Title: Misapprehension
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters/Pairing: Jenny/Vastra
Rating: R
Summary: Jenny is happy to be wrong.
Prompts: swords, tongue, green, scales, taste
Jenny thought swords were used for men to surround and bully and take, thought Vastra would leverage her power at the tip of a blade.
Jenny thought the scales would be slimy, would cause shivers of revulsion to consume her the first time Vastra drew her hand down the soft skin of Jenny's back.
Jenny thought "green" was the colour meat turned when it rotted and she had to choke it down anyway if she intended to survive, thought Vastra would taste of defilement and spoilage.
Jenny thought her best prospect would be as some man's possession, subject to his whims even as she closed her eyes against his gross needs.
The swords buy them peace, and freedom, and protection. Jenny's arms and legs ache each night after her daily work and her hours of training. She is no longer afraid of the steel, though there's a resigned sigh when she knows it will be time to practise thrusts and parries.
The scales are dry and smooth, sliding under Jenny's hand like rough silk. Vastra writhes when Jenny massages her belly, and her scaly hands are as tender as a baby's, holding Jenny's face.
The green skin under Jenny's kisses tastes of smoke from the oil lamps, tastes of leather from Madame's breeches, undulates like the green sea Jenny spied once from a distance. The flavour of the sweat between Vastra's breasts is sealike, salty, and the moist, hidden place between Vastra's thighs reminds her of green apples, tartsweet and juicy on her lips. Jenny drinks her like cider, worships her like the ocean. Her turn will come to lie spread while Vastra's long tongue undoes her slowly. She belongs to her mistress, heart and soul, and is joyful in the surrender.
Jenny doesn't mind being wrong, not when this feels so right.