but what if it isn't? What if she tries this, gives into what she's wanted all along, allows herself to feel some ounce of pleasure, only to not be nearly enough for Helen?
If she can't come, if she's a broken clock that peaks twice a year, Helen will feel terrible—she knows Helen like that—she'll feel like she's not enough for Madeline and that will ruin her. She isn't stupid. She knows Helen's only ever wanted to be enough for Madeline—Madeline used that against her throughout their lives in their stupid games.
And, on the other side of the coin… if she can't make Helen feel good…
Surely she'll realize the only thing Madeline's ever been good for is a sham as well. She'll realize Madeline is a hollow doll, a terrible monster of broken parts who can't give Helen anything she needs— or deserves for that matter, because Helen deserves the fucking world—and Helen will realize there's much better out there for her. That Madeline has tricked her into thinking Helen needs her. Into thinking she loves her.
Then she'll leave—which she has every right to do, Madeline thinks, if she can't give her what she deserves—and Madeline will be left to wander the world for eternity alone. And not just alone, but without Helen. Madeline's been alone all her life, but Helen-less? It will surely kill her, potion or no potion.
And if the heartbreak doesn't kill her, she'd have to find a way to do it herself, because she can't fathom a world where she is without Helen—but she would never make Helen stay with someone like Madeline.
And what if—
"Maddie."
Madeline blinks away at the tears in her waterline.
The world comes back into focus and she's met with big wet green eyes boring into her own.
"Hel," Madeline breathes Helen's name, it's own cure to most of her ails.
Without thought or hesitation, she reaches forward to grasp Helen's hand. It's small and cold—the same temperature as Madeline—and it shakes just a little. But, still, Helen curls her fingers around Madeline's and squeezes thrice.
"I wish you would talk to me, Maddie," she whispers in the silence. "Where did you go? Just now?"
Madeline shakes her head dismissively—she can't make her problems Helen's like she always did, she promised she'd be better. "It's nothing Hel, it's just—I was thinking, that's all."
Helen's shoulders sag, almost dissapointed. "But it's not nothing. Clearly, something's wrong."
Madeline feels that familiar heat in her chest but she can't stop herself.
"Nothing's wrong, Hel," she scoffs as she takes her hand back and leans a little further back into the couch. That old, familiar feeling to defend herself—to claim there is nothing wrong with Madeline Ashton—rises up, like bile in her throat, sickening and acidic.
"I hate when you do this," Helen grumbles, looking down at her empty hands.
"Do what?"
"Pretend like it's all fine when it's not—we both know it's not."
"Don't be dramatic."
"Maddie," Helen almost pleads. "You looked like you were about to cry."
"Can't you just forget it?" Madeline chews the inside of her cheek.
"I thought we were done with this."
Madeline makes a humming sound close enough to huh that Helen continues. "We both agreed, if we're going to work, we have to be better. You're lying to me."
Madeline pauses. She's stuck between a rock and hard place. Lie, and prove Helen right? Or tell the truth and have it all finally come crashing down? It's getting harder to breathe.
In the middle of her silence, Helen sighs dejectedely.
"I just… I don't know what I'm doing wrong." And she sounds so small again. So tired, so dissapointed—in herself, in Madeline.
"Nothing," Madeline says immedieately, like the thought itself is absurd. "Nothing, Hel, you're—"
You're perfect, Hel. You're perfect and I'm terrified.
"Then why won't you let me touch you? Why won't you tell me what's happening?" Helen practically begs.
"Nothing's happening!"
"You are such a shitty liar!"
"And you're impossible! Why can't you leave well enough alone?"
"Because you won't tell me."
"Because I can't!"
"Why?"
"Because—" Madeline hears her own voice, loud and strained. She stops and closes her eyes before taking a deep breath through her nose. She starts again, her voice more level but with a slight tremble she does a terrible job of hiding.
She swallows around the lump in her throat. Be better for Helen.
Be better for Helen.
"Do you know how many people I've slept with?"
