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Alone in her tent, with no one left to perform for, Helena feels more like Helly than she ever has before. The night had ended quickly after Milchick dumped their marshmallows in the fire, and Helena, bearing sole responsibility for the punishment, didn’t dare speak to any of her coworkers afterwards. Instead, she slipped through the flaps of her heated tent and sat down with herself.
Helena had hoped that being Helly would fill some sort of hole in her, that maybe all it would take to cull her insecurities was the family that Helly had built. But Helena feels isolated even in the presence of MDR. She sometimes thinks she was born lonely, and she wonders if her innie feels the same way. She knows that Helly woke up in an empty room. She remembers how surreal it was watching the tape back after her first shift. Seeing herself be born anew in real time. Helly relearned in half a second what it meant to be alone.
Now, after Irving has stormed off into the trees and Ms. Huang has packed up her theramin, she and Helly are lonely together. Helena wraps her arms around her body and squeezes until she feels tears pricking the corners of her eyes.
She wishes Helly was really here. If only there were another soul that knew the aching loneliness that lives inside her.
But she’s not. Helena starts to arrange the blankets left for her and redirects her thoughts to the story of Dieter and Kier, the parallels drawn between their tale and the plight of the severed. The story, of course, had been intended to show the innies the dangers of indulgence, to compare their half-lives to Dieter’s. But Helena can’t help but imagine herself as Dieter, while Helly plays the role of Kier. Perhaps it’s the constant reminders from her father that Kier no longer lives in her body. Perhaps it’s something more.
A zipper being pulled jolts Helena back to reality, and Mark pokes his head into the tent. The sight does nothing to cheer her up. He looks so shy, with those warm puppy eyes that are supposed to make her melt. She knows they aren’t for her, and that knowledge prevents any potentially soft emotions from forming. All she can feel is a rippling, aimless jealousy.
Helena can’t afford to slip up at this point, so she shoves it down and lets Mark try to soothe her fears, too sweet and gentle to feel like anything. It seems like the scuffle with Irving hasn’t blown her cover, Mark too hopelessly smitten to see through her. He rambles about how much he likes her, or something like that, and Helena blushes and smiles at all the appropriate times.
But she’s somewhere distant in her mind. She’s focused on the drop of sticky sweat tracing down her spine. On the thought that before Mark came in she had been all alone with Helly.
She misses five minutes ago.
Now Mark’s looking at her with open want in his eyes, and he’s expecting her to kiss him. Their faces are close together, and Mark has stopped talking. Helly would kiss him, if she were here. So that’s what Helena does.
He’s far too polite, offering a chaste closed mouth kiss. Helena counters the soft press of his lips by opening her mouth against his, tongue seeking. She doesn’t want gentle. If Mark is surprised, he doesn’t show it, tentative tongue meeting hers, their saliva mixing. Helena digs her fingers into the back of his head and asks for more. He offers it, always willing.
His hands find purchase on her jacket, and Helena starts to peel off her layers one by one, relishing in the cool air reaching her hot flesh. Mark scrambles to follow her lead. He’d follow her anywhere, she’s sure of it. She’s hardly paying attention to him, tugging at both their clothes without looking, skin growing itchy with the need to be laid bare.
Mark pushes forward, and Helena’s on her back before she knows it. Her base layer is still on, and she squirms in the difficult new position to tug her shirt over her head. Mark helps her. Once she’s naked from the waist up, they both pause.
Mark hovers over her in awe. Helena looks at herself with the same reverence.
It surprises her, the arousal that flows through her at the sight of her own body. Her nipples are hard, her chest is heaving slightly. There are goosebumps down her stomach, down Helly’s stomach. This performance has trapped her in the liminal space in between the two of them, contorting herself into Helly’s mannerisms while still thinking as Helena. It detaches her from her body in a way that thrills her. In simple terms, she’s hot, and now she can see that for what it is.
Mark places a tentative hand on Helena’s abdomen, trailing slowly down to her waistband, and she wants Helly’s nimble fingers to replace his. It doesn’t occur to her in the moment that Helly’s fingers are hers.
“Is this…?” Mark whispers, the sound dissipating before he can finish his sentence.
Helena’s words stick in her throat until she remembers Helly’s voice. “Yes,” she murmurs, and pulls him down to kiss her again so she can maintain her composure. Their lips slide against one another, Mark’s clumsy and seeking, Helena’s pliant. She can be soft for him. She’ll be what he needs, and if she’s good enough at it maybe she can really be Helly, even if it’s just for a second.
Her stomach tightens at the thought, and she realizes that she has to make Helly come. She needs to feel Helly clench and spasm, needs to feel her throat vibrating with Helly’s moans. She needs it so bad it hurts.
Suddenly, the tent is far too hot and her pants are coming off, she’s desperately kicking them down as Mark struggles to keep up. She tugs her underwear down enough to spread her knees beneath him and grabs his hand to draw it between her legs.
Mark lets out shaky breath. “Wow, you’re wet,” he murmurs.
Helena almost laughs at his bluntness. She’s soaked, and it has absolutely nothing to do with him. He slips a finger through Helena’s folds. Helena’s brow furrows. No, Helly’s folds. When she frames it that way, her hips twitch towards the contact. Helly’s here, with them, between them. Helena can feel her weight against her chest, her excitement coiled in her stomach. Helly’s inside of her, way down deep, and Helena needs Mark’s help to reach her. His middle finger grazes her clit, and her breath catches.
“Mark, inside,” she whispers. He’s been speaking low to protect this moment from the others; she does it to keep herself as small and separate as possible.
“Are you… Are you sure?”
“I’m so sure,” Helena exhales. Her eyes flutter shut.
