Summary: A face from the past turns up to help Janine wreak her revenge. Janine/Irene shameless PWP.
(A/N: Anyone who's found their way here from Now That You're Bleeding, don't worry, that's still happening :P A new chapter will be along very soon)
Janine stepped out into the street and wrapped her coat around her, hitching her bag more securely onto her shoulder. The level of interest the good people of The One Show had shown in the intricacies of a certain consulting detective's sex life had been equal parts amusing and disturbing. The price of celebrity, Janine mused to herself, smirking at the stories she'd "revealed" to her interviewers. Oh yes, she was rather proud of this one.
"Immensely enjoyable, my dear." A voice interrupted Janine's thoughts and she turned round in alarm. Her eyes fell on a tall, pale skinned woman leaning against the wall with an air of unconcerned poise. Black hair tumbled down her shoulders, not a strand out of place despite the gusts of wind that were whistling down the alley. It dawned on Janine that she'd seen this woman just before her interview had started, striding purposefully down a corridor with a clip board in hand.
"Thank you." she replied, feeling a somewhat self-satisfied smile alighting the corners of her mouth.
"I've been following your stories." the woman tells her, smiling widely, "Your imagination should be commended."
"Excuse me?"
"Oh come now, my dear. We both know Mr. Holmes is far too buttoned up to ever be as fun as you claim. I imagine the general public are fooled, though, I suppose that's really all that matters."
Janine stared at the taller woman, vague memories stirring on the edge of her consciousness. "You know Sherl, then? What backstabbing move did he pull on you?"
"Sherlock and I shared a few... incidents." she replied, rolling the last word on her tongue. "I'd venture we both made quite lasting impressions."
Something clicked in Janine's head, "Wait... you're not Irene Adler? I thought you were in America."
Irene smirked, "Well well. Has our dear Sherlock been telling tales about me?"
Janine bit her bottom lip, battling down amusement. "John's blog, actually. Sorry." She thought she saw a flash of irritation cross Irene's face, but it was quickly squashed.
"Pity." Irene replied, pushing off the wall and taking a few steps towards Janine, "It seems this is something of a habit of his, throwing people like us out with the rubbish."
The Irish woman let out out an indignant snort, "Speak for yourself, Adler. I've not been thrown out with anything."
Irene quirked an eyebrow, moving close enough to Janine to stare down at her imperiously, "Forgive me, Miss. Hawkins, but spinning wild fantasies for tabloids is not what I'd call the actions of the impartial."
Janine fought the urge to step backwards, glaring up at Irene. "Look, I'm doing this because Sherl spent an entire month lying and manipulating me, when I'd have gladly helped him if only he'd told me the truth. So yes, I'm pissed off and I want revenge, but my life is hardly over because of him." She cast a dismissive eye over the woman in front of her, "'Fraid the heartbreak's all with you, love."
Irene visibly bristled, and Janine had to forcibly remind herself to stand her ground. "Heartbreak?" Irene spat, "I realise Dr. Watson tends towards over-romanticism on that blog of his, but–"
"But what?" Janine shot back, suddenly annoyed, "That's why you showed up here today, isn't it? Looking for someone else to share your one-woman pity parade? Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you." She turned on her heel and began stalking away, readjusting the strap of her bag. She was almost out of the alley when Irene's voice echoed after her, "Oh no, you didn't disappoint me at all, dear."
Janine stopped, urging herself to ignore her and keep walking. But some strange spark of curiosity prevented her, and she turned back around, "What?"
"I came because I read your articles and you sounded like a woman with a score to settle." Irene told her, advancing forwards once again, "And I was right, it seems. You want revenge on our mutual friend?" She swooped in, gently tugging Janine's head back by her ponytail and whispering in her ear, "I can help."
"Woah there." Janine put a hand on Irene's collar and pushed her backwards, "I don't even know you, what makes you think I'd be interested?"
Irene chuckled, "You're pupils are dilated despite the high light levels and you've looked me up and down 4 times since I first called out to you. If you have an alternative explanation I'd love to hear it." By the time she was finished her voice was practically a purr, and Janine felt a shiver running down her spine. She cleared her throat forcefully, "I'm not in the habit of sleeping with strange women." Even undeniably gorgeous ones, she thought to herself. While men had always been her first choice, women would come along every now and then that turned her head. Though she usually got to know them before jumping into bed with them.
