Chapter Text
Jackie really would study Shauna, if she could. Just like, get in there and see how her brain works. Jackie isn't a psychologist, nor is she a brain surgeon. But she likes to consider herself a Shauna expert. She likes to!
Shauna consistently, always manages to prove that Jackie is not so much of an expert as she thinks.
Because, look. Jackie thought she knew Shauna like the back of her hand in high school, when they were super-best-friends with homoerotic-extreme-jealousy problems. She thought she knew that Shauna was a little insecure—so it'd make her feel good to know that Randy Walsh was always asking about her, right? And she thought she knew that Shauna was also really fucking hot and just didn't know it—so Jackie should encourage her to wear hot things, right? Then Shauna fucked her boyfriend behind her back, went to a different college than they planned—and not before telling Jackie that she's a boring, tragic, controlling bitch.
Jackie's not bitter about it. Why would you think that?
Anyway, then in her early-college days, Jackie thought Shauna hated her and wanted nothing to do with her. Because... duh. Can you blame her for thinking that? But then Shauna drove 3 hours from Brown just to see her, knocked on her door, and acted like the world’s worst solicitor as she said she may or may not have fucked up really badly. And Jackie thought, okay, so they're good now, right? Because, let’s be real, she’d already pretty much forgiven her. (Absence makes the heart fonder or whatever.) But then Shauna miraculously forgot to call for the rest of the year, until the end of the semester when she came barreling back into Jackie's life, full of more half-hearted apologies and self-pity and plenty more self-sabotage to come.
Jackie had already definitely forgiven her by that point. But still. Shauna is an enigma. Shauna doesn't make any sense—she never has, even if Jackie thought she ever did.
And they're okay now—out of college, packed into an apartment that's just a bit bigger than they need. Because Jackie insisted on it, desperately trying to avoid any more lingering hostilities about them sharing too much space.
Oh. And they're dating, which is... A bit crazy, and highschool Jackie would have passed out and died if she heard that. It just kind of… happened? (It's crazy what a little alcohol, a fully-developed prefrontal cortex, and a night in together can get you to admit.)
Still, Jackie likes to hear Shauna say 'I love you' every day (and Jackie now knows to say it back, even if she thinks it's totally obvious that she's head over heels for one Shauna Shipman). Still, Jackie likes when Shauna makes her good morning coffee and kisses her goodnight and wakes her up by kissing the pulsepoint on her neck. She just likes to confirm that Shauna still likes her. A little check in, you know?
Shauna still has some crazy way of surprising her, though. It's actually infuriating, a little. But it's okay, Jackie loves her.
She loves her, even when—
"I want you to be mean to me," Shauna murmurs between sideways kisses, their bed dimpled in with the weight of their bodies.
It's so jarring that Jackie has to lean back and take stock. Jackie's cute little librarian skirt (as Shauna calls it) is rucked up to her waist, lips pink from Shauna's sucking, buttoned blouse pulled open and hanging to expose a cup of her lacy flowery bra. Shauna's equally as disheveled—well, not really, because Jackie's polite when she's messing up Shauna's looks, and Shauna's like a rabid dog—her dark hair bunched to the shape of Jackie's hands, lipgloss spattered on her cheek and smearing her upper lip, jeans already half-undone... Red grooves at the base of her neck from her nails. (It's not Jackie's fault she gets manicures.)
Anyway, they were about to have sex, if that wasn't clear. And Jackie's a very impatient girl. So this question? Extremely out of the blue. Especially in sex-brain-mode. Jackie needs, like, several seconds to turn her prefrontal cortex back on. Starting now.
The thing that gets her the most is that Shauna initiated this. Like, yeah, sometimes Jackie will get a little… controlling, when they're all tangled in bed and Shauna is whimpering her name and like—who wouldn't? Sometimes Jackie just needs to feel and touch and make Shauna feel good . But she's always the one to start that. Climbing into her lap when Shauna’s supposed to be doing something else, pressing up on her from behind, tugging her down when she's trying to rudely get out of bed in the morning… Jackie has her fun. They switch, when Jackie initiates it. (Because otherwise she's always content to lay there and take whatever Shauna gives her because again who wouldn't —she's getting off track.)