Helen blinks, thrown for a loop. "… What?"
"Enough that I'm supposed to know what I'm doing." She sighs, bringing her knees up to her chest. She can't look Helen in the eyes as she admits it. "Enough that it's all I'm ever fucking known for in Hollywood. Not my Oscar nominations, not my best selling movies, not the fact that I've opted up more than Jessica fucking Vosk, not even my goddamned Razzie," she spits the word like it's a curse. "Sex, Helen. It's what I do. It's what I'm best at."
She looks up and meets confused, pity-ing green eyes deep and endless.
The truth. Be better.
"What if I don't? What if I can't?" she whispers, afraid to speak the words into existence.
Helen's brows furrow further. "What if you can't what?"
"What if I've spent my whole life pretending all of this meant something because everyone else seemed to like it and it got me places I never would have been able to go…"
Her breath hitches. "…and then the first time it matters—the only time it's ever fucking mattered…"
"Maddie…" Helen whispers. She reaches her hand up but hesitates.
Madeline's eyes sparkle brighter with tears and her voice wavers even more as she let's herself be honest. "You deserve this to be wonderful. Perfect."
"It will be."
"You don't know that."
"I do." God help Helen and her need to fucking help.
"No you don't!" Madeline finally snaps. Hot, fat tears roll down her cheeks in waves as she practically wails. "What if I can't make you happy? What if I'm not enough for you? What if I finally get you—really get you—and five minutes later you realize you made a terrible mistake?"
Her face crumples with pain at even the thought, and it crumples more when she says it out loud: "I cannot lose you again."
Helen goes very still, the little v between her brows creasing as she watches Madeline. For a second—an awful, terrible 100 milliseconds—she's terrified she's said too much, said the thing that finally knocked some sense into Helen's skull and made her realize Madeline won't ever be what she needs—what she deserves.
"Oh, Maddie," she whispers softly.
Madeline blinks.
She opens her mouth to say something—anything.
Instead, a broken sob spills out so suddenly it almost startles her. Her shoulders hitch forward violently, another wrecked sob tearing through her throat before she can catch her breath.
"I—I don't—it's—" Tears blur Helen into a mosaic of auburn curls and worried green eyes as every shakey breath dissolves into another helpless cry.
Madeline hates crying—really crying. Not the soft, slow tears on an angelic face she can pull out for movies and men. She hates her real cry; face crumpled, sobbing so violently she has to wipe drool from the corner of her mouth, wailing like a lost child.
It's ugly.
It's real.
Helen leans further in, reaching toward Madeline automatically. She cups Madeline's face so carefully it's almost reverent, brushing away each new tear that falls—a sysiphian task because Madeline can't get herself to stop.
"Maddie, look at me," she says simply.
Through blurred vision and hiccuping sobs, Madeline does as asked. Her bottom lip quivers as she meets Helen's eyes.
"I can't mess this up…" she whispers, voice filled with fear.
"You won't."
"But—"
"You won't." Her voice drops a little, confident, green boring into Madeline's soul. "Madeline, I've spent my entire life loving you. There's nothing in this world that could stop me from loving you—I tried."
Helen continues, quiter, but still sure. "I don't need you know everything."
She brushes a thumb against Madeline's cheek, catching a tear.
"I don't need you to be perfect."
Another tear on the other cheek.
"I don't need you to get it all right on the first try."
She brings Madeline's face closer, until their foreheads touch.
"I just need you, Maddie." The corner of her lips quirk up, almost hopeful, definitely full of love. "You're all I've ever wanted."
Slowly—oh, so slowly—like she's trying to give Madeline a chance to back away, Helen leans in. Madeline closes the gap, impatient as always and needing Helen as close as she can get her.
Kissing Helen feels like coming home. Every sound, every touch, it's like Madeline can feel herself loosening and melting in Helen's grasp. She holds onto her wrists, Helen still cupping her face, just to make sure she doesn't go anywhere.
"I love you, Maddie," she whispers between soft kisses. "So much."
