A/N at the beginning:
WOW is this chapter long. Like, longest of the whole story. I don't know what I was thinking saying only fifty chapters, but I'm really going to try to hold it to that. That being said, other chapters *might* be longer than they normally are. This one clocked in at about 8,700 words, so prepare yourselves, but there is a reason.
The foremost being that this is the smut chapter. There's your disclaimer. You've hung with me for upwards of 150k+ words, so for everyone who's been waiting on it, here it is.
HOWEVER! I didn't want those UNinterested in smut not to have at least something, (which is totally your prerogative, as this isn't a story solely focused on that) so feel free to scroll to the first break you see wherein plot picks back up. You'll miss a bit of Anna's introspection during the *ehem* encounter... but you'll not miss much concerning plot developments if you skip ahead.
As if it weren't painfully obvious by this point: I don't own Frozen.
The walk up the stairs was like the measured tread at the opening of a commencement ceremony, or the deliberate gait of a bride's wedding march. It was such a kinetic-cum-clumsy transition, so much movement and action required. A segue into the beginnings of intimacy.
"So, how do you want to… uhm, go about… this?" Anna asked uncertainly, standing at the right side of the bed. Jane fled to the left, a mattress of distance between the two.
Anna's (their) bed was unmade, pastel quilt crumpled on the floor from the heated night before. She'd forgotten how humid and heavy the air was in Louisiana during the summer, that immense morning sun filtered through a series of windows into her wallpapered boudoir. Anna heard robins chirping outside the open window. It was a different idyll than what Jane had pictured for their first time together. Not steamy, candle-lit romance at midnight with red rose petals, but more pastoral, bird-song and daisies and sun-streaming window panes. A simpler love.
Anna craved a simpler love in her complex life.
"I hadn't given much thought to the logistics," Jane smirked.
"I'm shocked."
"Not yet, you're not."
"You're awful."
"Thank you," Jane said, and inclined her head. "But you know that I'll be using my hands in—"
"I'm a virgin, not an idiot. Your shower head in New York will feel like I'm cheating on him."
"You… in my shower?!"
"Well, it smelled like you. And all those yoga outfits? God Jane, what did you expect me to do?"
"Oh my—"
"Never mind, let's just…" Anna exhaled, rolled her shoulders, cracked her knuckles, and bounced from toe to toe.
"It's sex, not a boxing match," Jane said.
"I know that!" Anna said defensively. "I'm just… gearing up."
Anna removed her shirt without ceremony, then tugged at the hair ties maintaining her braids. She untwisted the cords of caramel and shot Jane a crooked grimace, flopping her arms outward as if to say, "Well, here we go."
Jane nodded, then popped the button to her skinnies (for she had already lost her shirt to the hardwood of the kitchen floor moments previously), inhaling as she peeled the material from her legs. Over her sneakers, Anna noted. She then grinned, wondering if this was an odd tit-for-tat they were playing at here.
Complementary stripping.
"Since when do you wear red underwear?" Anna asked. "It's a bit exotic for you."
"What?"
"Your bra color? Sort of rusty, brick red."
"Oh, I… it reminded me of your hair."
"So you stole a matching set?" Anna's eyebrows spasmed like an energetic caterpillar, tone infused with skeptic incredulity.
"Well, they didn't have a t-shirt."
Anna popped the button to her cut-offs, then extended her arms for balance and removed her sandals instead. She glared a challenge back at Jane: "Your turn."
"Turns, is it?"
"Probably didn't start that way, but it's only fair."
Jane set her hands atop her hips and cocked her head at Anna. She shook her head congenially, then set about undoing her own braid. Jane ran her fingers through her hair and then bent over, flinging her head back and scooping her bangs over the crown of her skull to remove the wispy fringe from her face.
"Now you're just teasing me."
"Again, not yet," Jane said.
Anna didn't have much to bargain with, so she rid herself of the shorts next. There she was, underwear clad and body blushing, staring at Jane in her unmentionables. A pair of Converse still stubbornly covered Jane's feet.
Jane kicked the shoes off of her feet and waited, patiently, for Anna.
Anna reached behind her and stared at the crown molding of the ceiling as she unhooked the clasp of her bra. It was one thing to be bare in the pool water at night. That setting had emboldened her, but in the starkness of morning, in the relaxed air of her (no, their) Louisiana home, she was overwhelmed with the idea that she was about to make love in her (their) bed for the first time.
"Anna," Jane said, from across the mattress. "I love you."
"I know, I'm just… and you're so…"
"Anna Arrendale," Jane said. "You are one of the most wanted women in the world."
"Yeah, I know but—"
"No. You don't know," Jane mumbled. "You are so, so very wanted, Anna."
Anna refused to allow her insecurities to overpower her, so she twisted the hook quickly, then slipped the bra straps from her shoulders.
Jane must have sensed her discomfort and refrained from staring, instead opting to bend over and remove the socks from her feet. Which left Anna in a pair of boyshorts and Jane still relatively clothed in comparison, ruddy cotton brassiere and panty set covering all of the good bits. Anna pouted, and crossed her arms over her exposed chest.
When Jane's eyes hit her pouting form, the thief was virtually salivating. It gave Anna a swirling boost of confidence.
However, Jane wouldn't give up without reminding Anna she had the upper hand: "It's not my fault you wore sandals today." Classic Jane snark.
Anna, in petulant, seductive fury, stuck her thumbs under the waistband of her underwear and yanked them down her legs, punted them from her ankle and shuffled onto the bed with indignant purpose.
"Get over here," she commanded, and Jane complied immediately.
Their kisses varied, as did their touches. Fingertips scorched and lips chapped from wet then dry then wet saliva. It was lumbering and awkward: Do you want on top? and Oh god, stop, that tickles! It didn't really matter because they were giggling and it felt good.