Irene chuckled, not loosing her hold on the shorter woman's hair, "I believe you." she murmured, "But you were willing to hang onto Sherlock for over a month with only the possibility that it could lead to anything. It must have been a while." She leant down so the last words ghosted over Janine's neck, making her knees tremble. She couldn't resist glancing Irene up and down once more, taking in her tall, elegant frame and flawless skin. Rather like Sherlock, it occurred to her. It really had been a shame that nothing had happened there.
She swallowed, "I really don't see how this would get back at Sherl. It's not like he cares about either of us in that way."
"No indeed." Irene murmured, the barest hint of regret in her tone, "But you know what he does care about? His precious ego." she leant down until her mouth was level with Janine's, "He expects the whole world to be falling slavishly at his feet. I think it's in both out interests to show him how little he really matters, don't you?"
The warm, sweet breath ghosting across Janine's cheek was making it increasingly hard to argue. Her tongue flickered out nervously across her bottom lip. "I don't even know you." she repeated, though with far less conviction than before.
Irene curled an exquisitely manicured hand around Janine's chin and lifted her face until their eyes locked. Deep blue met clear brown, and any further argument died on the Irish woman's tongue. "Tell me you're not interested." Irene breathed. God, she sounded predatory. "Tell me you're not even the slightest bit curious and I'll walk away right now and leave you to your adorable little stories."
For a fraction of a second Janine stood frozen, breath stuttering in her chest. Then her eyes flicked down to Irene's lush, scarlet coloured lips, and her resolve snapped. Her hand flew to the back of the brunette's neck and pulled her in, crushing their mouths together. Immediately, Irene parted her lips and slid her tongue into Janine's mouth demandingly, while her arms circled her waist and eliminated the last of the gap between them. Hands fisted in clothes and hair as the kiss grew more heated, both women grappling for dominance in the tryst. Janine bit down on Irene's bottom lip, feeling a rush of smugness as she heard the brunette gasp. A second later the self-satisfaction gave way to pleasure as Irene's hand wandered down and grabbed her arse, digging her nails into the soft flesh.
After several minutes – or perhaps it was only moments, Janine couldn't be sure – Irene pushed back, eyes roving hungrily over her companion's tousled hair and red lips. "My flat is barely 5 minutes away." she announced, voice husky with desire, "I think being there would be beneficial to us both."
"No kidding." Janine gasped. Then, just as Irene went to move past her, she ducked her head and nipped sharply at an inviting expanse of pale skin at the base of her throat. A surprised intake of breath sounded above her, and when she withdrew Irene's eyes were glinting with amusement.
"My my." she said, "Sherlock really did miss out, didn't he?"
Janine inhaled raggedly, getting her breathing back under control. "Please stop talking about Sherl." she replied, before turning and striding out of the alleyway, Irene's heels clicking on the tarmac behind her.
An extremely short time later Janine discovered that her new friend was something of an exhibitionist. The moment they'd clambered into a cab she'd leapt on Janine, pressing her back into the car door and running a hand assuredly but teasingly up her thigh in a way that almost made Janine's brain short-circuit. After several seconds of being unable to do anything except pant helplessly, she regained her faculties enough to push them both into more upright positions and clamp a vice-like hand around the wrist that was attempting to sneak up under the hem of her dress. As turned on as she already was (after a few messy kisses and light groping – God, it really had been a while) she wasn't about to put on a show for the cab driver. That could land a girl in all sorts of trouble.
Irene withdrew slightly, keeping their faces mere centimetres apart, and pouted. "How vanilla of you." she complained.
"Now now, love." Janine trailed a hand down Irene's neck and collar, then stopped, her hand hovering at the top of her cleavage, "All good things to those who wait."
The taller woman's predatory smile returned, a glint of mischief in her eyes, "Oh, my dear Janine," she cooed, running a long crimson nail down the side of her companion's face, "You have no idea."
A shiver of lust rocked Janine from head to toe, and she tugged Irene back towards her. They connected with their mouths already open and the kiss was downright scorching. The Irish woman let herself be dragged down into the heady sensations of battling tongues and roaming hands, not resurfacing until the cab jolted to a stop outside a large white building. Somewhere in Belgravia, she thought to herself blearily as she paid the driver and let Irene drag her out and through the front door.