"I love you too, Hel," Madeline whimpers as the tears slow. "You're my person. Always."
Helen smiles, eyes sparkling and almost blue with unshed tears.
"Always, Madeline."
Without much warning, Madeline reaches a hand up and curls it around the back of Helen's neck, pulling her closer until she's almost straddling Madeline's lap on the couch. She hugs Helen closer until they're practically one being and kisses her harder than she has all night, until that buzzing in her stomach returns.
"I love you," Madeline whispers between heated kisses.
"I love you." She kisses her lightly on the corner of her mouth.
"I love you." Her lips travel to her jaw, planting several pecks there.
"I love you, Helen Sharp." She latches onto her neck, sucking a desperate bruise there.
"Ah—Maddie," Helen groans when Madeline bites hard enough to sting, before soothing over the spot with her tongue. Her hands automatically come up to card through blonde hair, lifting her chin up to give Madeline more access.
Madeline is relentless. She shoves Helen back until she's sitting with her back against the couch and clambors onto her lap with desperation, kisses only broken by needy gasps. As Madeline hurredly untucks Helen's cami from her fluffy pajama pants, Helen breaks away to speak.
"Maddie—Madeline, baby, hey." Helen gently pulls Madeline back to look her in the eyes, her hands returning to hold soft cheeks. A flash of concern mixes with worry on her features. "We don't have to do this now… You don't have to prove anything to me."
She kisses Madeline so gently it's barely there, just the brush of her lips as she smiles sweetly. "We can just stay like this. For as long as you need."
"Helen, please." Madeline whimpers desperately as she tries to kiss her once more.
Helen leans back, holding on to Madeline's shoulders to keep her from latching on again. "I'm serious, Mad, I don't want you to feel like you have to do this for me."
"I know baby," Madeline whispers.
She takes Helen's hand, holding it loosely and bringing it up to kiss her knuckles. She locks eyes with Helen, trying to transfer all the confidence she feels. "I need you Hel. Now. Touch me, baby. Please touch me."
She guides Helen's hand to rest on her chest, encouraging her with a squeeze.
"Please, Helly," in a quiet whisper.
"O—okay," Helen breathes, her lips curling up with excitement. She gives a gentle, experimental squeeze to Madeline's breast again—and Madeline can't help but drop her head into the crook of Helen's neck, hips jumping forward slightly.
Helen spends a moment simply feeling the give of soft skin beneath her hand as Madeline whimpers quietly and occasionly deposits needy kisses on Helen's neck.
She slowly reaches for the hem of Madeline's silk pajama shirt again, thumbing the pink material before she speaks.
"Can I?" she husks into Madeline's ear. There's an almost unnoticable undercurrent of fear, like she's worried she'll scare Madeline away.
"Yes, yes," Madeline sighs, leaning back—regretfully—from her neck, so helen can pull the smooth material above her.
With her pale, freckled chest on full display, heaving slightly with desperate breaths, Helen stares in awe. Of course the pair had seen eachother in various states of undress throughout their lives, but this is different. An uncharacteristic jolt of bashfulness floods through Madeline as Helen's green eyes rake over every square inch of her.
Before she can get fully self-concious Helen reaches forward to tenderly knead one of Madeline's breasts. Madeline sighs, her hips baring down just slightly under the touch. She fights the urge to dip her head back into the crook of Helen's neck; she wants to watch every second of this, want's to watch Helen unravel her with her own two eyes.
"So soft…" Helen mutters almost to herself, mesmerized. A flush spreads over her cheeks and chest and shoulders, entirely enamoured. "You're so beautiful, Maddie."
Madeline is positively buzzing. She can't sit still, sighing and whining under Helen's attentive touch. She shifts her focus to the other breast, taking her time, enjoying Madeline in her grasp.
For once, Madeline doesn't find herself all that impatient. She wants Helen to devour her, yes, but she also wants Helen to take her time. To unravel every little knot of tension, to smooth over every inch of skin, to re-learn every atom in Madeline's body at her own pace. She wants Helen to claim her—not in some hot, needy, desperate way, quick and wet and fast; she wants Helen to re-write her name into Madeline's very soul (ten years without her has faded the ink).