But Shauna started this tonight. She came home from her writer's club (she knows that's not what it's called but that's what it is—like a book club but you read each other's writing or whatever, seems pretentious but Jackie would never comment, except for the times she comments) and pushed Jackie right into this very mattress. She hadn't even had any time to take off her makeup. Or, like, breathe. Shauna was kissing the shit out of her before she knew it. And she wasn’t complaining, don't get her wrong, because if Shauna does that, it means she's about to get fucked silly , and why would anyone complain about getting fucked silly by Shauna Shipman?
Except she is not getting fucked silly! Shauna is asking her to be mean to her. To… top her? Or whatever the kids call it. It's just… a juxtaposition (hah, take that Shauna, she knows big literary words too) that's hard to wrap her head around. All that forceful, dominating kissing-her-like-she's-gonna-fuck-her-brains-out energy, and now this.
And, again, Shauna's never asked for her to be mean. Because, how does she even do that?
Several seconds have indeed passed.
"You huh?" Jackie breathes, finally, eyelashes batting as she finally regains ample brain power to make thoughts.
“You know,” Shauna says, like she knows. No, she in fact does not.
She gives it her best shot. “Like… in bed?”
Shauna rolls her eyes. “No, Jackie. In real life. Yes, in bed.”
Her asshole-ry. Truly, it knows no bounds. Jackie sits up a little straighter, unbuttoned blouse falling open even more. The whole cup of her bra is just, like, out now. She’s actually a wet dream, and Shauna’s asking her to… what, abuse her sexually? Okay, maybe not, but still. “Okay, I'm not exactly a sex expert here, so. Use that ivy league brain of yours and elaborate .”
Another eye roll. As if Jackie is the one being unreasonable here. Seriously. What the hell does I want you to be mean to me even entail? God, Shauna and her dedication to communicating as little as possible at every possible moment. “Degrade me.”
Oh, sure. Jackie would have actually preferred if Shauna shot her through the head. It would have been less jarring.
“Degrade you,” she echoes. Maybe it’s April Fools.
“Yeah,” Shauna goes on. “Call me names, stuff like that. I dunno, manhandle me.”
“ Manhandle you,” another echo, this time more incredulous. Jackie is literally sitting in front of this girl with acrylic manicured nails, heat-waved hair, and a full face of (smudged) makeup. And she is being asked to manhandle . Let alone manhandle her girlfriend, who carries her to bed half the time because Jackie doesn't want to walk. What is this. Is she mad? Did she fall down the stairs, do a somersault, and shake up her brain into a 7/11 slurpee?
“Okay, can you stop being so—” Shauna snaps, gesturing to Jackie’s narrowed eyes, “—so judgmental?”
“I am not being judgmental—”
“You so are! You’re judging me. God, I shouldn’t have even said anything, just fucking forget it.” Shauna sits up too, violently beginning to fix her hair that Jackie ruined. Great, she's in self-destruct mode. Bomb-defusal begins now. The first few rows are an explosion zone!
Then Shauna sniffles.
… Alright, her bad.
Maybe Jackie was not exactly being very supportive or healthy there. Ugh, she hates being wrong. Worst feeling ever.
“Shauna, okay, relax,” she sighs, kneeing herself over to Shauna’s side and placing her hands in Shauna’s lap. “I’m… down.” Okay, well now she’s just overcompensating. Because, again , what the fuck does be mean to me entail? Shouldn’t she ask before she goes agreeing to stuff—
“Really?” Shauna asks, unconvinced.
“Yeah,” Jackie squeaks, too late to back out now. “Just, like… you actually want that?”