Jane shook her head over the top of Anna's chest so that platinum strands brushed over her sensitized skin. Anna squirmed below her and Jane ducked down to distribute kisses between Anna's breastplate, tipped nipples, and the shallow trench of her cleavage.
Jane abruptly stopped, then pulled back to rub her thumb over the semi-circular scar off-center of Anna's sternum.
"What's this?" Jane murmured, straddled over Anna's hips. Her thumb cast sweeping circles over the scar, and her palm rested flat against Anna's torso. Anna's chest expanded and contracted with deep pants, eyes fluttering shut from the riveting, weightless contact of Jane's blissful touch.
"Scar," Anna managed. "You…" Anna's right hand absconded from its position at the back of Jane's shapely thighs and came up to thread through Jane's fingers at her chest. Anna pressed into her own chest, staring heatedly up at Jane.
"On St. John, when you shocked me?" Anna began. "You didn't just shock me. I don't know if it was a really tight grip you had, but your fingernail was digging in while I got the jolts. And it scratched, or cut, and then the charge burned through, and you seared me. Sort of, marked me as your own. I never knew you could be so possessive," Anna laughed, breathless.
"It sort of looks like—"
"Like the moon," Anna said. "I know. I found it tremendously appropriate." Anna squeezed hers and Jane's hands affectionately, and then not-so-affectionately moved Jane's hand over her right breast and cast a 'get to work' glance at her hovering lover.
"Does that—mean you're—going to… mark me?" Jane asked through fevered kisses along the column of Anna's neck.
"We could always get my name tattooed on your bicep. Ahhh—"
Jane had bitten her neck, and Anna had forgotten how much she loved it.
But Jane hadn't forgotten. Trust her genius girlfriend to catalog and exploit every erogenous zone, recall every turn-on. Once they got good at this, Anna would be at a significant disadvantage. She would have more of a learning curve, and Jane would be able to fall back on her semi-eidetic memory to help her melt Anna like a snowman in summer.
God, like when she bites—
Jane sunk her teeth into the fleshy underside of Anna's left breast. Anna clutched the back of Jane's head and catapulted into her mouth, back curved sharper than the Gateway Arch.
"No tattoos," Jane purred, and soothed the bite with her tongue.
Anna whimpered, and tugged on Jane's head to retaliate. "It's either that, or I burn you," Anna quipped through gritted teeth.
"No burns, either."
"Give me fifteen minutes and you'll do whatever I want you to do," Anna growled.
"Challenge?"
"Promise."
"You're sexy when you're flirting."
"I flirt with you all the time."
"Coincidentally, you're sexy all the time."
"Shut up, back to it," Anna insisted, and silenced Jane's mouth by bringing it to her own. Anna splayed her hands over Jane's shoulder blades, could feel the streamlined planes of Jane's skeleton shifting underneath a layer of powder-white skin. Jane supported herself with sturdy elbows and knees, rolling her weight against Anna until their bellybuttons kissed and Anna shuddered, the heated poundage atop her so comfortable and so tantalizing.
The brass bed squeaked and the cotton sheets made Anna's damp skin tingle every time she or Jane brushed a sensitive spot. Jane ran her left hand up and down Anna's right side, then vaulted above Anna to place her left knee between Anna's legs. On the next downward skim Jane ran her fingers all the way to the soft part behind Anna's knee and hitched Anna's leg over her hips.
"Uhm, that feels—"
"Yes?" Jane asked, rubbing at Anna's core with her thigh.
"Good. So very good, Jane." Anna took another moment to lift herself on her elbows to meet Jane's lips, lapping at Jane's open mouth while her lower body danced against Jane's thigh, seeking greater friction. Her synapses were jiving and she could feel her neurons firing, like she'd overdosed on energy drinks. Her body was belligerent in its need, a knot tensing and winding in her abdomen with every roll of Jane's hips, every needy grope of Jane's hands over her chest, over her strong back and flexing buttocks. Anna pressed closer and closer, as if she could weld their bodies together with the heat of their exchange thus far. Anna was sweating, but Jane was licking at the jut of her jaw line, kissing pores and freckled clumps and making her feel precious and debauched simultaneously.
"I…" Jane pursed her lips and looked down at her fingers. "I don't want to get overly excited," Jane exhaled more than spoke. "My fingertips… that's where so much of it comes from."
And it was with great mental strain that Anna figured Jane meant her powers. Because those fingertips were doing some damn fine work, electricity notwithstanding.
"You know I trust you, right?" Anna said, and kissed each of Jane's fingertips in turn. "You know I have no problem seeing what each—kiss—one—kiss—can—kiss—do."
"You feel sufficiently… lubri—lubricat—wet."
"Jane," Anna moaned.
"Okay, let me move just…there…"
Anna could feel Jane's hand shaking at the inside of her thigh.
"Are you ready?" Jane mumbled.
Anna nodded with a wobbly grin and kissed Jane as the blonde's hand made its first pass against her warm slit.
"Oh!" Anna puffed a breath into Jane's mouth and collapsed rapturously into the pillow behind her.
Jane made another pass with two fingers this time. She located Anna's clit, and made some serious headway with her alternating taps, circular swipes, and tormenting compressions.
It was Nirvana or Namaste or whatever the hell paradise Jane was trying to achieve with all that yoga, Anna thought. Jane's finger was still there, paused at her entry, doused in Anna's willing fluids and prickling against her opening like a livewire. Jane slid inside of her with her pinky, pulled out, then added her ring finger. She retreated again, and then entered her with that slender middle finger and stroked the ribbed, visceral flesh on Anna's front wall.
And if Jane took her request to heart— ah, there's the index.
