Awakening From the Dream
Pairing: Hermia/Helena (from "Midsummer Night's Dream")
Part: 1/1
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Gosh, I'm sure that Shakespeare would have written this bit if his audiences had been ready for it. But he
didn't, and I'm just borrowing his lovely ladies for my own nefarious purposes.
Summary: After Act IV, Scene II. Puck has slipped the sleeping draught to all four lovers, who lay slumbering next to
one another. Just before dawn, Helena awakes.
Notes: I always found Helena a bit baffling. She claims that Hermia is her dearest friend, yet betrays Hermia's
elopement plans to Demetrius. And her expressed feelings for Demetrius were so melodramatic that I could hardly
take them seriously. So here's my slashy version of Helena's character motivation.
The sky over the forest was dark and starry, but in the east the faintest flush of rosy pink had begun to color the sky.
In the meadow at the edge of the forest, Helena stirred restlessly, then slowly opened her eyes. She had had the
strangest sense that someone-spirit or mortal, she knew not-was watching her. Her dreams had been passing
strange, and as she woke, wisps of them still clung to her like clouds. She opened her eyes. Hermia, propped on one
elbow, was gazing at her with dark, intense eyes. The recollection of the past night's events came back to her in a
flash, hit her stomach in a cold knot, and Helena made as if to rise. But Hermia reached over and took her arm. "Don't
go," she said softly. And, helpless before the appeal in those luminous eyes, Helena stilled.
Still keeping hold of Helena's arm, Hermia gazed off into space, her lips slightly puckered as if to speak. For a moment,
she was silent. Then she turned back to Helena. The dreamy residue of slumber was replaced by her usual keen look.
"It seems to me that we were...I was..." she said thoughtfully, almost to herself. "That Lysander and I eloped-of that,
I am sure. Then we were wandering through this wood," she stated decisively. "Then..." Hermia paused. Again she
turned the full force of her dark eyes on Helena. "We were fighting-and rather viciously," she added, sounding
surprised. "How unlike us! I almost begin to think there is some magic in this wood, to so mislead our hearts." Helena
said nothing still, but kept her eyes on Hermia's face. "Lysander and I, Demetrius and you yourself were all within that
wood," Hermia continued. "But only you, aside from the two of us, knew we meant to flee Athens! Unless..." Hermia
looked at Helena in surprise. "You must have told Demetrius of our flight!" Helena looked down and nodded. If only
she didn't look at Hermia, perhaps... "Helena-" And Hermia was lifting up her chin with a gentle hand so that she could
no longer avoid the penetrating gaze. Helena was caught. After an eternity of silence, Hermia asked, "why?" This
soft-spoken Hermia was so far from the delightfully fiery-tongued Hermia of everyday familiarity, or the Hermia
wounded beyond the limits of tolerance by Helena's cruelly goading words last night, that Helena knew not what to
say. Although Hermia had always been intense, easily capable of single-minded fixations. She had focused that
intensity on Helena, at the beginning of their friendship. She had fixed it on Lysander-Helena felt the familiar twinge of
jealousy, and as swiftly suppressed it. Now it was fixed on Helena again. She must not mis-speak, Helena thought.
She must somehow find words-if not to tell Hermia what was in her heart, at least to mend what had been broken
between them.
"I couldn't bear it-to lose you." Helena's words fell from her lips, and in an eye-blink she was terrified of what she had
done. It was perilously close to confession. Finally she dared to venture a glance at Hermia again. Hermia's face
resembled the countenance of a saint, of one who has had a divine truth revealed. She was looking at Helena with
such sweet affection that Helena could hardly look at her friend. Hermia leaned over and kissed Helena's brow like a
benediction. Her lips were like the brush of petals. Helena suddenly wanted nothing more than to bruise those
exquisite petals, to devour them, to exact the cost of the loneliness Helena had felt at the prospect of a life without
her dearest friend. She reached up to cup Hermia's face, and pulled those soft lips to her own.
Hermia had kissed Helena untold times. Friendly kisses, apologetic kisses, jesting kisses-there were a thousand and
one reasons for a kiss between friends. But never like this. Helena pressed her mouth against Hermia's lightly, then
harder, then almost bruisingly hard. She sucked the other girl's lip into her mouth and nibbled till she heard Hermia
gasp. She flicked her tongue against Hermia's lips, and they yielded to the demand. Helena took full advantage of her
friend's acquiescence, boldly thrusting into Hermia's mouth, plundering, claiming. Finally she paused, letting Hermia
escape. Looking under her eyelashes, Helena saw a near-unbearably lovely sight. Hermia's eyes were wide, her lips
slightly parted and swollen. Helena almost claimed that ravishing mouth again. But she held back. She had to know if
Hermia was willing or simply unresisting. Hermia's hand went to brush Helena's fair hair from her eyes. Lovingly, it
traced Helena's jaw, her eyebrows, her cheeks, her mouth. Then Hermia whispered, "Let me." And pounced.
