Title: Jubilee and Fifty-Foot Janine
Fandom: Baby Sitters Club/X-Men
Notes: Although not actually written for annakovsky's BSC ficathon, it was inspired by it. I would have used cut tags but it made the formatting rather daunting.
Jubilee has been watching the new girl for weeks, ever since she arrived at the Massachusetts Academy, and all she's really determined is that Janine is very... self-contained. Like a potato. There are parts of her--most of her, Jubilee would bet, and Jubilee has a head for odds that really only LeBeau ever noticed, and he keeps his own cards close--that no one has ever, ever seen, and if you put her in the microwave, she'd probably explode. Metaphorically. The microwave, that is, although also the explosion. Jubilee isn't sure what happens if you microwave actual people although she's fairly sure she doesn't want to find out--
"You're exactly like my sister," Janine mutters. Even her muttering is so precise you could probably use it for voice recognition software.
"What? I'm just sitting here." Jubilee manages to stop the still faintly strawberry-flavored bubble before it stretches past her lips. "I'm doing homework. I am working to improve my mind. I am thinking of the future--"
"You haven't turned a page in twenty minutes," says Janine, and Jubilee can't quite figure out how anyone can be blankly sardonic, but there you are. If M had said it, it would just have been bitchy, but Janine doesn't look mad, or overwhelmed by her own comparative maturity. Just--bemused, even if that's definitely on the list of Words Jubilee Doesn't Use Out Loud. Actually, maybe even chagrined now, which doesn't make a lot of sense.
Except no, now: furrowed, as in brow, as in what the hell?
"Is that me?" And she's leaning over the table for a better view of the book that no, Jubilee hasn't actually been reading, per se, not if you want to get all technical about it.
"Uh," says Jubilee, brilliantly.
Cartoon Janine is stomping cartoon M into the ground in the manner of a Buffy-esque slayer versus slayer battle to the death, with the added embellishment of cartoon Janine's distinctly sexy librarian cast. The boobs really aren't even caricatured; Janine's got a pretty substantial rack for an Asian chick. Not that Jubilee is jealous. No sir. Hell, she's used to it. When she was with the X-Men--
"Well, the shoes are very unrealistic," Janine determines.
"You can get shoes like that at the mall in Westchester," Jubilee argues. "They're not even specialty."
"I meant for me. I. um. I fall down."
"...Dude. You're smiling. It's not, like, visible to the naked eye or anything, but--"
"...Well, not anymore."
"Well, I don't know why everybody thinks I'm so humorless."
"Aw, no, I mean, we just figure you have, like, stuff on your mind, right? I mean, okay, maybe the rest of us just aren't very funny. You're a genius, I'm sure we seem slow--"
"Half the rooms in the freshman dorms had that poster of Einstein sticking his tongue out--why is it so hard to believe I have a sense of humor?! You drew me chasing M around the library with a stake in my hand and I still look grim!"
"...Could you keep making that face? It's, like, wicked fierce."
The smile is definitely gone. At this point, Janine might make a pretty decent department store mannequin. Like, the kind that comes to life in horror movies.
"I'm going to my room. Where I will read something dull, or perhaps stare at the ceiling while doing calculus in my head for fun."
And she must really be mad, because that's it, end of discussion. The library has those swinging doors that can't, actually, slam, but somehow Janine gives the impression anyway.
"It's my room, too," Jubilee complains to the empty library, and it's kind of weird the way all the books manage to look reproachful.
Fortunately, her cartoons were never going to score high on realism anyway; she really doesn't have a lot to work from for Happy Fun Time Janine. There's that face she's been making the few times Jubilee has caught her doing serious computer shit, like, the kind of coding where Janine might as well be sitting there sweet-talking machine language to the mainframe, but that's really more like Janine Looked Upon the Face of God and Lo, God Was Sexy, and Verily Did Wear Leather, which makes walking in on Janine coding pretty embarrassing in an appealing sort of way. She's found herself wondering if Janine's ever touched a person like that; okay, she's a genius, but it's actually easier to imagine than Janine kicking back, playing video games or something--anything with pictures, really, something other than ones and zeros--and laughing--people on TV have painful-looking orgasms all the time. And then, Paige and Jono blew up the dorm. That was intense.