There’s a brief nod from Shauna, something flashing in her eyes that Jackie can’t put to pieces. If she were five years younger, naïve and entirely under the belief that she knew Shauna like she knew her favorite skirt, she’d say it was probably gratefulness. Now she’s not so sure. Because, even if it is gratefulness, a grateful look from Shauna can mean anything from thank you to I wanna fuck you to fuck off . No, she doesn’t know how it works either. Please direct all complaints to Shauna Shipman and her weird ivy-league brain and her eight-dimensional ass personality that Jackie has been trying to decode since kindergarten.
Anyway, she doesn’t know what the look is. It’s relief and lust and need and thanks and something way, way darker, all twined into a twizzler, then a knot, then melted into a fucking soup.
… To be clear, she loves her girlfriend, even though she’s a complex mess and it makes Jackie want to shake her around sometimes. She very much loves Shauna and is in love with her, if there was any doubt. Which, for the record, the fact that she loves her so much is why she’s even considering doing something like this for her. The thought of being mean to Shauna actually kind of makes her sick to her stomach.
(Reminds her too much of when she was mean on accident. Pushing red dresses into unwilling arms, tugging too hard on hair to get it into a braid, selfish and selfisher. That's not her anymore. She never meant it with bad intent, but still. The thought of ever making Shauna feel bad makes her want to twist inside-out and tweezer out all the parts that don't make Shauna happy.)
“Um, okay,” she finally says. Confirms it, really. “I guess like, lay down?”
Shauna shoots her a look. God, she literally just started, what ?
“Can you at least pretend that you actually want—” Jesus fucking Christ.
“Sorry, did I say you could talk?” she snaps, and Shauna’s mouth screws shut. There’s this twang of guilt immediately, an urge to go I'msosorrypleaseforgivemeShauna , but the flash of arousal in Shauna’s eyes shuts it down pretty quick.
…Okay then. This'll make Shauna feel good? Jackie can do it, then. Easy peasy! What's a little amateur degrading between girlfriends with unresolved communication issues?
Shauna lays down on the bed. Her jeans are still unbuttoned, zipped down and showing just a peek of her black underwear, flannel pushed down her shoulders and barely hanging onto her upper arms. Jackie crawls over her, straddling her hips with ease. She’s familiar with this position, at least. Makes… whatever this is a little easier.
She doesn’t know how far she’s supposed to go with this. She’s watched porn vaguely like this before (she kind of wishes she was given a moment to actually study for this kind of thing), but it’s all… not really her. And Shauna will probably know it’s not really Jackie if she goes blurting out stuff like you’re such a greedy slut and I'm gonna fuck you raw or whatever. But… the inspiration is there.
“You just gonna stare at me, or…?” Shauna prompts, her chest heaving as she looks up at Jackie. Her hair is shucked up, staticked over the pillow, dark eyes narrowed with an intensity Jackie literally does not think she can match. But admittedly, yes, she was just staring.
“Maybe,” Jackie quips back. This is, like, actually really hard. “Sorry, did you want something from me?”
There’s a tick in Shauna’s jaw and Jackie wonders if that was too far… somehow.
“Can you fuck me?” Shauna asks. God, that is the politest Jackie has ever heard her. What the fuck?
“Oh, wow,” she murmurs, eyebrows shooting up. “I mean, that’s bold, Shipman.” God, what’s a mean thing to say? Right now she’s just being a brat. Fuck it, she’ll come up with something soon. Just stall. “You gonna say please, too?”
Shauna’s jaw tenses tighter. Eyes darkening.
A beat. One, two. Good, more time to think of insults.
“ Please .” The word is so strained it’s a miracle it came out at all. Shauna’s hips jerk up and their pelvises collide—it’s just a bump, but Jackie nearly falls forward at the responding rush of heat and arousal and oh fuck, is it too late for Shauna to fuck her ?
She takes in a breath, pretending like she’s thinking it over and not gaining her bearings again. “Why don’t you take off your jeans? Let me see what—what I'm—um, what we’re working with.”