Emerald green eyes bore into sparkling blue as Helen leans down and takes a perked, pink bud into her mouth. When her warm, wet tongue swirls over Madeline's nipple, she keens slightly, moaning.
"Oh—Helen." Madeline wraps her arms around Helen's neck, gripping onto the hair at the base of her head for stability.
Helen hums with contentment, the vibrations shooting straight through Madeline's spine. She pushes more of herself into Helen's mouth, whimpering. Her underwear is so wet, it sticks to her as she grinds down against Helen again.
"So pretty," Helen hums, kissing the top of each breast. She looks up to meet Madeline's eyes again. "I love you, Maddie. Every inch of you. You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen."
The praise does nothing for the flood. Madeline can't find the words to respond, so she brings Helen into another searing kiss. Their tongues slide together harmoniously—no one's fighting for dominance this time, completely in sync and completely desperate for one another.
Madeline reaches for Helen's cami again, pulling the fabric up until it only just barely still covers her breasts. "Please, Helly, I wanna see you."
Helen wastes no time in helping Madeline take the offending garment off.
As always, Helen's tits are incredible. Perfect, round globes of pale skin, littered with freckles and moving with every breath. As Helen gently slides her hands up and down Madeline's sides, watching her watch Helen, Madeline can't help but mutter.
"God, Helen, you're so beautiful it fucking hurts."
Helen lets out a breathless laugh that shakes the blonde above her.
Madeline bites her lip, glancing between Helen and a particularly delicious looking tit. She looks up and brings out the (entirely un-needed, because Helen looks like she's ready to let Madeline do absolutely anything she wants) puppy-eyes.
"Can I?" she aks, leaning down until her breath curls against a pink nipple.
Helen nods frantically, pushing her chest out as she grips onto Madeline's hips. "Please."
Madeline tentatively licks a nipple, testing the waters before she takes as much of Helen as she can into her mouth. Her skin is soft, salty where she's sweat, and moves pleasantly under Madeline's touch. Helen rumbles below her, almost purring, biting her lip to stifle a groan.
Madeline's having none of that. She lifts up just a little—smiling when Helen whines adorably—and speaks. "Don't hold back, Hel. I'm not."
Helen heaves a few breaths as she nods in understanding. Madeline moves on to the other breast, tasting Helen there. She takes as much in as she can again, swirling her tongue around a rosy nipple before sucking harshly.
"Ohmygod, Maddie," Helen keens, hips jolting up to meet Madelines. Both of them choke on a shared moan at the contact.
In a show of confidence, Madeline bites down on Helen's nipple and pulls her head back until it slips from her mouth, then watches the way her breast ripples as it falls back into place. Helen groans, the sound low in her throat and Madeline smiles.
Madeline kisses and sucks at every available spot she can reach; her neck, her chest, her tits, even deposits a light bite to her shoulder when Helen grips her hips in a surprising show of strength to still her rocking. And Helen rewards her efforts with endless sighs and groans and moans and whispers of her name (Madeline will never not love the way her name falls so prettily from Helen's needy lips).
When Helen is sufficiently marked, and Madeline's underwear sufficiently ruined, Madeline finally leans back, lips swollen and pink and pulled into breathless smile, to admire her masterpeice.
Helen is panting beneath her, eyes half-lidded, thumbs massaging circles into the junction of Madeline's hip bones. Madeline can't take the heat in her stomach anymore, she takes one of Helen's hands and guides it lower and lower until she's cupping Madeline over her matching silk pajama shorts.
Helen gasps when her fingers graze over heat and wetness that's managed to seep into the light fabric.
"You're so wet, baby," she says like she's surprised—Madeline doesn't know why that could be surprising, this is the hottest thing she's ever experienced in her life (and she was there at Helen's booklaunch).