And Janine is intense. "Intense" is Janine's word the way "hyperactive" belongs to Jubilee and no other. This came up when the decision was made to room them together, as she recalls; Sean wasn't sure about it but Frosty just pointed out that it wasn't like she didn't drive everyone else up the wall and Paige's "leadership tendencies" just... "exacerbated the problem." Translation: Paige tries to push her around and Jubilee just pushes back, with sparks, and Paige has been involved in enough demolitions around here.
Janine doesn't push. She asks, politely, when some people have never been able to distinguish between manners and contempt since Jubilee met them, and okay, sometimes she heaves these little put-upon sighs, but that's usually after the fourth time she's asked Jubilee, politely, to stop kicking the bed, she's trying to read. And then Jubilee feels bad and really tries to stop kicking. Anyway, she's getting better about it, a lot of it was just habits she got into living with Paige. Who pushed.
So now she's in the library with her headphones on so she can concentrate, listening to really happy songs so she can try to imagine Janine cracking up. Like, in a good and happy way. Pizzicato Five are even from Japan, like Janine, indirectly. Which actually gives Jubilee an idea. And who wouldn't be happy to be fighting Godzilla? Isn't this the fondest wish of every mutant in their secret heart? Okay, Janine's mutation is, like, a brain thing, something like what the Hankster has aside from being gi-normous and, ever since Jubilee has known him, blue and furry, but if she were fifty feet tall that would even the odds some, wouldn't it?
Except that she's pretty sure Godzilla can breathe fire or something, so she also gives Janine laser eyes. Which, come to think of it, would definitely make any reasonable person happy, if they weren't already overcome with joy about going one-on-one with Godzilla. She considers the shoes for a moment and then pencils in the margin, built by Forge for super balance with an arrow for clarification, because Janine may be high heel-impaired here in reality, but they really make the outfit, you know? Inspired, she adds, also poison-tipped. Godzilla is going down.
Cartoon Janine is laughing, not crazy mad scientist laughing or anything; that might make her mad again--although Jubilee had a fun idea for a Frankenstein scene; maybe next time, if Janine seems cool about it--no, fifty-foot Janine is just laughing, because she's fighting Godzilla with her laser eyes and she has the technology to stay upright in some bitchin' poison-tipped dominatrixy boots and there is a troupe of comparatively tiny ninjas rappelling down Godzilla's rough reptilian belly. They work for fifty-foot Janine.
She labels it, with a flourish, Gojira VS Fifty-Foot Janine. Because hey, she knows her Japanese B-movies, if nothing else.
She lays the drawing, all off-center and casual-like, atop Janine's sleek PowerBook, which lies closed on her surprisingly cluttered desk. Of course, it's still organized--Jubilee blinks. The piles appear to be color-coordinated. Well, that's just incredibly... the kind of thing Jubilee does when she's bored, actually. Exhibit A: The impressive lines of her nail polish collection on the bureau, lined up like little segregated soldiers, and really, it's not like she wouldn't be able to find the hot pink(s) if, by some cruel twist of fate, it ended up mixed in with the blues. Hmmm. Hot pink. Not a bad idea.
But anyway, it occurs to Jubilee as she flops down across her bed and starts brushing on the base coat, maybe Janine's not enjoying her solitude as much as she'd assumed. Or spending all that time doing calculus in her head. Which is... uncomfortable, but also a little reassuring. Maybe Janine doesn't mind having her around as much as she'd assumed, either. She'd just figured, like, who wants to go to Mutant High and get saddled with a hyperactive roommate who's barely passing chemistry when apparently you were taking all the advanced pre-med courses before you were legal to drive. Plasma bursts probably aren't that impressive if you know how to build a bomb with a bag of flour and a stick of gum or whatever--
The door opens.