Jane pumped two fingers in and out of Anna while her thumb hammered Anna's sensitive exterior, her spare right hand working a breast. And Jane had to be fucking ambidextrous, because Anna couldn't focus on the sensations within her without redirecting her thoughts to the feel of Jane's nail scratching and pinching her hard nipple and then abandoning that thought to experience the swirling sensations against the external nerve bundle at the apex of her legs.
She can't be this good at everything all at the same time!
Her gut clenched, and her walls did, too, with the measured speed of Jane's propulsions.
"Hard— harder," she gasped. "Ahh, ah, AH!"
Anna met Jane's hefty thrusts with vigorous response, canting her hips into those twisting fingers and exhaling things like Jane, love, and sweetheart with every boiling skim of skin.
It was some sort of atomic fusion happening between them. It was radioactive and pulsed from Anna's core, through Jane's hand and up her arm, down the blonde's spine and shot out of her toes, these ecstatic sensations. Anna felt Jane kiss her everywhere, that rock star tongue going to town on a clavicle and a hip and a belly. Anna's skin sang, out of tune and off tempo, because Jane conducted relentlessly, more Argentine tango than minuet, more sensual bombardment than individualized touch. Anna's thoughts were half-complete and fleeting, but she managed to wonder if this was what it was like to be Jane. To have access to an extra sense, such that the energy constantly quaked just below the surface, pent up and desperate for release.
Jane murmured through Anna's haze and requested permission:
"Anna, do you trust me?"
"I— uh huh, of— haaaaah!— course, of course I trust you, Jane—huh—Jane!" Anna's hands fisted into her (their) sheets, her head thrashed, and her chest heaved with the load of a thousand anvils. Her lungs spiked while adrenaline and endorphins flooded her limbs and jettisoned her into the clouds, and nothing could ever feel any better than this—
Until Jane released a bolt of energy inside her body; Anna's walls clamped so tightly around Jane's fingers Anna might have cut off circulation to the blonde's digits.
"JANE—!"
Anna's eyes rolled back in her skull and she rode those energy bursts from Jane's hand, decreasing in intensity with every spasmodic thrust she could muster while in the throes of orgasm. There was sweeping movement, she thought, and muddled sensation. Her cavity was stinging sweetly and the wet, suctiony chords of fingered flesh gurgled against her eardrums. Jane loaded her with harmless discharges and kissed her down from her high.
Then Anna blacked out momentarily.
Jane was still inside her when she came to seconds later, spots behind her eyes and groin muscles stretched to snapping she had widened her legs so.
"You've given me so much," Jane said languidly, kissing Anna deeply with leading lips and a coarse tongue. She rubbed the hard palate of Anna's mouth just as she had the channel in Anna's lower lips. Jane drug her bottom lip down the bridge of Anna's nose, pressing the seam of her mouth to the tip, like she wanted to sample Anna's every facial feature with deliberate nips, humid and sultry and sexy as hell.
"I've wanted to watch you say my name. Wanted to know what I could do to you. Because I've never been able to make anybody feel anything. I've only ever obliterated sensation. But you… you're giving me that gift. The way your lips pursed together and your tongue fell down and your teeth widened when you said 'Jane'. I heard you pant it, howl it, whisper, and sob it. You gave me the best of both worlds, Anna. Power and control. And right now, I feel so… powerful."
Jane placed an open palm on Anna's abdomen and released a wave of hiccupping energy. Anna's muscles seized and relaxed from toe tip to hair end. She drew taut then fell limp while Jane coaxed another briefer, calmer orgasm by needling the knoll above Anna's slit.
Jane eventually removed herself from between Anna's legs and Anna turned to face her, body still jolting in aftershocks and center surprisingly sore.
"Was that… was that alright, Anna?" Jane asked, laying a hand upon her cheek.
Anna nodded and shut her lids, kissing the pulse point on Jane's wrist while tears seeped out of the creases of her eyes.
"Did I hurt you?" Jane asked, tearing herself.
"Maybe… a little, at the start of the shock," Anna confessed. "But then it felt like jump-roping on a grid of electricity. I was seizing, but it was like… burning, buzzing, deep and hot in my muscles. I never knew my body could feel that good."
"I just… I only wanted it to be good for you. I love you too much not to give you my best effort, this first time."
"Trust me, you've ruined me for anything other than non-electric orgasms," Anna huffed, flopping fish-like and loose in the bedsheets. "Like, am I going to build up a tolerance, or something? Or are my muscles going to get super strong from getting shocked so much? Or the opposite, like atrophy? Can we do that every time, or do we have to limit it?"
"I should probably do some research on the physiological aspects of prolonged muscular and neurological electric stimulation. I want it to feel good, not like vaginal ECT."
"Ummm, talk dirty to me," Anna teased.
Jane pinched her hip in retaliation.
"I only mean that I do feel the jolts inside of my body when I do it, but I've never suffered any adverse effects," Jane explained. "Though it might just be my body conditioned to it."
"Or you have special orgasm powers."
"I don't want to injure you," Jane said seriously. "You're not exactly made of proper conducting materials."
"You mean you get yourself off like that?!" Anna asked, rolling over top of Jane. Her body was still screaming but she craved to connect with Jane again, and again, and again. "How the hell am I supposed to compete with that?"
"There's no competition. You'll be better, because it's you," Jane reassured her.
"Damn straight. I guess now I've got something to work for," Anna placed a gentle kiss to Jane's brow. "I do love a challenge."
They spent moments kissing, puckered lips and sloppy tongues mellowing into the hallmarks of genuine affection, brief pecks and smiling exchanges.
"Do you think people talk this much during sex?" Jane asked, truly inquisitive.