"For you, Hel, for you. Please, baby." Madeline babbles, grinding down on Helen's hand for some much-needed friction.
Helen gulps and draws her hand back slightly, looking up at Madeline with worried eyes. "Say the word and we stop. We don't have to rush or finish what we started, we can wait. We have forever, Maddie."
"I know, Helly." Madeline kisses Helen soundly on the lips and smiles sweetly. When she pulls back, she licks her lips and half-growls. "I'd rather die all over again than stop. I want this. I want you."
Helen nods, no need to be told twice. She quickly helps Madeline out of her shorts, shimmy-ing her flannel pajama pants down well until they're both bare on the couch. She brings Madeline back to settle in her lap again, sliding a hand down to meet wet warmth.
Madeline pitches forward, caught entirely off gaurd.
Madeline Ashton has felt a lot of good things. Being nominated for, not one, but two Oscars. That one stagedoor she did when she had to do an emergency stand in for Ms. Lovett. Meeting Helen. Becoming best friends with Helen. That one time she accedentally walked in on Helen stepping out of the shower in college. Every affair she had while thinking of Helen. Every time she touched herself while thinking of Helen.
Nothing—nothing—beats this.
"Hel," she gasps, "don't stop—please, don't stop."
"Never, my love," Helen sighs, burying her nose in the strawberry haze of Madeline's hair as she gently runs two fingers over her clit.
The term of endearment brings a sheen of tears to Madeline's eyes, surprising herself (her love—Helen's love—Helen's love). She can't take it anymore. The heat in her stomach is buzzing and electric and hot, but the softer, warmer heat in her chest is all-consuming and distracting. She needs Helen more than she's ever needed anything in her life.
Madeline manuveres herself just a tad, so that she's straddling one of Helen's thighs, her fingers still rubbing circles against her clit. She slides her hand down the pale expanse of Helen's chest, then further down to circle the scar on her stomach with light, apologetic touches, until she reaches dark red curls.
Helen's breath hitches with cool fingertips slide through her slit, wet and aching.
"You—you don't have—mmh—" She tries to ignore the pleasure to speak. "It's not transactional, Maddie."
Madeline sighs and speaks around the lump in her throat. "Helen Sharp, would you stop thinking so hard? Let me touch you, baby, I've waited thirty years too long."
Helen bites her lip and nods, letting her legs spread a little wider to give Madeline access as she quickens the pace of her own fingers.
Despite the nerves and pleasure and general writhing, the pair find their rythm easily—like always, their orbit synchs with no effort, made for eachother, made to be one. Madeline rocks against Helen's hand as she uses her thigh to press her own fingers between Helen's legs.
Every movement causes both of them undulate their hips, pressing harder against the other. Heated kisses only break with particularly firm presses and wanton gasps.
"You sound—so pretty, Maddie," Helen breathes. The praise makes Madeline whine and grind her hips down again. The wetness causes Helen's fingers to slip, sliding forward until they catch on Madeline's entrance. Madeline moans, loud and unexpected and reaches up the curl her hand around Helen's neck again.
"Can I—" Helen groans, letting her fingers slide over her entrance on every other pass. "Can I go inside?"
And she asks the question so sweetly, looking up at Madeline with big doe-eyes.
"Please, baby, please," Madeline groans. She teases Helen's entrance as she speaks again. "Can I?"
Helen's hips jolt up as she nods frantically. "Yes—yes, baby, of course."
Helen gently slides a finger into Madeline—it's almost effortless with how wet she is—at the same time Madeline curls a long, cool finger inside Helen. Both women moan in tandem, bringing their foreheads together, their heated breathes mingling between them as they thrust in time with the other.
"Another, Helly," Madeline gasps.
Helen grabs Madeline's hip with her free hand and lifts her up before gently bringing her back down onto two dainty fingers.
"So good—so good, baby, oh my God," Madeline babbles, seeing stars. She uses her knee to help press against Helen, shifting her thumb so it rubs against Helen's clit frantically.
