Book 6: Rainbows.

Series: Light, Water, Muses. An alternate universe for a variety of television series.

Rating: PG13 for sexual suggestiveness

Warnings: If you don't know these characters, you'll be out of your depth. Nothing outside that except for some titillation.

Category: The continuing saga of Reflections/ Resurgences/Refractions/Rapids/Ripples.

Pairings: Karen/Darya, Dace/Catherine.


Website: ShatterStorm Productions – Light, Water, Muses

Archive: ShatterStorm Productions only.

Author’s Notes: This tale has been a nightmare to produce, representing several years of work and at least two major fights. However, sometimes the birthing process can be a bitch and here is the end result of our sweat and tears.

Dedication: To the muses. We’d be nowhere without them.

Summary: A peaceful night out for Karen and Darya gets pleasantly complicated.


++ Darya ++


Goddess, but it feels so good to just get out of the house! Absolutely no offence to my housemates and the gaggle of children, but all these endless weeks of bed rest have me as antsy as a beehive. But Doctor Bon checked me out this afternoon and I’m fit, healthy and healed up.

I’m also horny enough that even watching Karen stride through the oppressively hot late afternoon is making me want to do completely inappropriate things, considering our surroundings.

The Lonely Lotus is a favorite place of ours, but we rarely get to partake of the sumptuous Thai food, as it’s upscale and Emily was wholly unimpressed on her one and only visit. The idea of the Goldston twins in here makes me shudder. Some of my thoughts must show on my face, because Karen smiles and her sympathy and arousal make me melt helplessly.

The deep roar of a big motorcycle engine is a distraction, and like most, I find myself drawn to the sound, despite the feel of that narrow lightening bolt of pain and fear at anything with two wheels and an engine. Thankfully, this isn’t one of the terrifying crotch-rockets, but a big, beefy machine. The rider is slender, and dressed like a Hell’s Angel, with an inky full-face helmet. I think it’s a woman, but I can’t be absolutely sure. There’s certainly no doubt about the passenger in her spray-painted-on leathers and ample cleavage displayed enticingly.

I’m fairly certain that the longing look on Karen’s face is for the bike, not the riders, and I swallow guilt. She stays away from the big Harley parked in the garage for the same reasons that Sam’s pair are also up on blocks. They remain celibate from their hobby for the sake of the fear that not just I feel.

Still, the guilt never goes away. Even it was her idea…

Some strange sensation skitters over my gift, like a feather boa settling lightly about my neck, and I shiver.

The black helmet is facing me, and I can actually feel the press of whatever gaze hides behind the dark surface. In some unfathomably unconscious move, Karen steps forward just a bit, as though protecting me from some threat from the mystery rider. The big bike slips into a spot some thirty feet away, rocks precariously for a moment and falls silent.

Then they are upright, the tall driver helping down the femme passenger. Then, that tall, enticing figure is striding towards us, jacket zipper yanked down, definitely a woman under that black hide, gloves gone, reaching up for the strap holding her helmet in place.

“No fucking way,” Karen breathes, and before I can look at her in curiosity, the helmet is yanked dramatically away, and for the first time, I see Dace Bogart as she truly looks. Gone are the hideous bruises, the bloodied eyes, the aching stiffness and pain that crippled her so, back when there was snow on the ground. A grin that is enticing and unsettling curls that mouth like a hunting feline; the shaggy blonde hair is a wild, shocking counterpoint to those burning, flame-blue eyes.

Just the way I’m suddenly feeling seems as though I’m cheating on the woman beside me.

Without a word, Dace strides up with quick purpose and the tall women embrace hard enough to make one or the other ‘whuff’. It warms my heart how they cling, a secure, powerful, open embrace that is proof of their shared adoration.

“God, it’s good to see you,” Karen says, her soft voice muffled, and Dace chuckles a throaty sound. Then my wife shoves her sister away with a laugh. “Yuck, you are soaking wet.”