"Um. Hi." Janine directs the greeting somewhere halfway between Jubilee and the opposite wall, and the resultant shiftiness combined with the typical Marian Librarian quality of her ensemble--for the first week she was here, Jubilee just assumed she was some kind of truly severe emo girl; what other explanation could there possibly be, but no--has the interesting effect of making her look like a film noire clip. At any moment she could pull a pearl-handled .22 from her delicate leather handbag, excepting the fact that Janine doesn't generally carry a handbag. She's more of an overloaded tattered backpack kind of person; she's just too hard on them to keep them as neat as her clothes--
"I'm sorry about... earlier," Janine says to the floor, and the aura of danger has passed; she just looks shy and a little sad.
"Hey," says Jubilee, shaking her base coat and wishing that someone had shaken her before she opened her big stupid mouth and ruined what had been a very friendly moment in the library, just two girls commiserating about shoes, but no, she had to go and, like, accuse Janine of impending Cat Ladyhood, "don't worry about it--"
"What--?" Janine blinks down at the sketch currently decorating her PowerBook. The silence stretches into a horribly present thing entirely capable of taking on Godzilla and maybe even fifty-foot Janine and maybe she should just throw herself on the carpet and promise to stop being an idiot, really, okay, she hasn't done such a great job so far but she can change, really, she'll start by not trying to "fix" things--and Janine starts to laugh. Not an appropriately demure schoolgirl's laugh, either; this is a full-throated cackle, the laugh of a witch who knows how to have a good time, spiraling up and out until it fills the room like a flock of winged monkeys elbowing for breathing space.
"I'm fighting Godzilla!" Janine informs the ceiling, and okay, it's not totally a shout, because it's still Janine and Janine is considerate of others who might be trying to study or sleep, even at 8 pm, but it's definitely a few decibels above her normal settings. The cackle has died down to irregular hiccupped giggles and she's holding Jubilee's little sketch like it leads to pirate gold.
"Hey," grins Jubilee, sinking into the bed with such enormous relief that she feels like she might at any moment manifest a previously latent ability to phase and just keep sinking, "like, every mutant's fondest wish, right?"
And Janine cracks up again, dropping the cartoon back on her desk and leaning against it herself, just giggling uncontrollably, and Jubilee's not sure if she's just discovered kryptonite or penicillin. She shakes the bottle of hot pink polish meditatively as she considers the scene. Janine, back under control except for the occasional shiver of unvocalized laughter, picks up the sketch again and wanders over to Jubilee on the bed, kicking off her loafers and sitting down. It is so deliberately casual it is truly bizarre; Janine has never wandered anywhere in this building or any other on the grounds since she got here. Jubilee remembers wondering if Frosty had given her a floor plan or something.
"Wow," says Janine, peering down at Jubilee's left hand, primly positioned on the night stand with a tissue under it; Jubilee has few illusions about her own powers of precision. "That's... really pink."
"It's called 'Jamaica Me Crazy,'" Jubilee tells her.
"You're making that up."
"No, really." Jubilee lightly coats her left pinky nail and offers up the bottle.
"Who comes up with these?"
"Beats me. Some companies just number 'em. Kinda boring. But I guess it can't be, like, a full-time job. I mean, they make a lotta different colors, but not enough for a 40-hour work week comin' up with silly names. Maybe they let the chemists do it, like people name roses or whatever when they breed 'em."
"I don't think I could come up with that." Wistful.
"I don't think not thinking of 'Jamaica Me Crazy' is really a personality flaw or anything."
"I thought I was going to be different here," says Janine after a moment.
"Well, it is Mutant High--"
"No. I thought I was going to be different, which was silly. I'm still--being a mutant didn't change things, either. Same old Genius Janine. Just--extra freaksome. I got new glasses before I came here; I--I didn't get a new me."
"Excuse me." Jubilee waves a hot pink nail sternly. "Fifty-foot Janine. Now with ninja grip action. And your glasses are super cute. Very retro Bettie Page."
"...That doesn't make any sense. Do I grip ninjas? Do ninjas grip for me? Do I have some grip that has about it the ineffable quality of ninja? ...Um. You really like them?"
"Dude. They're hot. Not, like, Frosty's Mistress of Pain spring collection or anything, but, you know. Subtle sexy. You wanna paint your nails? I got some ninja-y black in here somewhere. Left over from my goth phase. I know it's hard to picture."
"Well. Um. Maybe... dark red? If I'm going with the Bettie Page look..."
