Mino [8:23 a.m.]: *photo attachment*
Mino [8:23 a.m.]: *photo attachment*
Mino [8:23 a.m.]: *photo attachment*
Mino [8:23 a.m.]: *photo attachment*
Mino [8:23 a.m.]: *photo attachment*
Mino [8:24 a.m.]: courtesy of your publicist. looks like you had a fun time last night
Mino [8:24 a.m.]: very chummy with the co-star, jennie...
Mino [8:25 a.m.]: i have literally never seen you smile this big in my life
Mino [8:26 a.m.]: is your celebrity crush becoming a real crush??
Jennie [8:50 a.m.]: oh god
Jennie [8:55 a.m.]: also, fuck off
*
The photos are all over social media.
Even if Mino hadn't texted her, there's no way Jennie could've missed them, what with the way her mentions are blowing up.
At first, Jennie's heart races as she scrolls through Instagram, remembering Sam's comment last night about some guy recording a video and fearing the worst. But after a few minutes, she feels fairly certain that the only evidence of what happened last night is in the form of paparazzi photos.
The relief she feels soon fades though, as she realizes those are damning enough on their own.
There are five or six iterations floating around. Most show the same things: Jennie and Lisa stumble out of the club with linked arms, wide smiles, and flushed cheeks. Jennie's leaning into Lisa as she laughs, squinting against the flashbulbs. Lisa's smiling too, mouth half-open, like the camera caught her mid-sentence. Both her and Jennie's clutches are tucked under her arm.
Those photos are whatever. They're not images that Jennie would prefer to be splashed all over the internet, but they're innocuous enough. Her PR agency is probably brainstorming positive spin strategies at this very moment.
But there's one photo that makes her stomach drop.
It's dark and blurry, since it was shot through the tinted window of the Uber, but Jennie can make out the scene clear as day; she and Lisa in the back seat, bent over each other with their heads pressed together. Jennie's turned away from the camera, but the flash illuminates half of Lisa's face. She's smirking at Jennie, her one visible eye cast downward, in the direction of Jennie's lips.
But the focus of the photo — the center of the golden freaking triangle — is Jennie's left hand, resting midway up Lisa's bare leg, the tips of her fingers dangerously close to the inside of her thigh.
Jennie feels feverish just from looking at it.
The only upside is the poor quality of the image. There's no way the major publications would buy it, which is a small blessing.
But the fan accounts don't care. It becomes glaringly obvious that they're posting this particular shot more than any other.
They all caption it with variations of the same thing:
"I ship it."
*
Jennie feels fairly nauseated as she walks downstairs, gripping the railing with white knuckles.
She and Lisa have a late call time today. The car that will bring them to set isn't slated to arrive for another 10 minutes, but Jennie couldn't stand pacing around her apartment any longer.
She contemplates sitting outside on the top of the stoop, like she's seen some of the neighbors do at night, but ultimately decides against it. She can't deal with being recognized right now.
Instead, she settles on the bottom step in the foyer and goes through the motions of scrolling through her phone, though her eyes don't absorb anything on the screen.
All she can think about are the photos.
And the dancing.
And the fact that Lisa kissed her last night.
She brushes her fingers across her lips as her mind travels back to that moment, eight hours ago and one floor up. How Lisa took control, pressing their bodies together, pushing Jennie back against the wainscoting.
How she kissed her, hard and frenzied, like she'd been wanting this just as much as Jennie had; like she was insatiable.
How, in an instant, she was gone.
It's ridiculous how much Jennie had wanted to go after her, to finish what Lisa started. And she'd wondered, as she watched Lisa slowly ascend the stairs, if Lisa wanted that too.
But now, sitting in the foyer in the light of day, Jennie's glad that she second-guessed herself last night. She reminds herself that it's for the best. Distance is good.
Distance is safe.
In a few weeks, they'll finish shooting, and then she and Lisa will go back to their very separate lives.
(And if Jennie feels queasy when that thought crosses her mind, it's probably just a hangover.)
*
Jennie doesn't look up when Lisa sits next to her on the marble step.
She'd heard her coming but she acts as if she hadn't, pretending to be engrossed in her phone. Jennie's pulse has been racing since she caught the echo of Lisa's footsteps on the old staircase, and when she sees her in her peripheral vision — when she gets a whiff of her perfume — she feels like her heart is trying to jump out of her chest.
She just hopes things aren't weird now.
She hopes she doesn't make them weird.
Lisa turns toward her, but Jennie still doesn't look up.
Shit.
Fuck.
She's making it weird already.
"I think that one's my favorite," Lisa says.
Jennie glances up at that. Lisa's eyes are trained on Jennie's phone, which, Jennie realizes with no small degree of horror, is displaying one of the photos from last night.
(Why the fuck was she even still scrolling through Instagram?)