Great save.
There’s a huff of air, but Shauna does it, starting to pull down her jeans. She mutters, “You know, you kind of suck at this.”
Jackie scoffs. Scoffs hard. Okay, seriously ? She was given, like, no prep time at all for this! What the fuck was she supposed to do, just miraculously have practice in being a dominatrix? Read Shauna's mind?
Oh, obviously. Sorry, she forgot! She is supposed to read Shauna's mind, because otherwise she’ll never get told anything! And God, Shauna’s such a fucking—you know what? She’ll show her—
Her fingers twitch and her hand rears up before she can stop it, cracking against Shauna’s cheek with an audible thwack . It’s not very hard, barely moves Shauna’s head with the force.
Yet the response is immediate. A dirty moan (straight from a fucking porno, what the fuck) and darkening cheeks, then, “ Harder .”
Jackie’s pissed, so she does it again. Right across the face—a crack this time, Shauna’s head snapping to the side, tumbling back against the pillows with it, a hand barely fumbling out behind to catch herself. She moans. Again. “Yeah. Fuck, Jackie, like that.”
“You’re… you're weird,” Jackie snaps (nice insult, Hannah Montana ) and now she’s mad for a different reason, because her girlfriend, whom she loves so very much, apparently likes to be roughed up during sex. And Jackie was never informed of this, so she never got a chance to practice and make it actually good for her. (And like, what about safe words? Isn't that a thing? What’s their safe word, huh?!)
Clearly Shauna wants her to be mad, and Jackie would give Shauna anything she wants, so now she’s mad. Congrats, Shauna. And whenever she’s mad at Shauna—fabricated or not—she finds that she ends up going to… a certain specific headspace. (You know; highschool woes, Nokia flip phones, two girls revolving each other so close that a collision is simply inevitable, holding resentment like a stolen journal and a load of untold secrets written in it.)
She finishes, a little less juvenile, “You actually have problems. In the brain, Shauna. There’s something wrong with you.”
Shauna flinches, clutching her cheek (not in pain—almost in reverence, like she’s trying to keep the shape of Jackie’s handprint there) as she looks up. Then, a small, imperceivable smile as she takes in Jackie’s flushed cheeks and blazing eyes. “Yeah?”
“ Yeah ?” Jackie mocks immediately, pushing Shauna’s chest and slamming her down into the bed until she bounces, rebounds. Grabbing her jeans, yanking them off. “You know this is weird, right? It’s fucking weird. You’re asking your girlfriend to be a bitch to you.”
She practically rips Shauna’s jeans clean off when they get stuck on her ankles. But they come off, Jackie throws them, they are no longer her concern. Shauna hasn’t spoken again, staying dutifully quiet as Jackie then lunges for her flannel like a fucking animal. She needs Shauna naked now . It’s her right.
“I know it’s weird,” Shauna finally breathes, not helping Jackie at all, letting her manhandle her. Fuck, Jackie’s manhandling. God damn it.
Maybe that’s what entices her to cut a little deeper.
“You spent half our life whining about me controlling you,” Jackie blurts before she can think about what it means to be saying these words, diving a knife into the very thing they’ve purposefully cut around for most of their relationship. “And now you’re practically begging for it.”
To her surprise though, Shauna just inhales sharply, nods, chokes on a shaky, “Yeah.”
Shauna’s almost naked now. Just a simple black bra—Jackie furiously tore the tanktop right off her after the flannel went—and black boxers. Shauna’s thighs are pressed tight together, like she doesn’t want Jackie to get in there. Or maybe because she wants Jackie to forcibly push them apart. Jackie’s mind fogs with lust at both possibilities.
“So what does that make you, Shauna?” Jackie prompts, palming Shauna’s knees, nails digging in threateningly. “Come on, you’re supposed to be smart, aren’t you? Mmh, okay well, debatable. S.A.T. Question, what’s a word for someone who complains about being treated like shit, then begs for it later?”
