Favorite Sweater

by Erin Griffin


Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Helena/Dinah

Summary: This is practically a PWP, there isn't a summary.

Disclaimer: I don't own them, and as the show has been canceled for a while, I doubt anyone does, but to be safe, I own nothing and no one ouwl pay me money for this small piece of badly written smut.

Author's Note: I have never written a PWP before, but well, there's a first time for everything. If it sucks, I am sorry.

Her eyes were feral as they looked into mine. "Tell me the truth," she demanded as she pinned my hands to the bed at both sides of my head. Her grip on my wrists was strong, but that was always to be expected from her. I smirked, not buying her tough act, but still she put pressure on my wrists. "Did you or didn't you?"

"I did," I said, moving my hips, making them bump against hers where they straddled me. I heard a breath of shakey air leave her lungs as she stared down at me. She leaned in closer to me, her bare breasts dangling inches from my chest, her eyes narrowing.

"Hold still-"

"Or what?" I challenged her, moving my hips again deliberately, and hearing a groan escape her. I grinned up at her and she stared at me before letting bot of my wrists go. I immediately gathered both of her breasts in my free hands and squeezed. "Or what, Helena?" I asked again as I watched her back arch, offering me her body to do as I please. "You got that sweater back, and I washed it first this time, so what are you complaining about?"

"That was..." she hissed when I took her nipple into my mouth, "..my favorite sweater." I detatched myself and heard her make a sound almost like a whine as I sat up, forcing her body to sit up.

I moved my hands up and down her back as I leaned in and flicked my tounge over her ear lobe before murmuring, "Mmm, and so was the grey one you never wear, and the dark blue one you swore you meant to throw out, not to mention the velvet one that doesn't match anything you have... ever." Helena's throat rumbled in her pleasure, and I grinned again, loving the fact that I had this control over her. She may be the older, wiser, hotter of us, but in the bedroom, she is mine. She might be able to kick my ass in the training room, but in here, I have control, even though she liked to think otherwise. Big Bad Huntress was weak here in my arms as I caressed her skin and left a hickey on her neck.

"I value all of my clothes," she mimbled.

"Yes, I am sure you do, even the ones thrown in the back of your closet because Barbara thought you'd look good in them, when everyone knows they aren't your style," I said. I pulled away a little bit, and when Helena was about to reply, I put a finger to her lips, then replaced my finger with my own lips. "Now, I think I have better things to do with my mother than to argue with you on such matters as your unused clothing. Wouldn't you agree?" Helena nodded, and I smirked. I kissed her fully, and I felt her desire in my mind. I saw all of the things she wanted me to do with my mouth, and all of the things I had already done. I moved my hips and said, "Get up." She did as she was told, unstraddling me, and I pushed her down onto her back with a look that clearly said that I was the cat who just got the cream. "Lay down," I said unnessasarily, for she was already there, her elbows behind her on the bed and lowering her head to the mattress as my feet kicked at the pillow behind me. Helena had her legs open for me, and I let my eyes roam over her body before I situated myself between them, my face not more than an inch from the smell of her arousal. I kissed her inner thighs before I spread her open and let my mouth go to work. I felt her breathing quicken, and her hips moved against my mouth. I heard my name many times upon her lips as we moved in a rhythem that was, well musical. Lame way to describe it, such a cliche' I know, but it was true, really. It was beautiful. Helena's orgasm hit, and I slowed my tounge before it slowed all together. She slowly let go of my hair and pulled me up and kissed me. She licked my lips and tasted herself.

As I lay my head on her chest, stroking her stomach, she sighed deeply. "I forgive you, Dinah... but that really was my favorite sweater."

I rolled my eyes, and said, "Sure Helena, whatever you say." I looked up at her to see her grinning this time. "Whatever you say."

Erin Griffin

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