The moment they were inside, Janine found herself shoved hard against the wall, her bag thumping to the ground at her feet. The next second Irene was pressed up against her, hands braced either side of Janine's head as she licked her way down the side of her neck. Almost crying out from the unexpected pleasure of it, Janine slapped her hands against the wall to stop herself falling to the ground. She felt the corners of the English woman's mouth turn up in a smirk against her tingling skin.
Feeling suddenly competitive, Janine slung an arm around Irene's waist and forced a knee between her thighs. A breathy sound escaped Irene's throat and her hips jerked up to meet Janine's hips. The movement resonated between the shorter woman's legs and she gasped, head falling backwards against the wall.
Irene detached her mouth from her neck with a vaguely obscene noise. "You're quite the handful, aren't you?" she ducked down and bit Janine's breast through the fabric of her dress, eliciting a noise suspiciously like a whimper from her. "Whatever am I going to do with you?"
"I may have misinterpreted." Janine gasped, looking at Irene through half-lidded eyes, "But seemed like your intention bringing me was to fuck me." she flexed the thigh still planted between the brunette's legs, watching her eyelids flutter.
The next moment she was yanked off the wall and almost fell against Irene, who reached down to cup her arse once more, squeezing it and making Janine groan.
"Oh, you're going to be a lot of fun." Irene purred into Janine's hair, "I can see why Sherlock took a liking to you."
The shorter woman tilted her head back and captured Irene's mouth once more. This kiss was messy and fumbling, but Irene moaned into it, her lips quivering against Janine's. "What did I say about Sherl?" Janine asked as she pulled away. "Bedroom, Adler. Now."
Irene ran a tongue over her bruised bottom lip and her eyes glinted. "Your wish is my command." she told her, "For now." Before Janine had time to process what that meant exactly, the brunette had grabbed her by the wrist and was propelling her down the corridor and through into a large and virtually empty room. Janine flicked her eyes around it - taking in the simple vanity table against one wall and the mirror hanging at eye level – before catching site of the huge bed in the middle of the room.
"Bloody hell." she murmured, "How many people usually occupy that thing?"
Irene came up behind her and resumed her previous assault on Janine's neck, "Only me and my special friends." she replied, "Though nearly always one at a time – hard to give them the attention they deserve otherwise, wouldn't you say?" With that she slid a hand down and ran it up the inside of Janine's thigh and up under her dress, stopping just short of her underwear and rubbing at her legs.
"Dammit, Adler." Janine gasped, body straining for the contact that was currently being denied it. She felt Irene chuckle against her neck.
"You're wearing more clothes than I usually approve of in the bedroom." she told Janine, her voice annoyingly steady.
"Couldn't agree more." Her companion twisted to face her and wasted no time pushing Irene's coat of her shoulders. Irene followed suit, then leant in and kissed Janine again as she made swift work of her zip. Soon her dress was pooling on the floor and Janine kicked it away, followed closely by her shoes. After moments of twisting and tugging (and stopping to suck on particularly inviting patches of skin as they were exposed) both women were drinking in each other's naked forms.
Irene pushed Janine backwards until she was sprawling in the middle of the bed, the soft sheets creating a gorgeous friction against her sensitive skin. Seconds later she was taken by surprise as her hands were lifted above her head and something tight and leather was fastened around her wrists. Tilting her head back into the mattress, she saw that she'd been bound to the headboard with handcuffs. What is it with gorgeous pale brunettes and their damn handcuffs? "What are you–"
"Hush." Irene planted a nail lightly over Janine's mouth, "Trust me, my dear."
The Irish woman was wondering whether or not it would kill the mood to announce she trusted this total stranger as far as she could throw her, when the woman in question moved down the bed and took Janine's nipple into her mouth, sucking and biting lightly. A breathless groan escaped Janine and her eyes fluttered closed, the wet heat of Irene's mouth sending sparks shooting through her skin. She squirmed, the chain of the handcuffs scraping against the headboard as Irene ran her nails down Janine's stomach, scoring light trails in her tanned skin. The shorter woman shifted, rubbing her legs together and realising for the first time how wet she was – she could feel her slick juices smeared over the very tops of her thighs and dampening the sheet beneath her.
She pulled a knee up and slid it between Irene's legs, grazing her mons and feeling an answering wetness. Irene let out a huff of air at the contact and detached her mouth from Janine's breasts. She sat back on her heels and gazed down at the woman spread out before her. "Those handcuffs are an extremely good look on you." she purred, then ran a teasing finger up Janine's opening, smirking at the hiss and jerk of the hips her action elicited.