"It's a color, I got it in here somewhere... Aha! Yeah, baby, yeah--Vixen. Also kinda goth, but on you: total Bettie Page. It's all about the context, y'know? Here, do a base coat first."
"I'm. um. My motor control is... lacking... for this sort of endeavor. I... borrowed some from my sister once and the effect was rather embarrassingly amateurish."
"Oh, yeah, it takes some practice. I guess I can give you a freebie, just the once, okay. Don't get used to it or anything, I seriously don't have the patience to be a manicurist. Put your hand on the nightstand over here--yeah, on the tissue, I mean, it shouldn't be a problem, painting other people's nails is always easier but I'm not giving you a hundred percent no smudge guarantee, okay? Somebody could, like, blow up the dorm easy. That totally breaks my concentration."
Janine's hand is really soft. Okay, so coding probably doesn't build a lot of calluses, but after seeing how fast her fingers move on the keyboard when she's on a roll, Jubilee wouldn't be too surprised if she got windburn or something--but seriously, really soft, like she's been taking little lotion breaks at the computer or sleeping with them smeared in Vaseline and wrapped, like Jubilee actually did her first New England winter, back at the mansion, when it was so cold outside she thought she was going to die and the central heating pretty much mummified her right into the Lizard Queen.
"Jubilee?" Great, now she's gone all slack-jawed and drooling and Janine is obviously wondering if she needs electroshock or something and this is really not something Jubilee wants to explain, but--
"What kind of moisturizer do you use?" --but sometimes even Jubilee can't babble fast enough to override whatever stupid thing she's really thinking.
"Oh. um. I've been working on a new formula. I'm sure it's not dangerous, but the paperwork for animal subjects is so arduous, I've been using myself as a test subject. It's really better this way, I think; experimental conditions are almost indistinguishable from those in the field, although of course the true test will be the winter months--"
"You're making beauty products?"
"I thought it might be a good way to provide for my parents in their old age. Or perhaps to fund my university education, as my particular mutation seems to disqualify me for most scholarships based on academic merit. The market is relatively open to new brands and the profit margin--"
"Your hands are really soft," Jubilee blurts, wondering if saying it will at least get it out of her brain. It seems like the kind of thing that should be easy to ignore, or more like just overlook, like there's air in the room and it's Saturday--she shouldn't feel compelled to think about it constantly in detail the way she can't stop thinking about Janine's hand, which she is, look at that, kind of holding, the base coat still sitting unopened on the nightstand.
"I guess, um. I--I guess the formula is um. Effective."
Jubilee's mouth feels excruciatingly dry and it's only September. What she's going to do about it in January when the central heat is going at full blast with no end in sight, she has no idea; you can't exactly rub Vaseline on your palate--
And oh. Janine's mouth is really soft, too, and Jubilee wonders if even she believes that she didn't realize Janine was leaning in for this, although actually it seems entirely possible that Janine didn't know. It looked like there was a little flash of surprise in her eyes right before her lips landed on Jubilee's, but if there's one thing Jubilee learned with the X-Men, it's that sometimes people just surprise themselves with what they're willing and able to do, and didn't Janine tell her just last week that the best coders have to have intuition?
Jubilee's never seen her wear make-up but she had a feeling that Janine might have a little chapstick fetish, and yeah, she tastes faintly of cherry mint, which is good in this weird way where it kind of reminds Jubilee of some over-the-counter cough syrup her parents used to give her when she was little. Janine's hair smells like some unapologetically generic shampoo, almost, but not quite, entirely unlike apples... and okay, this is all really unabashedly chemical but Jubilee has hot pink fingernails and a day-glo wardrobe and 13 years in California ultimately gave her a very low tolerance for "all natural."
It's somehow oddly hot to be kissing the poster girl for the internet, like Idoru or something--which she's pretty sure even Frosty doesn't know she's read--only not a hologram or a robot or a stream of code buried inside the internet; Janine is real and there. Her mouth is really soft, and hot, like some heavy flower blooming in the rainforest and when Jubilee leans up and sucks on her tongue a little, yeah, that's flesh. Maybe Janine hoped she'd be a different person here but Jubilee is thinking she likes her just fine the way she is.