A choked-out moan. Panting. Shauna squeezing her eyes shut, jaw working back and forth, back and forth. Jackie thinks about taunting her to answer.
But she doesn’t have to.
“Hypocrite,” Shauna simpers, weakened and desperate. Still, she chokes a laugh, “Want me to spell it?”
“No, dumbass,” Jackie huffs, and just like Shauna wants, she rips her legs apart. She grips both of Shauna’s knees and pushes until they’re pressed flat on the bed, thighs parted wide. “The word I was looking for was pathetic anyway.”
In the middle of Shauna’s boxers is the proof Jackie craves—a dark, obscenely large spot that smells just like arousal. To Jackie, it smells like victory.
“ So pathetic,” Jackie repeats, and finally makes contact—pressing a palm over top of her cunt. Shauna’s hips twitch immediately, a soft whimper falling from her lips. Jackie’s heart races with the need to hear it again . “You wanna get fucked, Shauna?”
“ Please ,” Shauna begs. Jackie likes the sound of it. Wants to draw it into her mouth like hard candy and suck it to a pebble.
“That’s so embarrassing,” Jackie snickers, her hand drifting up to press three fingers against the sodden spot on Shauna’s boxers, rubbing keen circles there—because Jackie isn’t stupid, and she could find Shauna’s clit in her sleep.
Shauna jerks like she’s being possessed, the knee that Jackie let go of bending inwards, trying to close in, block Jackie out. Jackie is having none of that.
“Oh my God, keep your fucking legs spread,” she groans, adjusting her straddle to sit on the errant leg, holding it down. Shauna whines and yes, she’s sure this is uncomfortable, she’s sure it hurts to have your legs spread at such a flat angle, but Shauna can take it. Her and her stupid runner’s legs. “Come on, Shauna, we both know you know how to open your legs for whoever asks.”
“ Fuck you,” Shauna’s response is immediate, visceral, hips bucking—which only serves to press her further into Jackie’s fingers, keening harder. Jackie wonders if she went too far with that comment. Again, they dance around that topic a lot—not just barrel through it in the sake of dirty talk. But oh well.
“You wish you were fucking me,” Jackie manages to recover, now sitting on Shauna’s bent knee, her hand pushing down the other, keeping Shauna spread open like a fucking yoga pretzel. Her free hand finally returns to rubbing circles over Shauna’s underwear, the damp fabric catching her clit again and again and again and—
“Jackie,” Shauna sobs, her body undulating, twisting and rippling and rocking away and into the touch all at once.
“Yeah?” Her voice is mock-sweet, dripping with condescension. She has no plans to go any further than these teasing little circles any time soon. “You know, most people wanna be loved. But you hate that. You hate that people love you.”
“ Jackie —” Shauna gasps for breath, panting so hard that words can’t even make it out.
“I’m just saying.” Three finger circles grow rougher, tighter, harder. Shauna practically screams through heavy breaths and needy whines. “You always were a little freak like that. You do a good job at hiding it and all, but damn. If I knew you liked this—”
A pathetic mewl. Tears in Shauna’s eyes from the stimulation that’s just not enough and Jackie knows it. She knows it’s not enough.
(It’s actually getting kind of sad, and Jackie’s starting to lose this mean-to-Shauna mindset because she feels bad, so she’ll throw her a bone.)
“Admit it,” she murmurs, moving to up-and-down strokes now. Shauna’s boxers are ruined and they’re clinging to her folds so bad Jackie can hardly rub anymore. “Admit you’re a freak, and I’ll fuck you.”
“I’m a freak,” Shauna says instantly , no preamble, genuinely catching Jackie off guard. “I was, I am—still am—Jackie, please—”
(Thank God. She really did not wanna tease anymore.)
