sorrowandsorrow | Closed Post: #SelfCare

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Closed Post: #SelfCare

Eat your heart out, Castle Whitespire. Eat your heart out, Eliot Waugh. Janet doesn't need any of you, because she found this stupid mansion's stupid Jacuzzi all by herself. In the aftermath of the zombie uprising (by the way: what the fuck?), she must have been putting out some kind of extra desperation, caked in sweat and zombie dust and the dirt of the mansion's grounds, because as she stomped down the hallway to her bedroom, something told her to open a door. And she did. And there it was.

It was fucking glorious, and she was too selfish to wait that time, but she has a date to set up. Susan will find a neon orange Post-It stuck to the door of her room this morning that says: Found it. Meet me at seven o'clock tonight, third door on the right when you hang a left past that ugly chandelier with the swans. --J

She even doodled a little crown symbol over the letter to make her point clear.

When Susan does make her way to the room with the hot tub, she'll see Janet in a black bikini with a glass of prosecco in one hand, another frosty glass sitting on the tiles next to her hand. With that hand, she's propping herself up as she takes a sip. Her legs are dangling into the Jacuzzi already, but she hasn't switched on the jets yet.

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Janet shuts her eyes for a minute, smiling and arching her shoulders back into that touch like a cat. "Mm. You know what, I think you might be right. Damn, we're good." She lets herself drift, mouth to Susan's cheek and then to her throat just below her ear.

Susan tilts her head, granting Janet easier access. The water makes everything feel more surreal, more floaty. "The Marsh-wiggles might object, but they always do," she says, moving her hand down Janet's spine, her touches soft but sure.

Janet huffs an incredulous little breath somewhere around the slope where Susan's neck turns into shoulder. "I'm not saying stop," she says, "but I am saying, what the hell is a Marsh-wiggle?"

Susan snorts, but she shivers, too; Janet's exhale has tickled her. "They're these horrid little frog-men," she says. "Excellent fisherfolk, sometimes useful in a navy, but terrible company. Very fatalistic and morose, as a rule."

"Huh." Janet smiles for a second, then drops an open-mouthed kiss right above Susan's collarbone. With the hand at the nape of her neck, she pets absently at a few of the damp, stray locks of hair there. "Not so sure Fillory is interested in that export."

"I can think of better emissaries," Susan agrees. Her hand is at the small of Janet's back; she uses this as leverage to pull Janet a little closer. She likes Janet's mouth on her chest, but she wants hers to be occupied too, so she dips her head, nudging Janet with a kiss to the temple, and then working her way down. She gives a light, experimental tug to Janet's earlobe with her teeth.

"Oh," Janet says, surprising herself with the reaction. There's another laugh, then, lower. She tips her head up and turns to yank Susan into another kiss, just a quick but decisive one, lips parted still around that laugh. "I wasn't sure if you... okay, don't get me wrong. I knew you were into me. But I didn't know if you were, you know. Shen Yuan-ing yourself."

Susan pauses, and blinks. "Shen Yuan-ing myself?" She plays back through their earlier conversation. "In which respect?"

"Oh, the deep denial about the gay thing." Janet drums her fingers along the back of Susan's neck, amused at the thought. "I mean, not in such a stupid way, but I know it can be... weird. For a lot of people."

"Oh, no," Susan says, lips quirking. "I've known for years." It's true, but certainly not the whole truth. This doesn't feel like the space for talking about it, though: her confidence in coupling, but her difficulty in putting a name to it around all but her closest friends. Ingrid knew. Miriam obviously knew. Some of the closer or more like-minded members of their inner circle of friends, too. Edmund saw, when he stopped by for the book. They'd talked around it, but never about it. Maybe there will be a time, later, when Susan will be able to talk to Janet about all this, but right now she's having fun kissing a beautiful woman.

"Hmm." Janet pretends to think about this, then shrugs, with her own mouth curling into something between a smile and a smirk. "Makes my life easier." With that, she tugs Susan into another kiss; now that she's felt it out a little, this one is even more certain, turning open-mouthed faster.