"Oh. God. Oh. I'm--sorry." Janine jerks back wild-eyed and no, absolutely not, this way lies madness and exploded dorms. Jubilee has pinpointed the problem and it is everybody thinking too much. Including her, probably.
"Please," she says, and it comes out lower and slower than almost everything else she says, somehow, maybe because, okay, she's admitting to herself what she's been trying to cover or skip with all the static. Let's face it, she wasn't watching Janine all these weeks because she was an interesting object of study--everybody here is interesting in their many freaky ways. Paige is interesting, if you like the culture of the adolescent American over-achiever. No, don't think about Paige, she thinks too much and things get exploded.
"Don't stop," she says very clearly. Okay, maybe a little below normal volume but she really doesn't want to take a time-out to explain this to anybody, not least because Janine still looks like she's ready to bolt. Of course, she also looks like she could almost be wearing make-up even though Jubilee knows she's not--
"Your mouth is all red," she mumbles, and is there no filter on her brain? But Janine just chuffs a little, like it might almost be a laugh if she didn't need the air--
"Well, all cosmetics are ultimately based in the simulation of sexual arousal." She sounds like she's answering a test question, all calm and reasonable, but her cheeks have gone practically the color of Jubilee's nails and her mouth is all red and wet and--
"My parents--" Janine takes a deep breath. "Are going to think I am engaging in late onset adolescent rebellion. I think they suspected as much when they discovered that I was a mutant, but this--"
"Please don't give them details," Jubilee blurts. A little shriek of laughter, verging on hysterical, escapes Janine's half-parted lips.
"I was in so much trouble for sneaking out with a boy--"
"You had to sneak out with a boy?"
Okay, maybe they can pretend to be Bible study partners, although growing up in SoCal didn't exactly lay strong groundwork for that particular charade. Paige could probably coach her--Jubilee is willing to bet that evolution is not featured in the Kentucky public schools, although maybe she shouldn't say that to Paige if she's going to her for help--
"Well. I--they were just so concerned. My sister is three years younger than me and she was expressing interest in boys--I could tell they were waiting and wondering all the time and I was afraid--if it didn't work out, then I was a failure. Not just a suspiciously late bloomer. I just wanted a trial run. So. The trouble was for the sneaking out, I suppose. They were quite happy about the boy."
"Did you..." Jubilee isn't sure she wants to hear the answer to this question. They always say on those courtroom drama TV shows that you should never ask a question unless you already know the answer, and not only does she not know the answer to this one, she's not sure how to interpret a large range of the answers Janine might possibly give.
"Did I what?"
"Well, I mean. um. The boy. Did you--did you, um, like him?"
"Oh." Janine blinks. "Well--yes. I did. Um. I. um. I--I like you, too. In, um... a more reckless way, I think." She blinks again, several times and fast, and looks very intensely at the bedspread, away from Jubilee.
"Hey," says Jubilee, softly, and covers the other girl's hand, still splayed out on the nightstand, with her own again. "I like you, too. And I guess maybe I'm a little reckless--"
"Spontaneous," says Janine in her correcting voice, the one she stopped using for grammar, at least on Jubilee, after less than 24 hours as roommates--there was a short speech on 'prestige dialects' which was actually pretty interesting, the way she was so obviously thinking down strange new paths even as she spoke--
"Pure," she says, and she's doing it again, working it all out in her head as she goes along. "I watched you training one day--you were like a spring, perfectly contained and aimed, and when you struck there was no wasted energy, no holding back--"
Well, that's got to be an opening if ever there was one, and at least Janine is finally looking at her again: straight deep stare right into her eyes like she could code Jubilee from the inside out. She doesn't flinch when Jubilee leans up, just hitches her breath once, sharply, and then her eyes flutter shut as Jubilee latches onto her mouth and slides her remaining free hand into that neat 50s pin-up pageboy.