"For God's sake, Adler." Janine groaned, her hands straining against their bonds.
Irene chuckled, "How about we take this up a notch?" Without waiting for an answer, she crawled off the bed and crossed to the vanity table. Janine's eyes were so transfixed on the gentle sway of her hips and the inviting slope of her buttocks that she failed to notice the sleek black riding crop until Irene was running it teasingly up her calf.
Her heart leapt in her chest even as the heat between her legs intensified, a intoxicating mixture of nervousness and arousal that made her gasp for breath. Irene's smirk returned, "Don't worry, my dear. I won't hurt you... much."
Before Janine had time to fully process her comment, Irene had readjusted her grip on the riding crop and slapped it down on Janine's thigh. The shorter woman gasped and her eyes fell shut, feeling the light sting echo deep within her. Before she had time to recover a second sting resonated on her other leg, just above her kneecap. Janine wriggled, though whether trying to escape the blows or encourage them, she wasn't sure.
A few seconds later she felt the soft leather tracing over her collar bone. She opened her eyes to see Irene staring down at her, eyes dark with thinly-veiled lust. She ran the crop teasingly down her stomach and over her hips, drawing a moan from Janine. Then she flicked back up and brought it down on the underside of her breasts. The Irish woman cried out, back arching. She could feel something coiling deep within her, the chaos of sensation firing from every nerve beginning to sharpen acutely.
"Tell me you want it." Irene told her. Her voice had taken on a commanding edge, one that compelled Janine to obey. Almost; You don't grow up with 3 older brothers without learning a thing or two about holding your own.
Janine huffed out a laugh, "If you think you're winning me over that easy, you've got another thing coming Adler."
Irene quirked an eyebrow, the glint returning to her heavily-lidded eyes. "You know I don't take insubordination in the bedroom lightly, Miss. Hawkins."
"Insubordination?" Janine was barely aware of what she was saying as she brought her knees together, her thighs even slicker than before. "What are you, some kind of drill sergeant – Ah!" Coherent thought was abruptly cut off as Irene brought the riding crop down hard on the slope of Janine's breast. It was followed by several more blows in quick succession, rendering the shorter woman helpless to do anything but screw her eyes shut and moan as each strike landed on her hyper-sensitive skin. The seconds began to blur under Irene's assault, each slap of leather winding the tension in Janine tighter and tighter. She could feel her nipples straining and wet heat trickling down her thighs, her whole body alight with sensation – a burning throbbing ache interrupted by jolts of lust that shook her centre with every blow of the crop. Oh God, she was close, so close...
She was seconds away from tipping over the edge when suddenly the attack halted. Letting out a cry of frustration, Janine opened her eyes to find Irene standing above her twirling the crop in her hands.
"Fuck." the shorter woman's head fell back against the mattress, the pulsing in her core verging on painful. She bucked her hips, desperate for release, but finding only frustratingly empty air. "Adler." She'd intended for it to sound like a warning, but it came out embarrassingly like a plea.
"I did warn you." The taller woman said calmly. She leant down and captured Janine's mouth in an unbearably slow kiss that only served to stoke the fire within her. "Now ask me nicely, and maybe I'll allow you to come."
"You are such a bitch." Janine gasped out, almost beside herself, but still clutching the last remnants of her pride.
Irene tutted above her, "That didn't sound like a request. Someone's going to have to teach you better manners." She moved down the bed and flicked the leather very gently against Janine's opening. Janine whimpered as another spasm rocked through her, her muscles clenching desperately.
"Please." she moaned, abruptly passed the point of caring. All other priorities were suddenly drowned out by the incessant thrumming need that was coiling faster and faster inside her.
"Please what?" Irene asked, running a nail up Janine's calf.
"Please let me come."
"Much better. That wasn't so hard now, was it?" Irene asked, voice unbearably smug. Then, before Janine knew what was happening, she plunged two fingers inside her. The Irish woman let out a wail as she thrust into her once, twice, curled her fingers just so...
Orgasm crashed over Janine, wiping any thought from her mind as she snapped like a bowstring. Every centimetre of skin came alight with pleasure almost too intense to handle and her vision went white. For what felt like forever Janine twisted and writhed on the bed, hands straining against the cuffs that held her and muscles contracting rhythmically in time with her mangled cries of curses and "Oh God" and "Adler". Finally, the torrent of feeling swept gently away and the world came back into focus in time for Irene to open the cuffs and let Janine bring her arms down. Irene ran a soothing hand through her hair as her heaving breaths gradually slowed. "Easy, my dear." she murmured, "I've got you."