"Pillow talk?" Anna asked, genuine inquiry in her voice, too. She wondered if sex was this easy for other people. "I don't know. I tend to be rather vocal anyway—"
"You pant and whine louder than a neglected Labrador."
"Anyway," Anna continued, "It's not like I get off on the voices. I do recall someone saying I had a sexy southern drawl."
"So sexy."
"You want me to—"
"Not this time," Jane stopped her. "Just you. Maybe… later, when we're more, uhm—"
"When we become Sapphic sex masters?" Anna goaded.
"Uhm, sure," Jane said, blushing. "But right now, just you. Is that alright?"
"Yes, of course," Anna consented, and brushed her lips over Jane's. "I think I've adequately recovered."
"Okay," Jane said, and maneuvered herself back onto the pillow in the middle of the bed. "I'm… I suppose, ready when you are?"
Anna smirked down at the woman below her and flopped back to sit on her knees. She had moved between Jane's barely spread legs, Jane's breasts and center still covered by those lacy swatches of carmine-colored fabric.
"You're such a girly girl beneath your harnesses and black turtlenecks," Anna commented, shuffling down to the foot of the bed. She remembered how Jane whimpered when she spoke to her the other morning in Vegas, how verbal, auditory stimulation worked just as well for Jane as the biting did for Anna. Her velvet voice, her sound after years of silence, would be her gift to Jane.
"What are you doing?" Jane asked, sitting up properly, her legs pointed out before her.
"I'm going to tell you a story," Anna said, and reached for Jane's ankle. She curled her fingers, prompting Jane to sit up with her, and steered Jane's legs so that the blonde woman was sitting Indian style.
"You're going have a hard time getting to the goods with me in this position."
"Hush, and listen," Anna cajoled, dramatically clearing her throat. "Once upon a time, there was a lonely conwoman."
Anna gestured haplessly toward her naked body. Jane huffed in good humor.
"And she was a wonderful conwoman. Probably the best in the entire world. She had even conned the most brutal, slickest cons in the game."
Jane scoffed, and Anna stuck a warning pointer finger in her direction.
"She had everything she ever wanted. Fancy clothes, houses, cars, art and portraits from the ages, money, prestige, the eye of every well-connected man… and woman," Anna added. "But she didn't have a challenge."
Jane threaded her fingers together and placed her hands in her lap, both confounded and intrigued by Anna's narrative seduction. Anna placed her fingertips around Jane's wrists, then slid them up along her forearms and elbows so that she leaned forward, face to face with Jane.
"And then one day, while working, she met a pair of glorious wrists."
"Wrists?"
"Wrists," Anna said, and took Jane's arms in hers and lavished the blonde's bony wrists with kisses and sucks. "You see, these wrists appeared out of thin air and pulled her into this different world, a world of technology and synchronized watches and security cameras. They were the only things the conwoman could see, because hands were covered by gloves, and forearms shielded by sleeves. It was all very alien to the conwoman, this world, these wrists, but she felt safe. Because those wrists were working with her, were supporting her. She didn't particularly like those wrists, but she knew they wouldn't let her down. She trusted those wrists."
Anna placed Jane's arms back across her knees, then nudged Jane up so that the blonde was sitting in the center of the bed. Anna slithered behind her, spreading her legs so that Jane was sitting between them.
"She never thought she'd see those wrists again. Until low and behold, a few weeks later, the conwoman met a spine."
Jane chuckled while Anna ran her hands along her bumpy vertebrae.
"A spine?" Jane questioned.
"Oh yes," Anna said, then moved to unhook the clasp of Jane's brassiere. She removed the lacy material and tossed it over the bedside. "You see, the conwoman had been fascinated by those wrists. She didn't like them, but she was drawn to them." Anna teased the notched protrusions of Jane's back, crawling the lumbar ladder with light touches and soothing caresses and the odd, sweeping lick of tongue at the ridges of Jane's backbone. "So the conwoman did a little research on those interesting wrists she'd met. Found out about their penchant for jewelry pilfering." Anna turned Jane's neck to the side and kissed it, suctioned it, nibbled at the pale flesh as her arms came around Jane to knead abundant breasts.
"The research didn't fail her," Anna murmured, and performed a half-body roll as she melted into Jane's back, Jane nestling against her front. "And so she sparred with the spine, this wonderfully flexible line of bone that twisted and bent and hurdled over dangerous lasers."
Anna pressed against Jane's back with one hand so that it warped and arched into her touch around the front. Anna pinched and rolled a nipple while maintaining pressure along Jane's back, and nursed the left side of Jane's neck with her words and crafty little tongue.
"And that spine gave the conwoman such… delicious, tawdry thoughts."
"Even then?" Jane gasped.
"Especially then," Anna whispered. "I remember thinking you were so… bendy." Anna cleared her throat again, back to her story.
"Anyway, weeks went by and the conwoman could no longer deny her infatuation with those wrists, with that spine. And in the middle of her big job, completely unexpected, was the conwoman confronted by a set of legs."
Anna pulled her own legs from around Jane's sides and rose to sit behind Jane on her knees. Anna's hands floated down Jane's exposed obliques and followed the dip of her hips, the concave sides of her ass, until Anna's hands ran up the meat of Jane's thighs. Her breasts pressed into Jane's shoulder blades and Anna sighed into the warmth, curled protectively over Jane. Anna buried her face in the back of Jane's hair and groped at flesh, massaging the blonde's legs until Jane fell back against her in pleasant contentment.
"These legs dropped from the sky so suddenly, like skinny debris in a tornado. They were covered in black, but even the conwoman could tell how beautiful, how perfect those legs were underneath all that fabric. And she might have gone home that very night, imagining those legs wrapped around her head, around her shoulders—" Anna moved her massaging hands to the insides of Jane's thighs.