Her only saving grace is that the image she'd paused on shows them on the sidewalk, when they'd just left the bar. They're both looking in the direction of the camera with wide eyes and parted lips, surprised by the barrage of flashes. Lisa's hand is just a couple inches south of Jennie's elbow, en route to link their arms together.
"Oh yeah?" Jennie swallows thickly. "Why's that?"
"It's just such a real moment, you know? An honest reaction captured on film. Or an SD card or whatever." Lisa runs her fingers through her hair before sweeping it over one shoulder, and this time Jennie catches the scent of her shampoo. "I just feel like that's kinda rare these days. In this business, anyway."
"Hah, yeah. I guess that's true."
"Plus, we both look, like, super hot."
If Jennie's mouth wasn't so dry, she'd be worried about doing a spit-take. Instead, she barks out a strained laugh.
"Funny, that isn't what I was focused on."
(Like, yeah, she noticed. She has a pulse.)
"Hey," Lisa says softly. She knocks the side of her knee against Jennie's, getting her attention. "Are you freaking out?"
And Jennie almost laughs again because the only thing she is 100% certain of at this moment is that she is, without a doubt, fully and completely freaking out.
"No," she says.
"You're freaking out."
"I'm not freaking out. I'm just not, like..." she lifts her hand, gesturing vaguely at Lisa "...overly cavalier right now."
Lisa eyes her for a few beats and Jennie has to will herself not to look away. She wishes they weren't sitting so close. It makes it hard to think straight.
"I'm sure you've had crazier photos published," Lisa says, speaking slowly, like she's being careful with her words. "We went to a club, we danced, we had a few drinks. And now people know about it. So what?"
Jennie raises her eyebrows and shakes her head, truly at a loss. She knows Lisa must have received similar texts as Jennie from her own team this morning. That she's seen the other photo — the one that Jennie is actually freaking out about.
(Among other things. That they apparently aren't discussing.)
There are three soft raps on the door and they look up to see the silhouette of their driver through the stained glass window. They both stand and Jennie's grateful to have an excuse to put a pin in this conversation.
Ideally forever.
"Besides," Lisa says, as they cross the foyer, "we've all gotten handsy in the back of a car before, Jen. No big deal."
Jennie makes a noise that is something between a scoff and a gasp. She freezes in place, but Lisa keeps walking. When she reaches for the doorknob she pauses and looks back over her shoulder.
"I mean, I'm just lucky there weren't any paps in the hallway."
She winks at Jennie before she turns and opens the door.
*
Filming today is weird.
It's overcast for the first time since they've arrived. Clouds loom in the distance, heavy and dark, but they're shooting one of the final scenes, set in London, so the gloominess works.
There's also the fact that they kissed last night and they've only half-acknowledged it. (Well, Lisa has anyway.)
But perhaps the weirdest thing is that, after a little while, Jennie forgets it's supposed to be weird at all.
They still flirt and Lisa still teases her, but that's become their status quo. It doesn't feel awkward or stilted, no trace of the cringiness Jennie would expect to experience after a drunken makeout with a coworker.
But there's a new feeling there too. It's like they're connected by something taut and dense and sparking. Something real and palpable, that gives Jennie butterflies every time their eyes meet; that pulls her and Lisa in, drawing them to each other like magnets.
It builds and builds over the course of the day, as the storm clouds loom nearer.
And Jennie knows giving in to this feeling would be a bad idea, but by the time the rain starts to fall, she doesn't know how much longer she'll be able to resist it.
*
The drizzle is supposed to be a passing shower, so the director halts production until it lets up.
Jennie follows Lisa to her trailer to wait it out. It isn't really a decision at this point — it's what they do. A break in filming has become synonymous with napping.
Except this time, as they lie facing one another on Lisa's couch, Jennie suspects that neither of them is thinking about sleeping.
They're pressed up against one another, chest to chest, Lisa with her back to the couch and Jennie on the outside, crowded in as if she might fall off. At first, they lie still with their arms draped loosely around each other, sharing the same air with quiet, shallow breaths.
It feels like they're in stasis, teetering at a tipping point, both waiting for the other to make a move.
She doesn't mean to, but Jennie's the one to break first. She smooths her hand over Lisa's hip and down the side of her thigh, and Lisa doesn't make a sound, exactly, but Jennie feels her exhale against her cheek.
Lisa rocks her hips forward ever so slightly; it's a sliver of a movement that Jennie wouldn't have detected if they weren't melded together, but they are, and it floods her body with heat. She squeezes the back of Lisa's leg for purchase, fingers gripping just above her knee.
It's like the wave that's been building all day has crested, pulling them under, and they can't stop their hands from moving. Lisa drags her hand down Jennie's spine, starting at the base of her neck and trailing lower. When she slips her fingers up under the hem of Jennie's shirt and touches the smooth skin of her lower back, just above the waistband of her jeans, Jennie has to close her eyes at how it feels.