Janine's hair is soft, too, and Jubilee wonders briefly if she's also testing experimental shampoo--knowing Janine, it'll give you Rapunzel hair or something in 30 days or your money back--but then Janine whimpers a little and twists in a jerky sexy cotton shimmy against Jubilee's chest and the pressure of the other girl's breasts on her own sparks at her nipples. She catches Janine's lower lip--gently--between her teeth, and then runs her tongue along it; Janine makes a high little mewling sound and then her tongue is stroking Jubilee's palate, which is definitely not dry anymore, and Jubilee whines a little and finds that she's thrusting helplessly against Janine in a manner that she's pretty sure would scare off anyone who was still having issues about this whole girl-fucking thing, so either Janine is committed or she's really just not thinking about it--
Okay, Janine thigh shoved between her legs right where she wants it, and that feels a whole lot like 'committed' to her. She squirms against it enthusiastically, her nipples tightening further against Janine's as the corresponding motion of her torso makes her even more aware of the weight of the other girl's breasts. Janine nibbles on her lower lip and slips a hand under her crop-top, no big deal, it's cut high and loose anyway--and then her fingers slide up under Jubilee's sports bra, and she's rubbing her thumb firmly over Jubilee's left nipple.
"Oh," Jubilee gasps, and then, "oh, oh, oh," and this is worse than the usual babbling but now Janine's pinching her nipple between thumb and forefinger and twisting gently and just kind of rubbing their mouths together and everything is hot and wet and if the dorm exploded right now Jubilee doesn't think she'd notice unless it touched her nipple, because that is definitely where she's focused--that and Janine's leg still pressed firmly into her crotch. She slides her hand out of Janine's hair so fast that she probably pulls a little too hard, but the noise Janine makes doesn't exactly sound disapproving: a little airless shriek followed by a full-body arch against Jubilee. She tugs Janine's her blouse out of the plaid skirt it's been so neatly tucked into--and hey, buttons. Not so easy to unfasten when Janine's moved to her right nipple but while the left one stays plenty hot and bothered just chafing against her bra, but she gets them, and Janine is wearing a front-closure bra. It really couldn't get any more convenient.
Jubilee pops it open, and just looks at Janine's bare breasts for a moment, rubbing her thumb over the other girl's lips to make up for breaking the kiss. Janine's nipples are hard already, dark against the relatively pale skin of her breasts, and Jubilee figures she might as well go for what she wants at this point and leans forward and takes one in her mouth. She barely grazes it with her teeth--careful, not much pressure--and then sucks, flicking her tongue across it. Janine's making this careful, repetitive little moan that sounds like a very short porn clip on loop: "Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ahhhhhhhhhhhh." Her breath hisses and she shakes a little, jerking at Jubilee's nipple and that feels really good--and then she stops kneading Jubilee's butt with her other hand--okay, so much going on elsewhere that Jubilee didn't even really take note of that until it was gone--and gently pulls her head up, putting them nose to nose.
"I. I'm going to. um. Open your pants. Is that okay?" Janine looks a little panicky, yeah, but not like she's going to bolt, and is she serious? Is that okay? ...She looks like she expects an answer.
"Yes. Yeah, yes, okay. Um. Have you done this before?"
"No, um, not really, no. no. um. I read."
"Oh. Okay. Okay, great. Yes. Please."
Janine's hand struggles a little in the press between their bodies--she's still got one hand on Jubilee's nipple, idly pinching and twisting and pretty much ensuring that these panties are going to have to be wrung out before they go in the laundry--but Jubilee is willing to restrain her hips for a minute if it'll get Janine's hand in her denim cut-offs, and thank god button flies are well and truly over because if she was wearing one right now she might cry.
The button pops open and then the zipper slides down easily enough, and then Janine must have glanced down because--
"You're wearing Grumpy Bear underwear."
"Not for long? I hope?"
Janine starts to laugh but she doesn't get very far; Jubilee licks her way into the other girl's mouth, wraps her hands over Janine's shoulders from behind, and trails nips and kisses down her throat back to her breasts, until Janine throws her head back and keens, "oh, fuck..."