She can feel Mark adjust himself on top of her to make room. When he settles with one finger gentle against her entrance, his groin ends up pressed into her thigh. He’s hard, and his length twitches in response to the pressure of her leg. That sort of takes her out of it, but then he’s sliding his finger slowly inside her and she doesn’t care anymore. He pulls out, adds a second finger, and presses back in. Helena hums. She keeps her eyes closed, knowing if she opens them she’ll see him looking at Helly with more love than Helena’s ever received.
Her hand dips down between them as he gradually works her open, and she palms at his cock through his pants. They’re thin and made of cotton so she can feel the heat of him in her hand. His breath comes out shaky, and his fingers still inside her for a moment.
Helena opens her eyes. “I need you,” she says, and when it comes out of Helly’s mouth Helena can almost believe herself.
Mark tugs his pants to his ankles and settles between her thighs, knees coming down on the sleeping pad to push hers further apart. He strokes himself and licks his lips as he looks down at her, and Helena watches it all with a mixture of amusement and apprehension. The tip presses against her entrance, and Helena lets her eyes flutter shut again.
In her mind she’s on top. She’s slowly pushing her cock into wet heat, and the stretch feels so good for Helly and overwhelming for Helena. Or, Mark. She’s losing track, her brain going fuzzy, and Mark bottoms out in the meantime. If he’s shocked at how easily she took him inside of her, he doesn’t express it.
His head drops to her collarbone, and Helena realizes he’s shaking slightly. “Fuck, Helly,” he mutters.
“You can move,” she whispers in response.
He’s pulling halfway out, and she’s still imagining she’s the one sinking back into herself. Her hands are gripping tight to Mark’s waist, and in her mind the fingernail indents left behind are on Helly instead of him.
Helena moves one hand up and around his shoulders to keep him steady, while the other one crawls down to her own hip to dig her nails in. Maybe if she presses hard enough, it’ll last until the morning, and she can look at it and think of Helly marking her body.
Mark doesn’t notice, his thrusts coming faster and deeper, his body learning hers. Every few moments, he readjusts his hands and his knees. Each time he manages to push himself deeper. The head of his cock hits that spongy spot inside her and she imagines that’s where Helly lives.
It feels good, really good, Helena discovers. She feels full, in a way she so rarely is. On instinct, she moves her hand to the top of Mark’s head and pulls him towards her chest.
Something roars inside her when his lips reach her breast. “Drink,” she murmurs, hoping he doesn’t hear her.
Mark tentatively darts out his tongue to flick against one of her nipples, and her fingers tighten in his hair. He takes the note and wraps his mouth around it, sucking hard.
Helena’s mouth drops open. There she is.
Helly’s here, bursting out of the seams between their bodies. She’s suckling at Helena’s nipple, and rolling her body against Helena’s, sinking her nails deep into the meat of her hip. It’s like she’s trying to draw every fluid out of her body, a vampire attempting to drain her of her tempers and replace them with something richer. Helena can’t tell the two of them apart, every point of pleasure on her body is a place where the veil thins and she and Helly can finally reach one another.
Helena feels slick dripping out of her and onto the sleeping bag beneath them, and she moves her hand between her legs, underneath the spot where Mark pounds into her. She gathers the fluid on two of her fingers and brings them up to her lips to suck them into her mouth. She moans, the taste of Helly filling her senses.
Mark is entirely obsolete in this moment. With her eyes shut this tight, with Helly in her mouth, everything is her body and everything is her touch. There’s heat building in her stomach, her hips thrusting to meet Mark’s unsteady rhythm. His hands wander over her skin, and sure, they’re larger than Helena’s but maybe it would be hot if Helly had big hands.
Helena can vaguely hear herself whining, her voice growing louder with the pleasure. Mark lifts his head and puts a hand over her mouth. It triggers a switch in Helena’s mind. Helly, with an extension cord wrapped around her throat. The bruises left behind on her neck for weeks. Selfishly, Helena flips their positions.
She has control.
She has the body.
Mark makes a small sound of confusion, and it doesn’t even register in her head. Her hips jog on top of him, the new angle causing her thoughts to stutter.
Her hands fall to bracket Mark’s head, and she rocks forward, as if she’s the one penetrating Helly. She has the memory of lying below Mark now, and it lives in her while she rides him. “Say my name,” Helena pleads.
“Helly, oh my god, Helly.”
Her ears grow hot, and she knows she’s close. Helly’s close. Helly. Helly. Helly. “Keep going, I’m almost there.”
“I’ve got you, Helly. You feel so good.” He keeps going. Continues pumping his hips from beneath her and murmuring soft encouragements for Helly. Helena takes them all in and swallows them gratefully, every whisper of Helly’s name bringing her closer to the edge.
Suddenly she’s there, tumbling over the waterfall at Woe’s Hollow, and Helly’s stomach is clenching and spasming with Helena’s.
Pleasure shoots up through her, too hot in the humid tent. They’re here together in her mind. Both of their backs arching. Her jaw falls open and she has to bite down on the meat of her hand to muffle the moan that pours out of her. It’s Helly, every second of it. Every drop of freedom, of pleasure, of desire is Helly’s. It courses through the blood in her veins, drips down Mark’s cock. For the brief instant where Helena’s breath pauses, the two of them are one again. It’s beautiful.
Then it’s over. It’s Helena, alone, panting atop Mark as she vaguely realizes he hasn’t come yet, his hips still pumping softly into her. It hurts, and she pulls off of him. He makes a weak sound of protest, and Helena scoots backward until her mouth is level with his cock.
She doesn’t particularly want to suck him off. But for that half second of union with Helly, it would be worth it.