Man, the things people get upset about. Like leaving B&W mid-kiss… you’d think that would be a good thing, but oh no, I get yelled at for stopping there. Well, all right, the thing continues, but as I have cautioned people in the past, be careful what you ask for… also, related sidebar, sort of, to the anon who asked if I plan out my stories and never deviate, or if I just start and see where they go: I plan the beats, and I rarely deviate from those. I will add or cut scenes if something feels off—I try to pay attention to when the engine makes a clunking noise—but generally the beats are in place, and all that’s left to do is write the prose… which can get away from me, wordily, or I will write more jokes, or a conversation will take longer to get from point A to point B than I’d thought it would… and that’s why I usually end up with more parts than I intend. This story, though, was always intended to have, um, several. Which I guess makes this as good a point as any to say that these were the previous ones: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, and part 8.
It’s a mess of a kiss, but it’s a lengthy, glorious mess, and Helena’s hands are finding their way up Myka’s neck and into the softness of her hair, and Helena can feel Myka’s hands burning against her arms and her back and everywhere else they land… they are both trying to keep their balance, and she might be pushing Myka back against the door or Myka might be pushing her back against the table or they might simply be pushing…
…but now they are breaking apart, leaning back, staring at each other, and while Helena has never seen a face express surprise so archetypally as Myka’s does in this moment, she knows her own features are showing Myka the same thing.
How long have I wanted this? Helena is thinking, and she is also thinking It doesn’t matter because now I will in fact be fired and possibly even by Caturanga.