"Anna!"
"And her head between them doing all sorts of naughty things," Anna finished, teasing rictus branded on Jane's neck.
"Even then?" Jane asked again, and her voice was charged with longing.
"Even then," Anna said. "And she was both ecstatic and miserable to find she'd be working again with those wrists, that spine, those legs, somewhere in the Caribbean. She fought with them because they were really stubborn, and super annoying at the time—"
"Hey—"
"And then she knew she couldn't deny her attraction any longer," Anna said, and she heard Jane gulp in front of her. Anna moved again, crawling around to the front of Jane, spreading the thief's knees so that Anna sat squarely between the firmly planted legs. "Because of the kneecaps."
"Kneecaps?!" Jane sputtered.
"Kneecaps. The most perfect kneecaps the conwoman had ever seen. You see, the body liked to keep herself covered, but the body needed different clothes for the job. Then the conwoman saw the body wearing her own clothes, perfectly round, creamy kneecaps brazenly taunting her, an ass just begging to be grabbed. She knew she had fallen deeply in lust with the body."
"L-L-Lust?"
Anna ravished Jane's kneecaps with kisses and caresses, and, erogenous zone or no, Jane was sputtering pathetically by the end of the session. Anna's hand stroked calves and ankles and the arch of Jane's foot while her mouth was otherwise occupied. Her hand fled toward Jane's hip and traced the curving side of her bum, fingers rubbing over the lacy fabric still covering Jane.
"I would've thrown you on the floor of the cabana and made sweet love to you, even then," Anna finished with the refrain Jane seemed so fond of.
"But then tragedy struck. There was a hitch in the plan, and the body seemed perfectly fine with throwing herself out the window. Such a stubborn body," Anna commented, running her hands up and down Jane's sides, encouraging her to lie back on the mattress. Anna pulled a pillow up and fluffed it under Jane's head, wishing for her comfort above all else. "But the conwoman could never have guessed that the body was harboring a secret."
Anna kissed her then, slow and supportive, lips hugging Jane's and tongue tasting her anxiety.
"But it didn't matter to the conwoman. Because the body had saved her life, had protected her from the sea witch's men. So the conwoman flew away with the body and got to know her, wrists and spine and legs and kneecaps and ass, arms for slack-line balancing and ears for music listening and eyes for movie-watching and nose for cronut-smelling. And the conwoman already conceded that the body was attractive, but the mind… so stimulating and unexpected and challenging. There was an unforeseen kindness in the body, an active mind and friendly demeanor beneath that shell of blank stubbornness. Such a fascinating, extraordinary brain," Anna said, and moved her hands over Jane's temples, rubbed Jane's earlobes, braided her fingers through platinum waves and peppered kisses at her hairline.
Anna moved down along Jane's body, sliding her mouth along an extended collarbone to the hollow of Jane's shoulder, hands kneading, loving and lecherous into the hour-glass curve of Jane's waist. She suckled studiously at Jane's breast and rolled her body over Jane's, settling into place between her legs. Jane's breathing was ragged and the exhales caught Anna up in their thrall, lush, amorous breaths flitting over her warm forehead and casting a spell of fever on her brow. Anna hesitated.
"So then… th-then the conwoman discovered—"
Discovered it was fucking hard to narrate while she was so turned on.
"— discovered the body's heart. The body had tucked it away, hidden it from everyone, but it showed through her benevolence, through her gracious construction of homes for the abandoned, through her firm but helpful tutoring of the overlooked." Anna kissed Jane's sternum, buried her face between her breasts and moved with Jane's heaving ribcage, up, down, up and down. The hand that wasn't supporting her body fled south to stroke the swatch of fabric covering Jane's center, coated in clear, viscous fluids. She cupped Jane below and kissed a breast above, eager to extend the foreplay and wind Jane to her tightest, so the resulting release would at least compare to (if not match) Jane's electric fingers.
"The heart loved so, so much, that it was willing to sacrifice everything," Anna said, and looked down into Jane's swimming, black-blown pupils. Anna wrestled with Jane's underwear and pulled them over Jane's hips, finally connecting with Jane, skin-on-skin. "A-And the conwoman was done for."
Anna slipped a single finger inside of Jane and began rocking. They found their rhythm in the morning light, with hips and hands and hurts and hope.
"She loved, oh how she loved that body: wrists, spine, legs and kneecaps, brain and heart that formed this woman, this beautiful, electric, deserving woman named Jane."
"Anna, oh please, Anna—"
"And they went on many adventures together until at last, Jane requited her. It took a while for them to come together—"
"God, I love you, I love you, I-love-you, Iloveyou, I—"
"For they were so very broken."
Anna inserted another finger and clambered down on all fours, her head inches from Jane's center. She guided one of Jane's legs over her shoulder. Anna continued her pumps and planted herself in position. Jane cocked one arm above her and gripped the brass bar of the headboard for leverage, the other tangled in Anna's hair.
"But when they finally came together—"
Anna pulled her fingers out and drew a slow line skyward with her tongue along Jane's opening. Jane cried out, and her nails scratched Anna's scalp, and the pain was its own pleasure and the taste its own reward.
"—it was magic."
She set to work tonguing Jane's lower lips as a painter's brush would tickle a canvas. Anna indeed loved art, physical, metaphorical, so she was willing to forgive her own clumsy endeavors if she could make up for them in earnest attempt. Tongue as tool, saliva like oils, a sedate, deliberate, upward swipe. The canvas flushed rose and shuddered below her mouth; and there was a stilted inhale from her subject beyond. Another stroke on the opposite labia, racing down, aggressive to gauge the reaction. Then desperate flicks on the stimulated protrusion at the peak with her bristle-like tongue… what image could she create with that starburst technique?