“Damn jacket makes me sweat like a racehorse,” Dace shrugs, and I watch her smiling profile. “I stopped by your place and they sent me here.” The smile turns, and the full force of it is like a lighthouse beam, it’s that stunning. Something primal in me jumps, like someone goosed my clit, my innards shuddering deliciously in reaction. Goddess, but this woman is like raw sex…

And her deepening grin is proof that at least some of my sudden torment is written clearly in my expression, and it’s more than the summer heat warming my face and chest. The perfect gentleman, Dace takes my hand with careful gentleness; I can feel the sweaty heat of her skin as she draws up my knuckles to brush a sweet kiss over them. Even with my hormones singing illicitly, I’m still charmed by the gesture.

“You look lovely, Darya. I’m glad to finally be able to interact with you like a normal human being. You guys remember Catherine?” The abrupt change of topic knocks some sense into me, and the dripping id settles back into my lower brain with a grumble of protest. “Sorry to disrupt your plans, guys. I was just so anxious to see you both.” That smile blossoms mischievous. “Emily was about to come after me with a steak knife for getting there and turning right back around again. I owe her some quality time. God, but she’s a neat kid.”

“Flatterer,” I finally find my voice, and her pale gaze warms even further. When we met, I got the hint of this… this power she holds so effortlessly. When she looks at you like that, you are the center of her universe, and the feeling is quite intoxicating.

Is it bad that I’m almost wishing that I wasn’t taken?

There are hugs and hellos for the sultry blonde, the playful Coyote to Dace’s feline magnetism. “You’ve grown out your hair more.” I note the four months of growth in the older woman’s mane, fingering the way it falls in mischievous waves now. “And these are adorable.”

“See?” Dace drawls dryly and earns a sour look that doesn’t make it to Catherine’s eyes. When she focuses on me, I notice that the effect is nearly as intoxicating as her tall mate. When she was here the first time, she was so focused on Dace, that the effect was unnoticeable. I can’t help but giggle in delight when they sandwich me between them in a big, suffocating hug.

“Hard to believe you gave birth to twins just weeks ago,” Catherine notes idly, and makes me preen just a bit. Losing much of the weight from the pregnancy and all the bed rest is still a warm point with me. “You look terrific.”

“Thank you.” A glance at the tall woman confirms something that my mind only dimly comprehended the first time. “That’s… new.” The fumbling words are reactions of shock and an almost sick fascination.

“Yeah,” Dace smiles wickedly, and the object shifts with her flesh. “Your daughter and the older twins sort of had that same expression. Gonna be a bitch to explain it to them.”

There is a silver rod, nearly an inch long with balls capping each end, pierced through her flesh at the scar near her temple. Not just the shock of the glittering metal makes me stare, but the rawness of the holes, not quite healed. As if the scar from where Snake-Eyes struck her isn’t obvious enough, here is a glittering piece of jewelry to ensure that the eye is drawn to that spot.

“I see that it works,” Dace purrs, a low, stroking sound, like a warm, fuzzy blanket drawn sensuously over bare skin still sensitive from ecstasy. Once again, I shudder in reaction and both Dace and Karen smile like hungry cats.

I am in so much trouble.

Neither Karen nor I will turn these beloved women away now, even though four wasn’t exactly in the plans. Oh well, I suppose my hormones will have to wait just a bit longer. After Karen speaks with the hostess, we’re spirited away to a ballroom in the back, meant for many times our numbers. The girl stares at Dace while all that leather, sex and attitude swaggers past her.

The pair of helmets and my purse takes up one seat and the tall predators claim two more. Willingly enough, Catherine and I stick to the sides of our women. I watch Dace, still talking Hearts business with Karen, yank detritus from her pockets to be set in a neat pile above her plate. This is obviously a routine she has been painstakingly trained on, as the scatterbrained dear doesn’t strike me as being this conscientious normally. The way Catherine watches her closely is only confirmation. A mass of keys, including some oddly-shaped science-fiction looking shapes, a small wallet, some usual stuff like a tube of lip balm, and a small brick of technology that makes Karen double-take.

“Hey! Fen made you one of her phones?”

Enthusiastically, Dace presses something and the thing unfolds into what appears to be some kind of eighties flashback cell phone. “Yeah, the damn thing’s a brick, but it does enough cool tricks that I can forgive its size. You know me, I despise little teeny phones.”

“Punk,” Karen teases affectionately. “You hate cell phones, period.”

“Well, yeah, but this one’s a whole lotta different shit, so I’ve grown to appreciate it.”