Helen's head tips back, breath shuddering before a deep moan releases from her chest.
"Oh, Maddie, I love you, I love you!"
"I love you too," Madeline manages to whine as she undulates her hips, filled with Helen deliciously. "I love you—Helly, I—I'm close."
"Me too, baby," Helen smiles, capturing pink lips in a bruising kiss for a moment before she feels something wet brush against her cheek. When she opens her eyes and pulls back, Madeline whimpers—interrupted by a choked sob, tears flowing freely down her cheeks.
Helen half-freezes, her pace faltering as she speaks. "Maddie, baby, are you—"
Before Helen can worry, Madeline shakes her head frantically. "I'm okay, it's good crying, it's so good, Helly, please don't stop."
"Good crying?" Helen asks as she resumes soft, deep thrusts that make Madeline keen.
Madeline nods repeatedly. "I love you, Helly. You're my everything. You're mine."
Helen clenches hard against Madeline's fingers and she can't help but continue.
"You're mine, Helen, you're mine, you're all mine." Madeline chants in time with her thrusts. The tears come faster, running down her cheeks in hot trails. Helen's quick to follow suit, green eyes getting bluer as a couple slip down flushed cheeks. Helen clenches further around Madeline's fingers, eyes screwing shut in ecstacy.
"Maddie—I—I'm—" Helen can barely get it out, nails digging into Madeline's hips and putting as much effort as she can into quickening her own pace between Madeline's legs.
Madeline rocks with abandon, chasing the searing heat in her stomach and curling her fingers in time with Helen until she the world tilts around her, blurred by tears and pleasure.
"Come with me, Helly. I want you to come with me, baby," she manages.
Helen nods twice before it hits them. Madeline's body curls forward of it's own accord, searching for Helen instinctively, as Helen stiffens below her.
"Helen," Madeline cries, coming apart under Helen's touch. Her legs clamp around her thigh and hand, velvet walls contracting in pulses that send sparks up and down her spine. Wetness gushes out of her, soaking Helen's hand and leg and the couch.
It's all consuming but soft at the same time. Helen inside her, below her, grabbing her, breathing into her hair with stuttered breathes, she feels utterly consumed by Helen. She's exactly where she's always wanted to be.
At the same time, Helen groans an "Oh God, Maddie," as her hips shoot up, thighs slamming shut as best they can. Her whole body stutters underneath Madeline, letting go of her hip so she can hold Madeline's hand against her, jolting and shuddering pleasantly through the aftershocks.
"You're all mine, baby," Madeline continues, riding the high and whispering against Helen's lips as she gently helps bring a whimpering Helen down. "I've got you."
Helen smiles, soft and just for Madeline, glowing in the warm lamplight of the living room. She takes her hand from Madeline's center and returns her grip to her hips, rubbing circles into the soft skin. "Say it again."
Madeline smiles back, repeating after Helen and pulling her fingers out. She holds on to soft, plush skin of her sides for stability as she speaks. "You're mine, Hel. All mine."
Helen always says Madeline's smile is blinding. She compares her to the sun all the time, calls her warm and bright and always 'blinding.'
Madeline doesn't think Helen's ever seen her own smile, if she thinks Madeline's is the end-all-be-all of smiles. Now, that's blinding, she thinks; a big, toothy grin, lop-sided with unbridled joy, golden in the afterglow of her orgasm, eyes still a little blue from the tears.
Helen leans forward to kiss Madeline for the umpteenth time that night. "And you're mine, Madeline."
"Yours," Madeline sighs against her lips. She laughs lightly. "I love the sound of that, Hel."
"Good," Helen says. Her grip tightens on Madeline's hips. "'Cause you'll always be mine. Forever."
Madeline breaks the kiss to bring Helen into a hug that might've knocked the air out of them if they were still alive. They hold eachother close for a while, Helen rubbing soothingly up and down Madeline's back while the blonde wraps herself tightly around her, burying her head into Helen's neck.