Jackie’s fingers leave Shauna’s clit, not without a genuinely heartbreaking sob from Shauna’s lips, and quickly hook into the leg hole, crooking into the wet crotch, yanking down. Shauna shudders beneath her, her chest rising hard and fast, stomach muscles twitching, shivering. They don’t come off all the way, but it’s good enough. Enough space for Jackie to get her hand in there, find the absolute mess between her girlfriend’s legs, and thrust —
Shauna moans when Jackie’s fingers find home, two at first, hilting right into her absurdly wet, burning warmth. Like a furnace, Jesus. And then they go still. “ Jackie , please, I'm fucking begging you, oh my God—”
“So impatient,” she chides with a dramatic huff, leaning down to kiss Shauna’s twitching stomach before lifting back up. The angle is awkward, sitting on one of Shauna’s legs, bending it like a greater-than symbol, one hand pushing the other one open, the other working furiously between her legs. She'll be cramped as fuck, but Jackie’s always been stubborn enough to get it done. “I’ll get to it, you little freak. You only get what you deserve.”
That makes Shauna shudder, whole-body, Jackie feels it everywhere. “Yeah. Yeah, I deserve it. Fuck—I deserve this.”
Hm.
Shauna’s head throws back onto the pillows, jerking spastically beneath Jackie, and the thing is—she could absolutely dislodge Jackie if she wanted. They both (probably) know this. Jackie weighs the equivalent of a wet cat and it’s not like she’d put up much fight. She'd probably go flying with a well-timed buck. But Shauna doesn’t. She shivers and squirms and begs , even, but she doesn’t take control. She doesn’t even… seem to want control.
Which is interesting to Jackie. Shauna Shipman, the girl who made such a big deal about Jackie “making her an extra in the movie of her life” and “making her do everything she wanted all the time”, is willingly laying here while Jackie torments her with two fingers, some nasty words, and a dream. It’s just… weird. Maybe there’s… something else going on here—
“Ja—ckie,” Shauna sobs brokenly again. “ God , please, move , I need you.”
I need you. Jackie’s favorite words. Shauna really must be desperate.
Jackie hums lightly, and like a benevolent God, pushes her rational thought to the side, and slowly begins to pump her fingers. Shauna clenches down instantaneously, blubbering in relief, hips bucking as best she can to get more , and it’s kind of cute, so Jackie obliges her. Fucking Shauna is one of Jackie’s favorite things to do.
She’d usually be encouraging her right now, whispering ‘ I love you, take it for me, love you so much ’ in her ear and kissing the side of her face until it would be covered in sparkly lipgloss. But that’s not really what Shauna asked her to do now, is it? (She would really , really like to do that, though. Hasn’t Shauna taken enough? Can Jackie go back to loving her yet? This is so exhausting.)
“How’s that Ivy League brain?” Jackie taunts, crooking her fingers, feeling Shauna’s legs spasm beneath her hold. She pumps faster, pulling out to her knuckles, leering at the glittery arousal that soaks them, then hilting back in. A metronome. “Can you still recite poetry, hmm? or are you getting fucked stupid?”
Shauna laughs bitterly, despite all the whimpering she’s doing in between. “G-God, fuck, mh— h-hope is the thing with —nnh— feathers .”
Ugh. That’s cute. Jackie wants to kiss her. She may or may not be not cut out for this mean dom thing.
“Yeah?” Jackie taunts instead, pumping her fingers even faster, until Shauna’s eyes roll into the back of her head, and she’s clenching so tight Jackie worries she’s not going to be able to get her fingers back in there after every thrust. “Too bad brains don’t really matter when you’re getting held down and fucked like a cheap whore, huh?”
Shauna’s breath stutters, eyes slamming shut, body going rigid—Jackie knows she’s so, so very close, teetering that edge. And all it would take is one little upwards crook of her fingers to the shelved soft spot on her front wall and she’d be a goner.
Jackie does the meanest thing she can think of and pulls her fingers out.