Anna sneaked a glance at Jane above her. The blonde's eyes were clenched tightly shut. It was as if someone were attempting to juice her eyeballs. A line of white teeth was exposed from a curled lip, mid-gasp and jaw unhinged. Jane was flushed from the navel upward, over galvanized nipples and gorgeously magenta cheeks. Chest heaving, fingers ripping the sheets to keep herself in earth's gravity. Jane, with all of her vertical flying, needed more experience in horizontal adventures. So Anna traded the up-and-down laps for the back and forth digs, burrowing her tongue in Jane's entrance and wiggling it about indelicately, thumbs massaging the lump of her pubic bone.
"Oh, Anna! ANNA!"
Anna made an impolite slurping sound and withdrew, wet flesh puckering and contracting below her. She wiped her chin with the back of her hand.
"Are you okay?" Anna asked.
Jane nodded and petted Anna's head, releasing her grip on the messy strands. "Why did you stop? I want you to, uh…"
"Here?" Anna asked, and dipped inside of Jane's center to wet two fingers. She then played at fingerpaints over Jane's clitoral hood, coaxing little mewls from Jane all the while.
"Tou— touch me, there, oh… please," Jane begged. "That's so nice…"
"Let's build you up a little more," Anna said, and rubbed the meat of her tongue upwards against Jane's seam.
Jane's thighs clenched around her head and Anna's stomach clutched violently, that twitching, cramping tendency that occurs right before you start sobbing. She'd never felt so possessed before, so undeniably owned and wanted. Heat shot through her body like a lit fuse that ended in her own core. She could easily explode again, but she wanted Jane to feel as she had. She wouldn't neglect her duties.
"You… you want—"
"Slow," Anna said, and slipped inside Jane again. A single finger, all the while biting the inside of Jane's thighs. Her teeth left indentations on the ivory skin, a mark of her identity on Jane's body. An impression that would fade, but for the moment whoever she was, whoever they were… identities meshed and comingled.
So many parts of them the same.
"I won't ignore this," Anna murmured against Jane's body, and proceeded to nudge Jane's bundled collection of nerves with the very tip of her tongue. Her licks were so light they hardly constituted contact, phantom pressures that were so insubstantial it was as if Anna had neglected that sensitive area with emphatic purpose.
Because she had already told Jane this rule before:
Don't give them what they want. Give them what they think they want, just a taste. Because the build up is more tantalizing (well, in most cases), than the acquisition.
Jane wants it on her clit?
Barely there. More breath than lick, a slight kiss to the hill instead of some unscrupulous assault.
And as Anna teased, her index finger slid within the balmy, slippery innards, pawing and distending the walls of Jane's sensitive cavity. She searched for that singular area that would implode Jane's universe, that would fuse the moon in the bed to Anna's persistent, burning rays.
"Jane…" Anna murmured, and widened her jaw like a crocodile, teeth plunging into the alabaster skin at Jane's hipbone. Her pointed canines submerged like stones in the palest quicksand, sinking, but never breaking skin.
"Ahhh—!"
"Sorry, love," Anna tittered to the marred area. She nursed the bony bite with her tongue while she inserted a second finger into Jane and pumped a little deeper, pasty fluids dribbling on her knuckles like stray flecks of artist's watered-down tint. The addition caused Jane's robust breathing to halt and her hips to jerk upward in an attempt to skewer herself onto Anna's attentive digits.
"Eight thousand," Anna growled, attempting to match her rhythm with Jane's lazy, full-body undulations. Her knuckles thudded against Jane's outer walls on the one of a waltz beat, one-two-three, one-two-three, as she drove and retracted, drove and retracted.
So achingly slow.
"That's how many nerve endings are on your clitoris," Anna said.
"I—hell— love num-num-numbers," Jane managed.
"I know."
Anna crossed her fingers within Jane's body, as if she were harboring a terrible secret and the classic children's out would absolve her of any uttered deception. She rotated those crossed fingers and the breadth of her knuckles hit something within Jane's channel. The pace changed from plod to gallop, and Jane bucked furiously beneath her as she inserted and withdrew, as she licked and sucked the clit above.
Jane's orgasm hit, strong and sudden as a southern thunder shower. Showers were erratic, unpredictable, soft as mist then pounding, heavy with hailstones. Jane was no exception; she was keening gently, then convulsed wetly. Her channel grabbed at Anna's fingers like silted mud would suck a booted foot. There was power in the suction as Anna's hand worked against the spasms, fighting through the contractions to extend Jane's exquisite high.
"Haaah—ah, Anna… A… Annaaaaaaah—!"
Anna had been sweating before, but she was sopping now. Drenched with perspiration and cum and humidity and Jane, succulent, voluptuous and provocative Jane. And for all the playing they did at promiscuity, for all the corsets and thongs and Madame Roses and fishnets in Amsterdam, Jane would never be sexier than on her back below Anna, shivering and swooning over Anna's touch.
Jane was glowing below her, turning, heliotropic into Anna's light. Her contentment was beautific and beguiling, like a landscaped watercolor.
Anna pulled out of Jane and rubbed the fluids with forefinger and thumb, coating her hands with Jane, licking Jane from the webbing between her fingers. Anna removed Jane's leg from over her shoulder and kissed up the shin; dragged her tongue over the kneecap and up the thigh; paused at the hip to kiss; placed short, smacking pecks up Jane's belly and toward the underside of her breast; took a nipple in her mouth and released it with a popping slurp; nuzzled the expanse of chest and neck and finally arrived at Jane's lips.