Helen grabs a throw blanket resting on the back of the couch and tries her best to manuever the two of them to lay back. It's hard, though, considering Madeline clings to her desperatley—like a koala, only blonde and somehow cuter—arms holding on to her and legs tangled as she snuggles her head into the soft skin of her chest.
Helen drapes the blanket over them, bringing her hands together around Madeline's back, interlocking her fingers and hugging her close.
Madeline smiles, completely content in Helen's grasp.
She wonders if there's anything out there better than this (it's a rhetorical question, she knows there's nothing better than being Helen's). Everything in her head and chest and stomach feels weightless, like she's floating on the feeling of finally—finally—having Helen the way she's always wanted.
Even the after—the slow touches, the soft kisses, the press of naked, sweaty bodies against eachother—it's still magical and everything Madeline was terrified it wouldn't be.
She's so used to rough hands grasping her close, to stuble rubbing uncomfortably against the back of her neck, to strong arms trapping her in a post-coital cuddle as she pretends she enjoyed herself.
Instead, Madeline thinks it'd take a natural disaster to peel her away from Helen's body. She'd rather throw herself down the stairs this time than let go.
"Baby," Helen breaks the silence, her voice rumbling in Madeline's ear where she's laying against her chest. "Are you crying again?"
Madeline allows Helen to lift her head up, both hands on her cheeks. She blinks, finally taking notice of the tears slipping from her eyes and pooling on Helen's chest, between the valley of her breasts.
"Yeah—sorry—" Madeline wipes furiously at her eyes, but Helen stops her.
"Don't apologize." She swipes at a few tears and kisses the crown of her head. "Tell me?"
"I'm just—" Madeline feels ridiculous trying to explain it. "I'm so happy, Hel."
Helen smiles, listening intently. She even lets Madeline rest her head back on her chest again, the eye contact too much combined with the vunerability (the fact that Helen realized this and accomodated wordlessly does nothing to help the tears).
"I never thought I'd have this," she sniffles, drawing little patterns on Helen's ribs absently. "I thought—" another pause as she gulps, "I fucked up so many times, Hel. I fucked you over so many times. When I stole—when I married… when that happened, I told myself that was it; I made you hate me so much that I'd never see you again. And even when you came back, I knew it was for him—"
"It was never about him—"
"Okay," Madeline huffs indignantly, "when I thought it was for him, I was certain there was no going back. There there was no going back, and you'd run away with him and leave me and I'd never have what I tried to tell myself I didn't want. But I wanted it so bad. With every fiber of my being, I've wanted you all my life. And now you're here.
"And I'm just so happy we have this, Hel. I was so terrified I'd go the rest of my life without you."
Helen smiles and pets Madeline's hair softly as she speaks, her voice a low, tired sound. "Now you have me, Maddie. You have me always."
"And you have me forever," Madeline responds in a content sigh.
Time blurs as they stay cuddling on the couch in happy, satisfied silence.
Madeline can't stop thinking about the concept bouncing around in her head. They've practically been soul-bound since college. Insperable even when they were worlds apart. In the past few weeks, they've pledged their love and impending eternities to eachother countless times. Madeline wonders how much different what they're promising is from something a little more legal—and in writing.
"If I asked you to marry me, would you say yes?" Madeline asks suddenly.
Helen chokes on air, freezing underneath Madeline for a second, that statement clearly the last thing she expected to break their peaceful quiet. It only takes a second to recover before she speaks.
"Yes," she breathes, tone sure and confident, biting her lip in anticipation.
When Madeline hums in understanding but says nothing for another ten seconds, Helen's brow furrows and she speaks up again, confused.
"Did you just… propose to me?"
Madeline shoots up, offended.
"Of course not!" And she bites back a tiny self-satisfied smirk when she sees Helen's shoulders drop almost sadly. "It's gonna be way better than that, Hel."
Helen laughs, something real and genuine and from deep in her throat and Madeline can't help but plant a solid, love-filled kiss directly on her lips.
When they part, they both speak at the same time, their voices mixing into one sound.
"I love you."