sorrowandsorrow | 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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"Yeah," Janet says, suddenly and very briefly breathless with distraction. She gets over it pretty quick, reaching behind herself to unknot her own bikini top and toss it to hang over the side of the shower. "Last time I fucked someone immediately, it eventually turned out kind of bad. I'm not suggesting a lot of waiting -- trust me, I'm not." She laughs, then kicks off the bottom half of her bathing suit and chucks it in the same direction as the top. "But a little anticipation isn't the worst thing in the world."

"Anticipation can be quite invigorating," Susan agrees. She's definitely distracted. She reaches over and gives one of Janet's breasts a light, friendly squeeze - more a hello! than anything, lifting her gaze to meet Janet's. With a wicked sort of grin, she adds, "And I see I've got a lot to anticipate."

Janet snorts out a laugh; not that there was a lot of tension, but this helps break what was left, and makes it easier to settle her hands at Susan's hips, right where her waist curves. "Very flattering, Your Majesty, but if this is a contest of which of us is the most well-endowed, the crown goes, again, to you." She squeezes Susan's waist to punctuate the point. "Only in a literal sense, of course. Fillory's treasuries are overflowing. Probably."

"With you as Queen? I have no doubt," says Susan. She moves her hand to Janet's shoulder. "All the better to support our treaty."

"Let's not forget to grace the document with our signatures later," Janet says, managing one last affectation of imperiousness before she pulls Susan in and kisses her again. She could crowd her up against the wall, but the tiles would be cold and Janet's not exactly feeling cruel in that particular way. This is better, the two of them pressed lightly together, all these little points of contact under the steam and heat of the water.

Susan moves her hand further still, to the back of Janet's head. Kissing Janet is easy, significantly easier than she thought it might be. She keeps this kiss light but intent, slick, leaning into it.

The lightness of this kiss lets Janet smile into it, with a low hum of approval that's edging on a laugh. She keeps kissing Susan, spreading her fingers along her sides, and steers them both more directly under the water -- avoiding getting their hair too wet, of course. She's not a monster. It's a good feeling, the rest of the chlorine washing away as Susan's mouth catches on her own again and again.

They kiss for what feels like ages, until the water starts to cool and Susan squirms away from it. In truth, it's a good interruption: she's on the verge of tripping over from anticipation to pressing for more. She's breathless when she pulls away. "Well."

"Shit." Janet's close to laughing again, slightly stupid with arousal and her own breathlessness. "So I think I want a second date."

"Do you!" Susan's smiling as she leans in - pressing her entire body against Janet's in the process - to turn off the increasingly-chilly water. "I suppose I'm amenable."

"Mmhmm." Janet watches her, blatantly appreciative of the view, of how Susan's nipples have hardened with the cold. "Next time, you pick the activity." Getting increasingly chilly with the water off, she steps out of the shower and grabs her robe to bundle it back around herself.

"Would it be gauche to suggest an opening sortie against the men of the Mansion?" Susan asks. She grabs a towel on her way out of the shower, wrapping it around her shoulders. "I've been looking forward to hustling them for ages." Putting a hand on Janet's arm, she waggles her eyebrows and adds, "I find victory to be a most bracing sort of foreplay."

"If it's gauche, slap a live laugh love bumper sticker on me and call me tacky, because I'm on board." Janet smirks at her. "Don't let me deter you from any activity that gets you hot and bothered in my presence."

Susan hasn't the foggiest idea what a live, laugh, love bumper sticker might be, so she just smirks back at Janet. "Excellent."

"Hey." Janet stops for a second, because she'd wanted to say thanks, but that's not one of those words that comes out of her mouth easily. Instead, she leans in for one more kiss, a firm one, hoping it'll speak for her. "See you soon," she says, and then she tucks her hair back behind her ears and goes, so that she's the one leaving.

"Well," Susan remarks to her empty bathroom, pleased. "That was most interesting."

Closed Post: #SelfCare

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