An unobtrusive server takes orders for drinks and some appetizers while Dace explains the fancy little electronic toy that Karen pokes at. “It’s keyed by biometrics, I think Fen called it, so only me and Tess can get it to respond. Something about reading a person’s energy, like a fingerprint. I don’t really understand it, but it works. There’s a miniature computer in there, I’m still getting used to the teeny little keys, see, the back flips open, and there’s several different phone lines that go to this silly thing, so I can get personal and business calls. Truthfully, Tessa still does most of the work.”

Karen smiles indulgently and I still feel some distant tingle of jealousy. “Doesn’t she always?”

“Well, duh, but with me it’s a whole new project for the poor thing. I swear since I walked away from San Francisco, I’ve turned into an ADD monster.”

“That’s because you’ve become yourself again.”

That simple explanation halts Dace’s excitable ramble and she looks thoughtful while Karen gives her arm a squeeze. “Yeah, I forget what a farce I was for so long.” She shrugs uncomfortably, and the shrink part of me watches closely for any morsels of information about this mercurial puzzle. “Made for good police work, but I was like a zombie.” Both hands rub over Dace’s face, scrubbing hard and rubbing at her eyes. “God, but I was an idiot.”

Karen punches her sister hard in the shoulder and smiles serenely at the sour glare. “Yeah, but you got over it, so shut the hell up.”

For a moment, Dace just stays surly, before bursting into delighted laughter. “I knew there was a reason I keep coming back to you, Bane. Someone’s got to keep my attitude in line.” Then the sweetest, most adoringly sappy look is flashed at the uncharacteristically quiet blonde at her side. “Gives you a break sometimes, huh?”

With that invitation, Catherine finally joins in on the odd conversation with a smug grin. “Yeah, well, I suppose it’s a dirty job, but someone has to do it.”


“Damn right.”

Rubbing noses affectionately, the women bonded by genetics prove that there is more between them than necessity. There is love there, and it is more than obvious.

The arrival of our waitress, and a fellow employee, breaks up any further personal conversation. Even these employees, seasoned veterans of the server business, seemed flustered by Dace. We are now fortified with drink and munchies of a high caliber, and the mood turns festive again. Whatever the others are speaking of fades away at the touch of Karen’s hand on my thigh and the sexual need, offset by the surprise of the new arrivals, returns with a vengeance. It buzzes in my ears and hums beneath my skin.

That there is an audience, of sorts, to my torment and need, only seems to heighten the sensations. Karen and I have spoken extensively about this, the arousal that comes with some of the more extreme corners of human sexuality. While my body has been unwilling to indulge in sex, not to mention doctor’s orders, my brain has been as active as always. All of those conversations and kisses haunt me now, with Karen’s hand on my leg, and the weight of knowing blue eyes that I cannot meet.

Some unspoken signal must pass between Dace and Karen, for there is a pause in the rambling conversation, and, as I move to glance up, there is a sudden, unavoidable weight in my lap. What the…?

Jerking my gaze up, one hand groping for the object, I am frozen by blue fire.

When I met Dace, she was a shadow of herself. Broken and bruised, stiff and lame from pain, there was only a hint of what I have met this day. A strong hint, sure, but the full force is startling. In the golden glint of her crystal blue eyes, I feel hunted, my heart pounding wildly, adrenaline like a drug in my veins, my brain screaming for flight or fight.

But this woman won’t hurt me. I know this on a level I cannot explain. Yet, that primitive energy must go somewhere. As though reading my mind, just the corners of Dace’s mouth quirk in a devilish smirk, the kind that makes good girls squirm with dark needs.

And the spark of that fear rushes like liquid to my groin and all erogenous zones there and beyond.

Truthfully, I gasp as though I’ve been running, my hand now fully wrapped around the object pushed almost painfully into my crotch. Even as my upper brain tries once again to wrest control from the drooling primitive brain, I realize what I am touching.

It’s Dace’s boot. Cool chains press into my palm, and there is a strip of leather around the back of her heel, where my fingers grip. There are the heavy wrinkles of leather against the webbing between my thumb and forefinger, and the pad of my thumb. Her body heat radiates through even that heavy material, and I nearly cry out when she flexes her ankle, just that tiny bit.