Janine opened her eyes and looked up at Irene, "That was–"
"I know." Irene smiled that annoyingly self-satisfied smile and leant down to kiss Janine a lot more tenderly than before. A second later Janine caught her completely off guard as she grabbed her around the waist and rolled her onto the bed. She gasped at the unexpected loss of balance and dug her nails into Janine's shoulders.
The shorter woman crawled on top of her, caging her with her arms and legs. It seemed high time someone wiped that smirk off Miss. Adler's face.
"My turn." Janine told her, and before Irene could try anything devious she ducked down and nipped hard at Irene's collar. The brunette let out a startled moan, and Janine wasted no time trailing a line of kisses and nibbles down her pale skin, stopping to lavish attention on her breasts – sucking and licking until Irene was moaning beneath her. Then she continued mercilessly downwards until her head was hovering between Irene's legs, her hair trailing across her thighs. She trailed a finger up Irene's folds, grinning at the slick wetness she found there. "This is a very good look on you." she informed Irene casually.
"Janine." Irene growled, and sensing that she was about to attempt to turn the tables once more (damn this woman's rigid self control) Janine leapt forward and licked a firm stripe up Irene's opening. The taller woman moaned unashamedly, and Janine felt a thrum of satisfaction as she dived in, burying her tongue in Irene's folds and flicking into every crevasse. The brunette ground her hips up into Janine's face and a hand fisted in her hair. "Oh good girl." she murmured breathlessly, "Oh, Janine, yes."
Janine picked up the pace with her tongue, running her hands up and down Irene's thighs. She could feel the English woman's muscles contracting, her breathing growing frantic. This wouldn't take long. She reached a hand up and pinched hard at Irene's nipple, hearing a desperate cry above her. She repeated the gesture, and after a breathlessly still few seconds Irene was coming, her chest heaving and fingers twisting in Janine's hair.
Janine remained inside her until she felt her flop back against the mattress, muscles twitching as they relaxed. She sat back, wiping a hand across her mouth and gazing down at the woman spread eagled before her, panting and gorgeously dishevelled. Janine flopped down beside her, "And to think I was gunna go back to the office this afternoon."
Irene chuckled, "I certainly made a good choice coming to see you. I must say, you're a talented woman, Miss Hawkins."
Janine hummed contentedly. She was about to return to sentiment when a buzzing sounded from her jacket pocket. "Dammit, that's me." She rolled out of bed and dug in the pocket for her mobile; "Hello? What, now? No, no, I mean... yes. Yes, OK, give me 45 minutes." She hung up and turned back to Irene, who had rolled onto her side and was observing Janine with a lazily admiring look.
"I'm needed at work." Janine told her.
"Of course." Irene replied, "I imagine they were expecting you at least an hour ago."
"Useless gobshites." Janine muttered, searching the floor for her underwear, "You think they'd be able to mange without me for just one afternoon." She was still in the middle of the post-sex haze, and dragging herself all the way to work seemed like the least enticing idea on the planet.
Irene chuckled, "Would you like to use the shower before you leave?"
Janine sighed, "Thank you, that'd be nice."
The taller woman rolled off the bed and fetched Janine an absurdly fluffy towel from a cupboard down the hall. The shower was warm, and Janine allowed herself to take her time soaping and rinsing her still-sensitive skin, washing away the sweat of the last hour.
By the time she came out, fully clothed once more, Irene was nowhere to be found. Janine considered calling out for her, then realised she'd have no idea what to say if she did. Instead, she retrieved her bag and stepped out the front door, hailing a cab almost immediately.
Inside, she put her hand into her pocket to retrieve her mobile and her fingers grazed against a small rectangular piece of card. Pulling it out she discovered it was a business card – sleek and black with simply "The Woman" and a telephone number embossed into it. Confused, Janine flipped it over to find a note written in gold pen on the other side in ridiculously neat handwriting: "If you ever need to get back at anyone else, my dear."
Janine grinned widely, tucked the card back into her pocket and settled back into the seat, watching Belgravia roll past the windows. Oh yes. As revenge went, this afternoon had been some of her best work.