Jane brought her mouth to Anna's and sealed their lips together. She rubbed the ridges of her incisors over Anna's lips and applied miniscule pressure. Anna moaned and rolled off of Jane, but quickly wrapped her arms over the blonde and linked their legs together. Jane kissed her neck and met her gaze, promising eternity with her eyes.
"Why do you love me?"
"I just told you our love story and you ask me that?" Anna returned.
"I was hoping you would tell it again," Jane replied with a self-satisfied smile. "And again, and again, an a—" she then ruined the moment with a yawn.
"What time did you go to bed last night?" Anna asked smugly.
"I don't know. Four, maybe? It's still hard for me to sleep when you do."
"You should sleep now."
"And what will you do?"
"Stare at you naked, probably."
Jane colored, and swatted at Anna's arm. "You're awful."
"Thank you."
"I love you."
"I love you. Sleep now, if you're tired. Don't think I've ruled out round two."
"Anna…" Jane said idly, tracing figure-eights over Anna's stomach. "What are we going to do now?"
"What do you mean? With the sex? It's not like we need birth control or anything."
"No, I meant… about Hans."
"You… you want to talk about this now?" Anna asked, and her mood plummeted from euphoria to purgatory in the span of half a second.
"No, I just mean… can we stay here forever?"
"Huh?"
"Back in Phoenix? I was still really hungover, but you said you straightened out your priorities. And after everything that's happened… I still don't think I need it. Just you, Anna."
Anna placed a kiss on top of her head.
"You're everything to me, you know that?" Anna whispered.
"So… we can stop going after Hans?" Jane murmured.
And Anna remembered Jane's begging outside of Elysium, her pleas for Anna to drop it, to just let Hans go and get out while they still could. And why, why couldn't Anna have listened to her then? Jane was here, asking the same question. Jane hadn't cared about her identity, but Anna had wanted it for her. And now that Anna didn't want Jane to know anything more, Jane was offering her an out. A life, for just the two of them, free from guilt and Hans and whatever else Anna thought she knew.
And Anna thought she knew a lot: reasons why WGT needed her medical records; why a news story she'd seen in a Manhattan bar about gene splicing and sequencing suddenly connected with her possible sibling; why Hans needed the two of them, together, alive; why it had to be Weselton Genetics and Technologies; why Hans needed the kind of money only oil futures could provide. Everything was clicking and she wanted to run, run far away to a better life.
A life where it was easy to forget the bad, and focus instead on the good in her arms.
So easy.
Too damn easy.
"I don't need to know who I am," Jane reassured her. "Because I already do."
Anna didn't meet her eyes when she asked, "And who is that?"
"I'm a body in love with a conwoman. A woman named Jane, a heart, a mind, so in love with Anna Arrendale."
"What if I'm not everything you need me to be?" Anna let slip. It came cantering over her tongue reflexively, and the uncertain fissures within her that she had so deftly pushed aside were resurfacing, crumbling into violent shards that lodged themselves in her heart.
"I trust you," Jane mumbled tiredly, and snuggled onto Anna's shoulder.
"We don't need to go looking for trouble anymore," Anna said. "I'm done taking chances with losing you."
"You'll never lose me."
"Promise," Anna said. "Promise you won't leave me," Anna clung to her, stared at her, and listened to Jane's breathing even out. "Don't leave me," Anna cried softly, but Jane had already fallen asleep at Anna's side.
Anna slipped out of Jane's embrace an hour later and returned to the kitchen, famished and conflicted. They needed to get out of the country. Needed to reset their accounts. Assume new identities, settle and move, settle and move. They'd be on the run, but they'd be together, and everything would be fine.
It has to be fine.
The chants of sister-sibling-incest didn't weigh upon her as heavily as those of liar-con-betrayal. And something ominous, her calculating, logical side, even went so far as to whisper experiment to her brain, and leave it there floating in her subconscious.
The outside world could find her repulsive and that would be fine, as long as Jane didn't see her that way.
And why am I even thinking about this when it's not true!
Denial.
Reheated pancakes helped, but she couldn't ease her burdens with syrup and chocolate chips. She drank some coffee, paced about, and settled on a tentative plan. She would forget this, it's not true, and move on with Jane because it's not true, and love Jane and build a life with her and maybe try to deter Hans and WGT on her own without Jane knowing. And when it was all done, the worry would disappear and Jane wouldn't have to go through unnecessary stress (it's for Jane, of course, wouldn't want to send her back to the bottle) and Anna would be happy and safe.
She flit back upstairs to brush her teeth, so lost in her musings she didn't notice Jane creeping up behind her until the blonde's arms settled around her waist.
"Hello."
"Hey," Anna said around her toothbrush. "I'm gonna spit on you."
"Disgusting," Jane said, and let Anna rinse her mouth.
"There we are," Anna said.
"C'mere," Jane twisted her about, and pulled her in for a kiss. "You taste like me."
"How do you know what you taste like?" Anna asked with blatant cheek.
"God, I meant like the mint, Anna!" Jane said, scandalized. Jane was tussled and wrapped up in one of Anna's (dammit, their) sheets, well-rested and well-sexed. "But now that you mention it… I wanted… uhm… ready for round two?"
"Aren't we eager this morning?" Anna teased, turning back to the taps and sweeping her hair into a ponytail. She splashed water over her face and lathered soap in her hands. "I sort of wanted to talk first—"
A muffled, bell-like trill sounded from the bedroom, startling them both.
"Oh, that's my alarm," Anna said, face soapy and eyes squeezed tightly shut.
"I'll get it," Jane said, and shuffled into the bedroom.
"I think it's on the charger," Anna burbled through the water. She splashed more against her face to rid her skin of the suds. "Or maybe in my clutch, I didn't want to sleep past ten even if it was a Saturday—"
"Anna?" Jane asked, stepping tentatively back into the bathroom.