“N— no , Jackie, Jackie—please—” Shauna immediately stammers, and she’s fighting for real now, her hips actually bucking with enough force to almost knock Jackie off. But she stays, force of will, holding down Shauna’s stomach with a wet hand. “ Jackie , I'm so close, just please—”
(Oh God, why can’t she just be nice? Just give Shauna what she wants, feel her cum on her fingers, lick it clean—)
“See, now this is pathetic,” Jackie muses, drawing little hearts on Shauna’s belly in her sticky arousal. Her brain is full of you’re so pretty and love you so much and doing so well , but she's forcing her mouth to spew the opposite. She's gotta balance it out somehow.
“Jackie, what—what do you want me to do?” Shauna pants out, her hair a knotted mess on the pillow, eyes shimmering wide and desperate. Jackie’s never seen her like this before. It’s… both saddening and addicting. “Just tell me, tell me, I—I’ll do it, fuck. I need—”
“Oh, sorry, did you want to cum?” Jackie asks, feigning innocence. And, okay, maybe she’s getting a little personal now: “I mean, I couldn’t tell. You’re really fucking bad at communicating.”
Shauna’s breath hitches hard, and she bites her tongue, her pride already in tatters. “I’m… fuck… I'm sorry—I want to cum, please, Jackie. Can I cum?” She pants. Drools a bit. “I’ll be a good girl this time.”
Jackie soaks through her panties. Just—goodbye, panties. They’re ruined now. On the spot. Her breath comes choked.
“Oh?” She breathes, trying not to sound completely and utterly fucking wrecked. “You’re gonna be a good girl? My good girl?”
Shauna chokes on the moan she makes, nodding feverishly, “Yeah—yes, Jackie.”
And literally what is Jackie supposed to do other than shove her fingers right back into Shauna’s waiting, dripping cunt?
“ Oh God —fu-fucking hell— thank you—” Shauna chokes when Jackie’s fingers (three this time) sink right into her, twisting up, unfurling right into that spot , and Jackie moans too because Shauna’s saying thank you and that’s the hottest thing she’s ever fucking heard somehow.
“Fuck, Shauna,” she pants, hips stuttering against Shauna’s leg, can’t help it, friction required . Her hand straining, stretching, thumb landing on Shauna’s clit and pressing down—
Shauna jerks, tightens, a hand grabs her hip. She hasn't been touching at all, and so finally feeling her touch sends Jackie’s brain into essentially a shutdown. Heat flares, her body reacts, her poor panties are going in the trash after this. And Shauna sobs: “Going to—gonna— can I —”
Oh God, she’s being so fucking good.
“ Cum for me, Shauna,” Jackie demands, or orders, or begs, and it doesn’t really matter which is which because Shauna does because she’s being good, and Jackie actually needs to get off right this fucking instant . She’s rocking on Shauna’s muscled thigh, stiffened clit throbbing against her underwear and Shauna’s hardened tendons and she might die but that can wait though because—
Shauna shouts out mangled syllables vaguely resembling her name, and then she’s tightening so fucking painfully around Jackie’s knuckles, inner walls going taut, then a rush of warmth as her orgasm floods, paints, and coats Jackie’s fingers, knuckles, rivulet-ing to her wrist.
Jackie can’t help it. Can’t stop it. She exists on fumes.
“ Shauna —fuck, good girl ,” she moans out nearly pathetically, her hips stuttering against Shauna’s leg. She’s grinding exquisite pressure into her own clit but she’s more fucking aroused by the way Shauna whimpers at Jackie’s praise, how her walls clench up again in residual aftershocks just because Jackie called her good . There isn’t much better than that. She falls apart in every single way. “You’re so good, Shauna—I love you, I'm so sorry , I love you so fucking much, I didn’t mean—mean—oh—oh, Shauna —”
“Jackie—”
And then Jackie turns to, practically, a soup. Cumming on Shauna’s leg, soaking her already drenched panties. Embarrassingly quick, if you think about it, but she’s not thinking about it, because she’s flopping forward, her face planting firmly into Shauna’s chest as her body twitches and stutters with her orgasm. Her fingers pull out, landing bonelessly on Shauna’s stomach, aching with cramps already. (She’s delicate. God did not make Jackie Taylor with the wrist strength of a lesbian, unfortunately. That has not and will not stop her, though.)
