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janet

; [interlude/closed post]

After a few dances -- with several attendees, but mostly with Lancelot -- Susan liberates two bottles of wine and a plate of food from the ballroom and slips off to go find Janet. Luckily, after struggling to track Lancelot down earlier in the week, she's made a point of mapping the location of everyone's rooms, and so she doesn't have to search to find Janet's.

She raps on the door with the back her hand, careful not to let the food or the wine jostle overmuch. "Diplomatic envoy for Queen Janet of Fillory," she calls.

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Janet's quiet again for a second. Her hand is still on Susan's thigh, which is comfortingly solid under the gown, and she rubs her thumb against it. "We're not in Europe," she points out. "We're not anywhere that we know of. I think we can do whatever. Also," she adds with another glance up at Susan, "I'm the other queen here, and I say you're right."

Susan presses another kiss to Janet's head; this one lands on her temple. "In that case," she says, aiming for a flirty, teasing tone. "Would Your Majesty like me to attend to her tonight?"

That makes Janet laugh, or at least gets a small huff of amusement out of her. "I'm not about to deny Her Other Majesty whatever she wants," she says, keeping her tone mostly pretty light.

"Diplomacy is a jolly wonderful thing," Susan says, matching Janet's tone. "A good way to affirm our newly-signed war treaty."

"Politics isn't so bad after all." There's another exhale of a laugh, and Janet drains her second mug of wine. She's feeling better, and she thinks it might not even be the booze. "This lady and her bedchamber are getting a serious upgrade."

"What sort of needs might Queen Janet have tonight?" Susan asks. "I could... brush your hair. Varnish your nails. Give you a massage." She runs her hand over Janet's shoulder, thumb brushing deliberately against her bra strap. "Or..."

She trails off. She'll let Janet set the tone.

Janet makes a considering kind of noise. She's genuinely trying to feel herself out, to figure out what she wants out of this. It's not easy at the best of times, when usually looking into herself doesn't yield much more than a core of seething anger. Tonight, it's especially difficult.

Well, she can start somewhere in the middle. "Let's say yes to the massage, no to a shirt during the massage."

"I can work with that," Susan says, running her hand more deliberately down Janet's back. "...My lady."

"Oh, is that how it's going to be?" Janet says, but she doesn't sound upset about it. She flashes another little smile up at Susan, then sits up, but only so she can start peeling her sweater off.

Susan pauses. "Do you mind if I change into something a little more... maneuverable?" The gown is gorgeous, but she can't exactly give a good massage in it.

Once she's out of her sweater and the camisole underneath it, Janet stops to look at Susan. There's a lingering half-smile on her face. "Don't let me stop you. Maneuverable is a good word."

"Just a moment, then," says Susan, and goes to rummage through Janet's wardrobe, which churns out, of all things, what seems to be a futuristic pajama set consisting of a tiny pair of shorts and a thin little sleeveless top that looks more like lingerie than anything, with its narrow lacy straps. She shrugs, though, and changes quickly into it with her back to Janet, leaving her gown draped over a chair. Once she's covered again, she unhooks her brassiere, pulling it free from her top, and drapes it over her gown, too - the one her own closet supplied to go with the gown was more decorative than functional, anyway.

Then she turns back to Janet. "Hello there," she says, taking her in.

Considering the way Susan usually dresses, it's surreal seeing her in a sexy little pajama set -- but not the bad kind of surreal. Obviously. Janet raises her eyebrows and gives Susan an exaggerated once-over. "Welcome to the sleepover."

Susan tracks Janet's gaze. "You know, despite the sorts of clothes this place tends to spit out for me by default, I've never really thought of pink as my color," she says; she prefers richer tones. "But it rather does know how to pick a flattering cut."

"You're definitely pulling it off," Janet agrees. Especially with the bra off, the overall effect is... striking, to say the least. She reaches behind herself to unclasp her own bra and then lets it slide off her shoulders.

Susan doesn't bother pretending to look away. "Have you got any lotion or oil you'd like me to use?" she asks, and then tacks on a flirty little, "Your Majesty?"

"What I wouldn't give for a Bath and Body Works," Janet says wistfully, but she'll take the excuse to stand and stretch and cross over to her desk again. This is a two-pronged attack: first, she pours some more wine into her mug. Then she grabs a bottle of lotion that's been hiding behind a stack of magic textbooks and offers it to Susan. There's no label -- maybe the mansion can't afford sponsorships? But it smells okay, a sort of generic musky floral scent.

It's actually a three-pronged attack, because Susan is feeling rather overcome by Janet just walking around bare-chested! She takes the lotion from Janet, letting their fingers brush in the process, and then picks up her own mug for a fortifying sip.

Janet takes her own long sip of wine, along with the opportunity to hide her smile, and then sets it down so that she can return to the bed. She stretches out on her stomach, pillowing her head on her hands with her face turned toward Susan, and says, "Well?"

Susan puts her mug next to Janet's and comes over. She hesitates the barest of moments, and then climbs onto the bed, too, swinging a leg over Janet's thighs so that she's straddling her. Then she squirts some lotion into her hands, cupping them together to warm it for a moment before starting in on Janet's shoulders. Her touch is firm, deep; her hands are getting stronger from her archery practice. There's a faint callus forming on her draw hand.

Janet's not usually that vocal during sex, and this is close enough to sex that she hadn't planned on being vocal here either, but Susan's thumbs digging into the knots around her shoulder blades is too fucking good. She muffles a little groan, which wants to turn into a laugh, against the inside of her own wrist. "Your Majesty," she says, "holy shit."

"I had a... brief assignation with someone learning Swedish massage several years ago," Susan explains, moving in closer to Janet's spine. She likes the warmth of Janet's body against her legs and the smooth skin of her back underneath her hands. "I learned several things."

"Mmph," Janet manages eloquently as Susan digs in right along her spine. She gets out another breathless laugh. "I owe that person a drink."

"Oh, I should like to see that! You would thoroughly overwhelm him," Susan says. She works her way down Janet's back - this first pass is to get a sense for whatever spots demand greater attention.

It's mostly Janet's shoulders that are tense and knotted up; that's the consequence of throwing around fuck-off axes to impress a girl. It's not that bad, but it's noticeable enough. "Overwhelming a man and entertaining my fellow queen at the same time? Sign me up."

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