"You swore," smirks Jubilee. She raises her head from Janine's breast and looks up, past Janine's chest heaving with hitching little breaths to her flushed face, hair coming loose from carefully placed barrettes--
And Janine rolls Jubilee onto her back and tugs her cut-offs sharply down--now we're cookin' with gas, as the Hankster would say. She tips Jubilee onto her side and slithers up behind her--
"Hey, what--oh. Oh, oh, oh--"
Janine's slipped her hand into the Grumpy Bear underwear, and okay, they don't need to come off; Janine has demonstrated that beyond all doubt, sliding a finger into Jubilee's cunt and rubbing quick little circles over the clit with her thumb. Her breasts are bare against Jubilee's back, and frantic for skin on skin, Jubilee pulls the crop-top and the sports bra up and over her head in one desperate yank. She rolls back against Janine's shoulder and settles for an earlobe when her lips won't reach the other girl's mouth. Probably just as well; her tongue flickers arrhythmically as she jerks against Janine's hand, god, all that typing paying off--
"Touch your nipples for me," Janine gasps, her free hand stretching across the pillows to take the hand Jubilee has rested there. The scrape of her thumbnail against Jubilee's palm is going to turn Jubilee into some kind of hand-fetishizing thumb pervert, she can tell, as she obediently scrapes her own thumbnail across her nipple. Janine slides another finger into her, and god it's so good, so tight, she can feel herself clenching wet around Janine's fingers, Janine's thumb flicking faster and she's going to explode at any minute, just one big plasma burst, and if they were really interested in keeping the outbuildings standing around here they obviously should have instituted a three-feet-on-the-floor rule--
"Fuck," Jubilee chokes, her hips snapping back between Janine's thighs. Janine moans low and grinds her crotch against the curve of Jubilee's ass, but her thumb and fingers just keep working, rough slide of slim fingers against wet flesh, just enough friction to make it really, really good--"Oh god, don't stop."
Janine brings her other hand off the pillow and strokes Jubilee's mouth, settles her thumb against Jubilee's lower lip and presses, lightly, her nail just barely nicking the skin, and Jubilee whines against it, a breathy staccato of fuck oh fuck me fuck's, and comes, and comes, little shocky pulses shaking her body around Janine's fingers just when she thinks it's over.
"Fuck," Jubilee mumbles against the pillow and Janine's fingers, still grazing her mouth. Janine's other fingers brush lazily across her clit and she twists her hips to meet them almost like her brain isn't already fucking fried, no pun intended.
Janine's hips, she realizes, are approaching perpetual motion, rubbing tight little circles against her ass like she doesn't even know she's doing it--Jubilee rolls over, catches Janine up in a sloppy wet kiss, licks the other girl's mouth open, and sucks on soft tongue as she reaches under Janine's skirt and tugs at the bikini-cut cotton panties underneath, worn soft with washing--
"Underwear," she pants against Janine's mouth, nipping at her upper lip. "Off. Bend your legs, hey--"
And Janine is, after all, several orders of magnitude of super genius; she gets the idea. She tucks up her calves and takes over, pulling the panties down and off while Jubilee arranges her skirt so it won't come back down and get in the way--there's a moment where Janine is clearly wondering how she got here, what butterfly flicked its wing and dropped her on this bed with this sticky, panting California sex explosion and left her totally naked below the waist to boot--except for the socks. God, Janine is pornographic against the rumpled bedspread, hair tangled against the pillow, white blouse open with her bra hanging unfastened to either side like the next best thing to a uniform necktie--Janine's hard little nipples shivering in the air, her plaid skirt flipped up, demure little white socked feet kicking the mattress with barely contained desperation.
"Yeah," Jubilee says softly, gently spreading Janine's legs and settling herself between them, and yeah, this is where it's all been going. This is it, this is the event horizon of the rest of her life--thank you, butterfly, hello, Janine. She lifts a hand into the air between them and there's a faint glitter, like a supernova from very far away.
"You have been practicing," says Janine approvingly, and somehow her swollen lips and flushed, very visible breasts make it even better; it means more coming from a naked girl with tangled Bettie Page hair.
"Complimentary light show with every performance, babe," Jubilee grins. Another wave and the sparkling air melts away again. She leans forward and pushes the lips of Janine's cunt apart for a long lick.