Susan responds in kind, angling into the kiss, grazing Janet's lower lip lightly with her teeth. She spreads the hand she has on the small of Janet's back and drags it back up, slowly. The touch is made easy by the water and by the smoothness of Janet's skin.

God, this really does feel so good, in a way that's almost uncomplicated enough to make Janet nervous. She'll deal with that later. For now she's pretty content, bordering on happy, to shiver into Susan's touch, to kiss her, long and heated and exploratory, and to tighten the grip she has on her hand.

After a few minutes of this, Susan drops her hand from Janet's back to the top of the leg Janet hooked around her. She spreads her fingers wide, then leaves them there. It's more to brace herself than a move with intent, but she doesn't mind if Janet interprets the touch differently, especially since she pairs the move with a deepening of the kiss. She's sinking into this feeling. It's been a while since she's just flirted and had genuine fun with someone, but then, Janet has consistently made Susan want to live up to being the woman she was before all her loss. And all of that feels so terribly far away, right now. There's a light buzz of prosecco in Susan's veins, and while her fingertips are getting wrinkly from the water, it adds another layer to the fun of touching someone else.

Her other leg is getting pin and needles, though, so she shifts a little to keep it from falling asleep... and edges back into one of the jets. She yelps against Janet's mouth in surprise and - to her own astonishment - starts to laugh.

"What the f--"

Janet laughs, too, surprised and fiercely, quietly proud to have heard this sound coming out of Susan's mouth. As if on cue, about five seconds later, the timer on the Jacuzzi controls finally runs out and the jets turn off completely, like that was their last act of defiance before death. "Jesus," she says, a little giddy and letting her forehead bump companionably against Susan's before, finally, disentangling their fingers. She drops her other hand from the back of Susan's neck, but only to cup her shoulder instead. "You're technically not supposed to have booze before you get in one of these. Or make out in one, but that's like jaywalking. Everybody does it."

"Leading me astray, your majesty?" Susan doesn't land the arch tone she's aiming for; her voice is too thick with amusement. She runs her hand up Janet's arm to her shoulder, and then smooths back the hair over Janet's ear.

"As astray as possible," Janet agrees, affecting smugness and layering it over her own delighted amusement. She gives Susan's shoulder a quick squeeze, then reaches for the mostly-empty bottle of prosecco. "Split the rest?" Before Susan can answer, Janet takes a swig straight from the bottle.

"Gladly," Susan says. Once Janet has finished her swig, Susan swipes the bottle and downs what she can of the rest.

"That's the spirit." Janet slings a grin her way. "Shit, I'm turning into a prune." With a little reluctance, she hauls herself out of the tub, just to sit on the edge again, feet still in the water. The relatively cool air of the room is soothing after all that time in the heat, and so she unceremoniously flops backward along the tiles.

Susan climbs out, too; her head is starting to spin a little, more from the heat and the kissing than from the drink. She places the bottle next to Janet's head - there's half a swallow left - and then sits down next to Janet, watching her, taking in the rise and fall of her chest, the cut of her bikini, the eddy of water around her ankles.

"Thanks." Janet props herself up on her elbows to grab the bottle and polishes off that final swallow, then sets the now-empty bottle down with a decisive clink on the floor. She tips her head toward Susan, half-smiling, returning the heat of her gaze. "I assume you're sold on the concept of Jacuzzis now. See why I wanted one for my castle?"

Susan smiles, easy and flirtatious. "I would have to insist on one for my own, now," she says. "I'm sure there would be a way. Perhaps if the dwarfs and naiads worked together."

"Fuck yes." Janet's smile lingers as she watches Susan. "I was going to make the dwarves build one, and then force Eliot to figure out some kind of spell with me to do the jets. Asking the naiads is a pretty good idea, too."

"When you haven't got magic, you work with your raw material resources," Susan says, nodding solemnly, and if she affects a bit of a pose as she says it, well then, she's feeling playful.

In answer, Janet lets her own expression turn mock-solemn, assessing. It gives her a good excuse to drag her gaze slowly up along Susan's whole body, from her legs to her stupidly beautiful face. "If I were a naiad and you asked me to make you a Jacuzzi, I have to admit, I think I'd probably do it. Call me a sucker."

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