Anna patted her face dry and turned, unnerved by Jane's cloudy expression.
"What's wrong?" Anna asked.
"You said you had something to… to ask me about. To tell me? I noticed you were trying to talk to me over the past few days, but you switched topics a lot."
Oh God, did Hans get my new number? Did he text me? Leave me a voice mail?
"I— uhm, yes, but it wasn't a big—"
"I've just never seen you so uncomfortable," Jane continued. "It makes me wonder… did it have anything to do with this?"
Jane held out the little navy velvet box that housed a jewelless, white-gold band Anna had purchased in Vegas. Jane stood in her toga-like sheet, box in hand. Anna faced her in a daisy-covered robe, eyes worried, face wet, knees knocking together.
"I—I—I was going to… I mean, I didn't mean for you to see—"
"Were you going to propose to me?" Jane asked, astonished. "Is this it? Did you set that alarm on purpose?"
"Is this— God, no! You think when I propose to you it'll be in a bathroom?!"
"So you did plan on proposing?"
"I never said that," Anna defended.
"You said 'when', not 'if'."
"Look, Jane, I—"
"Yes," Jane breathed.
"Yes? What 'yes'?"
"Yes," Jane said again, smile livening and lighting her face into refracted joy.
"But I'm not proposing!" Anna said.
And what is this backtracking? I wanted to ask her, I still do, but now it's—
"So why did you buy it, then?" Jane asked, arms crossed and brow arched.
"Because I love you."
"Then timeliness is not the issue. There will be logistics, of course, but Olaf can help with that. New identity building, we'll need to get some clean socials, passports, a license, fake a health screen, or maybe get an actual health screen—"
"This is just… so unlike you! Not the details part, that is very like you," Anna said. "I didn't expect you to say yes!"
"What?!" Jane asked, affronted.
"No, not like… rejection. I just thought you'd want to… to wait."
"I'm done waiting," Jane said. The surety in her tone left Anna riveted. "No more wasted time, Anna. I've been waiting forever, and it's done me little good. We wait, and we get shot at, or chased, or robbed. I'm tired of living my life like that. And I think you forget," Jane said, grasping Anna's wrist and tugging the woman flush against her. "I am a thief. I see what I want, and I take it. So are you going to get down on your knee and ask me like your movies tell you to, or am I going to have to put you down there myself?"
Jane released the sheet and it pooled at her feet. She towered over Anna like some demanding goddess, regal and pale and sensually threatening.
Where the hell has this confidence come from and why is it turning my legs to goo? Jane had said she felt powerful… did I… did I make her this way?
"You're sure you're not just… swept up in all of this?" Anna asked, bending to her knee despite herself. The laminate tiles were cool on the floor and the ceiling fan whirred obliviously above her. She took the jewelry box from Jane with shaking, clammy hands, but extracted the ring with contrasting surgical precision. It was bright and Jane was beautiful and it was all happening so fast, but again, it was so easy to forget the speed and just look at Jane and be whisked away by love. They would have to get new identities, anyway. It could all happen, perfectly so.
Anna was nineteen. On her knees. Foolish and in love.
"I've never been more sure," Jane answered.
"Jane."
"Yes?"
"Will you… I don't want to pressure you into this just because you found the ring prematurely. Don't get me wrong, I want to be with you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and love you. I want to make you happy and take care of you and jump off of buildings and waterfalls and whatever the hell other surface you jump off of. Be with you forever, Jane."
"Take it then, if that's what you want," Jane said fondly. "I fell in love with a thief, too."
"Jane," Anna's voice flowed stronger than rushing river water. "Will you marry me?"
"Let me think about it—"
"Jane!"
"Yes!" Jane said, breathless and grinning. "Yes, Anna, I will marry you."
"Really?" Anna asked, but the band was already on Jane's finger.
"Ask me again and I'll say no."
"Get in there," Anna growled, slapping Jane's bare butt and pushing her toward the bed. Anna ripped the tie of her robe off and shucked it. Her knees hit the side of the mattress and she fell into Jane, into love, and it was so easy to let her worries fall away with her.
She was a thief.
But more than that, she was a professional liar.
"Jane! Have you seen my boots?"
Anna was darting back and forth between the kitchen and the mudroom, scrambling to pack some last minute items before their midday flight. Four days after their consummation (and numerous repeats) Anna had suggested Norway in the summer, mountains and lakes and glaciers with Kristoff and Sven for guides. She hadn't seen them in ages, and wanted to share her happy ending with friendly faces. The pair of mercenaries was going to be in Oslo waiting to pick them up, but Anna wanted some decent footwear besides shoddy gladiator sandals if she planned on setting foot that far north, summer weather or no.
It's still freaking Scandinavia.
"Jane? Jane!" Anna hollered, strolling into the hall toward the front of the house.
Anna saw the man bridal-carrying Jane's limp body in his arms. Her head was flung haphazardly over the crook of his elbow, the backs of her knees over his other arm. Her hair trailed ethereally down behind her. In the sunlit windows the man in black loomed like a homely Angel of Death, gently transporting Jane's lifeless body out of their (she'd gotten it right this time. Their!) home.
Anna's hands flew up in surrender when she glimpsed the other man in the room, feet from her with a dart gun trained on her stomach.
"Take me to Hans!" Anna shouted, mind sprinting, thinking as fast as she could. "I know what he wants and I have… I have a proposition for him."
She heard the pop off toward her right and gasped when something pricked her stomach. Anna immediately felt faint and staggered against the wall of the staircase, ripping the dart from her abdomen. Her last thought before blankness was that all things could break, even the simplest, easiest love.
OMG. That was too long. Gonna try to scale it back without sacrificing detail or explanation in upcoming chaps. Critique appreciated!