She ends up having to use both hands to hold Janine's pelvis more or less stationary. For someone who's supposed to be the brains of whatever eventual operation comes out of this nuthouse, she certainly has decent enough lower body strength. She jerks crazily against the mattress at the flick of Jubilee's tongue against her clit and grinds her head back into the pillow, whipping it back and forth--man, that's gonna tangle, but it is pretty gratifying, knowing she's the one making Janine twist and yowl like a crashing system.
"Oh oh oh oh oh--" Janine's moans spiral up in pitch until they seem to crack like a glass. She thrashes under Jubilee's mouth and the harsh hiss of her breath goes on and on until it's all that Jubilee hears: how it hitches faster and faster and catches, silence all around except the cloth rasp of the bedspread underneath them as Janine shakes against it and then jerks taut, her whole body drawn out like a string. Her hips snap up then, and her breath comes out in one long aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. Jubilee licks her a few more times, quick little swipes of the tongue that provoke shudders and gasps until Janine can't even exert herself to twitch.
Jubilee slides back up the other girl's body and drapes herself comfortably along Janine's sated slump--at this point, Janine's like a girl-shaped version of one of those mattresses they advertise on late-night TV: conforms exactly to the shape of your body blah-de-blah-blah. Special materials developed by NASA: that sounds about right. Jubilee presses her nose against warm breast.
"Rmmmmf," she says, or something like it. Janine laughs, a soft rolling giggle like water on smooth rock. Amazing--yesterday Jubilee couldn't have told you if Janine ever laughed at all and it turns out that she has an entire vocabulary of laughter, every giggle and snort distinct, like calligraphy in breath. Janine tilts her head to the side, rests it against Jubilee's, disheveled pageboy tangling into the soft, red-streaked spikes from last week's trip to the mall. Jubilee is tired of pretending to grow up, it was either a rockstar haircut or a nose piercing and frankly, she might go back for that anyway. Paige is sure to give her some interminable speech about acting out and doesn't she get enough attention, really, but Jubilee just thinks she'd like some kind of marker, something tribal and fierce, because she thinks maybe she could take on the world these days and she might as well give fair warning.
"Hey," she says, reluctantly turning her face into the air. "Do you think I'd look good with a nose ring?"
Janine pulls herself up on one elbow, which has the not unpleasant side effect of bringing Jubilee's nose back into close proximity with her breast. She studies Jubilee's face.
"Right side," she determines. "Left is for fertility. And you've already got that ear cuff on that side, anyway. You'll want to maintain some symmetry." Jubilee chokes on a shocked laugh.
"Fertility?! I'm thinking not so much an issue at this point, but okay, better safe than sorry... Will you come with me?"
"Sure." Janine smiles this pleased little kid smile, like no one ever asked her to ride shotgun on a piercing mission before, which, come to think of it, they probably didn't. Jubilee's lost track of all the fake IDs she's seen and semi-legitimate operators her friends in Cali had patronized; it's really amazing that she hasn't taken the non-ear plunge herself yet, but she can't think of anyone better to accompany her than Janine, who will probably know if the guy is actually following sterile procedure. She smiles goofily up at Janine, who settles back down on the bed, dropping a sudden kiss on Jubilee's shoulder on the way.
"Is there a place open on Sundays?" Janine asks. Clearly, she has only wet her taste for adventure. Jubilee snuggles against her.
"Probably," she yawns. "We can call around."
"Maybe..." Janine hesitates.
"I could get my ears pierced."
"...I'm a bad influence, I can tell."
"I don't mind."
In the middle of the night, Jubilee wakes up cold on her non-Janine side. The heat gets turned down to conserve energy after midnight, and it seems like it's never quite caught up with the weather in September anyway, when the nights are really starting to turn chilly but the days still have that deceptively warm thing going on--she'd never even heard the term "Indian summer" until she came to Westchester, but sometimes she uses it just to jerk Paige's chain; it's good for a 15 minute lecture at the minimum--anyway, definitely blanket weather. Luckily there's an extra one folded up at the foot of the bed; it'd be a major production waking Janine up and getting themselves under the comforter, so she just shakes it out and pulls it over both of them. Janine sighs and burrows against her; at least one of them has shifted position in her sleep, because now it's Janine's head against the hollow of Jubilee's throat. She smells almost, but not quite, entirely unlike apples.