Arms wrap around her almost instantly, smushing their bodies together, sweat making them both slippery and sticky at once. All of Jackie’s clothes are sticking to her. It’s so fucking hot in here.
Long, heavy breaths fill the room. Jackie feels a little insane. No, a lot insane.
“You, um…” Shauna eventually says, “You’re still on my leg, can you—”
“Oh my God, yeah,” Jackie stumbles over her words, rolling to the side until she’s resting between Shauna’s legs (which come up to cradle her hips on reflex) instead of on top of one of them. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine. You weigh two pounds.”
Every time she tells Jackie she’s not heavy, the pound count goes down by an absurd amount. Soon Jackie will, apparently, weigh in the negatives. Can’t wait.
“Mmm,” Jackie mumbles, stuffing her face directly into Shauna’s chest for a moment (it’s like a reward) before propping her chin on her collarbone and looking up. Her eyelashes bat as she takes in the state of Shauna’s face, already looking down at her. Signs of regret? Pain? Suffering? Deep upset? No, not that she can see, but Shauna is an infamously fickle person to read so… “Are you cool?”
“Pretty sweaty actually,” Shauna answers, a wry lip quirk making its way onto her impassive, blissed-out face.
This girl. Jackie should strangle her actually.
(...Would she be into that though?)
Jackie blinks at her. “You are not funny,” she concurs, even though her lips quirk too. “No, shut up. Seriously, like, was that cool? Did I do it right?”
Shauna hums, hands stroking up her back and tangling in her hair, scratching at her scalp. Jackie is very content with this, and she fights to keep her eyes open, but she prevails—keeping her gaze locked on Shauna. Despite the extremely evil tactics. Finally, Shauna relents, letting out an extremely, award-winningly unhelpful, “You did fine, Jack.”
Fine. Just fine? She went completely out of her comfort zone and said really mean things to the love of her life for a fine ? Absolutely diabolical. Shauna Shipman, they should lock you up.
Jackie pouts. It’s very effective.
“My God,” Shauna groans, her head falling back for a second before re-locking eyes with Jackie. “You did great. Best I’ve ever had. Better?”
Well, yes, actually.
To keep her pride, she doesn’t say that. Even though Shauna already knows Jackie would probably commit manslaughter just for a compliment. (She is a very simple girl.) “I'm just, like… you’ve never asked for that before,” Jackie says, not relinquishing the pout, because if it isn’t broken, don’t fix it. “So… I would like some… some constructive criticism, yeah.”
“You want compliments,” Shauna deadpans.
…Okay, and? Literally everyone knows that when you ask for constructive criticism, you really just want compliments. It’s unspoken law… right? Yeah, right. Jackie is always right.
They stare at each other for a long while until Shauna groans. “I hate when you do that.”
“Do what?”
“This—” Shauna lifts a hand and circles it around Jackie’s face. “—this little look of yours. Your pout . Enough.”
“Um, that’s just my face, Shauna.”
“Might as well be with how often you pull it on me,” Shauna grumbles, “Fine, Jackie. You were perfect . You did very good . I love you a lot .”
Sarcastic compliments are still compliments, so Jackie smiles, crawling up Shauna’s body to bury her head in her neck. “Love you too, babe.”
Shauna grumbles again. Jackie knows she’s smiling. (Shauna isn’t always that hard to read.)
She should probably either think a little harder or just ask Shauna why she wanted Jackie to do all of that to her. Especially when she’s never brought it up before or mentioned liking it.
But she’s cozy right now. And Shauna’s happy. Isn’t she? Jackie did good. Maybe she is an expert in everything Shauna Shipman after all.
(...Extremely loud incorrect buzzer.)