Helena was drowning in a deluge of kisses. Hermia was atop her, covering her face, devouring her mouth, nibbling her
jawline, sucking her earlobes. She found the hollow at the base of Helena's neck and teased it with her tongue until
Helena cried out for mercy. Then she bit the tender skin until Helena gasped. Hermia was a force of nature, a tornado
or a tempest-unfastening Helena's robes so roughly that they almost ripped, pulling her own off in a fit of impetuous
impatience while kneeling astride Helena's body, then returning to the embrace. The feeling of bare skin on bare skin
was so inexpressibly ecstatic that both gasped before pressing against each other in a frenzy of redoubled passion.
Helena pulled Hermia to her, slid the other girl up her body so that she could reach Hermia's neck, covering it in small
kisses before nipping, licking along the other girl's collarbone. As Hermia arched up, Helena sucked a nipple into her
mouth, flicking her tongue over it, sucking so hard that Hermia cried out. Then she claimed the other nipple. When she
finally let Hermia's breasts leave her mouth, Hermia slid down Helena's body and frantically sought out that mouth,
thrusting with her tongue again and again into the unresisting depths. The crushing insistence of their bodies together
was almost bruising, almost unbearable.
Helena slid her hands fervently over her friend's body. That she could touch Hermia, touch the beauty she had desired
and longed for so long, was almost impossible to believe. She wanted to feel, to taste, to intoxicate her senses with
the other girl. Her hands slid along Hermia's back, the curves of her hips, the sides of her thighs. Although Helena felt
a momentary fear that her lack of experience would prove a detriment, she knew what she wanted to do. She slipped
her hand between their bodies and sought out her friend's soft wetness. At first all Helena could feel was a curly
tangle of damp curls. Bolder, she pressed inward. Her fingers were suddenly in the midst of the other girl's warm folds,
and she heard Hermia gasp. Helena pressed in farther, slipping deeper. Hermia audibly caught her breath, and Helena
could feel little contractions around her hand. The sensation drove her mad. All she wanted, now, was to bring her
friend pleasure. Cautiously, she began thrusting her hand in a regular motion, trying to think of what she herself liked.
Hermia's response was to begin thrusting her hips towards Helena. Encouraged, Helena began moving faster and
faster. Hermia buried her face in Helena's neck, stifling her moans of pleasure, frenziedly biting the soft skin. The
slippery wetness of Hermia's body and the press of their bodies together had become the parameters of Helena's
world. After what seemed a near eternity, Hermia's motions suddenly became spasmodic, her moans louder. Helena
increased the intensity of her fingers' stroking and was rewarded by Hermia coming, gasping and shuddering, on her
hand.
The two drenched and drained girls lay together for a moment, replete. Then Hermia rolled off and fixed Helena with a
devilish smile. "It seems to me that I owe you something," she whispered. Helena said quickly, "Oh no, I didn't
expect..." Hermia put a finger over the other girl's lips. "Hush," she said sweetly. Propping herself on one elbow, she
stopped Helena's protests with a tender kiss. Then Helena felt a cool finger slipping between her other lips. Her own
gasps were silenced by her friend's lips on hers. The touch on her sensitive tissues, fevered with arousal, was like cool
fire. Hermia began by circling the tender bud teasingly with the very tip of her finger, then began pressing deeper and
harder. Helena encouraged her friend to new levels of stimulation, almost roughness, with inarticulate moans and
wriggling. Already full of pent-up desire, it seemed but a moment before she was at the peak of her own climax, then
crashing down again into near excruciating sensitivity.
Helena wrapped Hermia in her arms, and the two were peaceably still together. Hermia started to shiver, so Helena
pulled the other cloak over them and held her tighter. She had almost drifted into sleep when Hermia asked quietly,
"Helena? What do we do now?" The enormity of the fateful forces that seemed to be buffeting them, abated for a
moment, crashed back down on Helena. She was struck speechless, unsure of what to say. Then, amongst the foggy
doubt that beclouded her mind, one true certainty arose. "Whatever happens, I won't let anything come between us
again," Helena promised her friend. Hermia's body began to shake with silent sobs. Helena wiped away the hot tears
from the other girl's eyes, kissing them away gently. "I swear it," Helena whispered fiercely to the fates, the fairies,
the stars, and the coming rosy dawn.