All I can think of is Karen’s stories. Of how Dace came by these things, what she has done to women with them. Karen had gone into loving detail of the boot-fucking that she gave Jo back in Chicago, only hours before Snake-Eyes attacked Fenris and then Dace.

I’m ready to enact my own version of those mental images, and only the reappearance of our server saves my dignity. Without losing that smirk, Dace sits up just a bit, so that the hard sole is not pressing into me so heavily, but the boot remains tucked up between my thighs.

"So, you been cleared by your doc?" The casually asked question in Dace's distinctive low tone makes me blush. "Yeah, sorry one more time for interrupting your date, guys." Must be a gift to make an apology sound so… leering. The young man setting a glass of water beside my plate actually pauses, and the humor of that cracks some of the paralysis. A glower from Dace sends him scurrying away and I actually chuckle.

"Leave the poor pup alone," Catherine chastises lightly, making Dace pout and cross her arms over her chest. Now I actually have to laugh, as she bears such a striking resemblance to the children in this moment. A slow grin is my reward, but neither of us can forget the boot in my lap, despite our lightheartedness.

Do I dare really join in on this bantering? Should I bait this clever predator?

"There are too many people in that house to get away with anything anyway."

Guess I am.

Once more, Dace smiles evilly, and I gasp softly at the caress of the boot sole. "Sounds like a hell of a challenge, eh Bane?" Together, they cackle, and I have to wonder if Karen knows what her sister is doing beneath the table. "Are you saying that you're noisy, Darya?" Oh god… that darkly knowing, coaxing tone splashes through me and drips lower…

Another gentle, but firm prod unlocks my nervous vocal chords. "Sometimes."

"Only sometimes?"

I can't help it, reaching down again to grab the foot tormenting me, digging my fingers into the unforgiving leather. At this point, I really can't decide if I want her to get me off, or if I want to shove the offending limb away.

"Karen's the best at what she does, hmm?"

I saw hints of this in February, gleaned more information from Karen's stories, from phone calls with Dace and her pack, from the knowledge of what kind of people they all are. Some of the best sex I've ever had was in concert to the tales, and even reenactments of past scenes of Karen's. After so many months of complete disinterest in sex, I'm shocked at how wet and swollen I am, squirming in my seat like a naughty little girl.

It's not until our meals arrive that the boot leaves my personal space, Dace straightening up properly in her seat, acting as though nothing odd were going on. Conversation runs the gamut of topics and emotional levels. From charming to leering to sweet, Dace plays the emotional scales expertly, and I'm not entirely certain how to react to her. Truthfully, no one has ever had quite this effect on my sensitivities before, and she seems as aware of them as I, never pushing too far.

But getting awfully close.

So, good food, good company, my long-dormant libido awake like a hungry bear after hibernating the winter away; I'm wound up and satiated at the same time. Eventually, my yawning becomes noticeable and Karen nuzzles my neck, making me giggle. "Time to head home, eh?" Blearily, I rest my head on her shoulder as she lifts her head to address our companions. "You guys okay to drive?"

Dace chuckles warmly and gestures her glass at us. "Designated. Been virgin all night."

We all laugh at the comment, Karen snorting, "Not bloody likely." Affectionately smacking at her sister, she continues in a more serious tone. "Where are you staying? You need a place to crash? It's getting pretty late."

Waving off the concern, Dace stands to gallantly offer a hand to her mate. "The rest of the pack is back in Denver. We'll be okay. This is the middle of the workday for me." That disarming grin once more makes me catch my breath. "It'll be tomorrow that will test my stamina. Setting this shindig during daylight hours was harsh."

While the taller women help Catherine and myself to our feet and gather their things, they bitch good-naturedly at one another, cracking me up. The comedy routine lasts all the way to our car, where I am treated to enveloping hugs that make me sigh happily. Both Karen and I watch them walk away, Dace playfully poking Catherine in the ribs, the two of them moving like a single entity.

"Damn, it's good to see her almost normal," Karen sighs wistfully, and I smile lovingly at my wife, our family forgotten for now. There is promise in the meeting of our gazes and I smile coyly.

"Take me home, stud."

Chuckling, Karen climbs into the car, and we're headed back to the homestead. The drain of the long night and the long pregnancy are catching up to me, making me yawn until my eyes water. I try, I really do, but I'm sound asleep before we leave the parking lot.

To Be Continued…