"Jennie?"
Lisa's voice is rough and needy and Jennie feels it between her legs. She hates that there's a question in her tone, like she's not sure they're both tumbling beneath the surf, even as Jennie traces her fingers along the band of Lisa's bra through the thin fabric of her blouse.
Jennie never wants to be the reason Lisa second-guesses herself. Not on set, not on hiatus, not when she can feel her breath against her mouth.
And so it's the easiest thing in the world for her to lift her chin and kiss her.
Lisa moans softly when their lips meet and Jennie feels like she could drift away. It's a good thing Lisa's there, seemingly intent on keeping her in place. The hand on Jennie's lower back climbs higher until she's gripping her bare shoulder. Jennie's shirt hikes up in the process, bunching somewhere around her middle. She'll have to get someone to steam out the wrinkles later, but at this moment, she really, really doesn't care.
Lisa licks along the seam of her mouth and now Jennie's the one who's moaning, a clipped cry escaping from the back of her throat. She parts her lips, letting Lisa into her mouth, shivering against her when Lisa sucks on her tongue.
The tiny fraction of Jennie's mind that can still form conscious thoughts is waiting for the dam to break, the tension to cut, the itch to be scratched. But as the minutes tick by, she finds that the need coiled inside of her only grows and grows and grows.
It seems like Lisa's right there with her. Somehow she eases Jennie onto her back — no small feat in the cramped space. She hovers above her, the ends of her hair tickling Jennie's collarbones, and when Jennie doesn't feel Lisa's lips on hers after a few seconds she opens her eyes for the first time since they laid down.
Lisa's face is in shadow, framed by her hair, but Jennie can still make out the heat in her cheeks, the unfocused darkness in her eyes.
Jennie's hands find Lisa's waist, pushing up her blouse so her greedy fingers can touch more of her. Her skin feels like it's on fire.
"Don't stop," Jennie whispers. "Don't— Lisa."
Something in Lisa's face changes, but Jennie doesn't have time to register what it means because Lisa ducks her head and kisses her again. It's even better from this angle, now that Lisa has more room to work; to nip on Jennie's bottom lip, to mouth a wet trail down her neck, to snake her hand up the front of Jennie's shirt, fingers skating along her ribs.
Lisa's everywhere and it's overwhelming, but Jennie still craves more. She hitches her knee over Lisa's thigh, urging her closer and catching her off guard. Lisa collapses on top of her, one leg settling right between Jennie's, and they both have to break away to catch their breath.
Jennie squeezes her eyes shut, wishing she could cool off. She thinks removing her clothes would be the best way to do that.
Her hips lift on their own volition at the thought, grinding up against Lisa's thigh. Lisa mutters a quiet "fuck" under her breath — driving Jennie crazy because it's something she almost never hears her do — and squeezes Jennie's waist as if to still her.
"Jennie, god."
And it's the exact wrong thing to say if Lisa really wanted her to stop because Jennie pushes against Lisa's hold and does it again.
The next time Lisa meets her halfway, rutting into her with her thigh, strong and solid right where Jennie needs her. Jennie presses her lips together, but it does nothing to stifle the moan the movement draws from her. She feels flushed and wild and painfully aware of just how wet she is right now.
The tiny fraction of her brain that continues to function registers that she should not be this turned on in the workplace, but Jennie's well past the point of caring. She's sucking on Lisa's earlobe, trying desperately to get her to do it again, when she hears the familiar static of a walkie on the other side of the door.
Lisa must have heard it too because she whines and lifts her head. When three knocks rattle against the side of the trailer seconds later, it feels like they've been doused with a bucket of cold water.
"The rain's stopped, Ms. Manoban," a PA calls from outside the door. "We're picking up again in 20. They're ready for you in makeup for touch-ups."
"Okay!" Lisa says in this fake cheerful voice Jennie has never heard before. "I'll head over there, just— Give me a minute."
Once they hear the PA leave, Lisa buries her face in the crook of Jennie's neck and groans. Jennie exhales heavily, looping her arms around Lisa's back.
"Do you think $100K would be enough?" Lisa murmurs.
Maybe it's because Lisa's lips are still pressed against her skin, but Jennie's so not following. "Enough for what?"
Lisa rolls off of her and Jennie scoots over to make room so Lisa can settle on her side against the back of the couch. She tugs on Jennie's shirt, gently pulling it back into place.
"Enough to get them to shut down production for the day," she says, biting the corner of her lip and looking almost bashful. "Enough for no one to knock on this door again for 24 hours."
"Oh my god, what?"
Jennie bursts out laughing, covering her face with her hands. Lisa grabs her fingers and pulls them down so she can grin at her. She presses her forehead against Jennie's and they both dissolve into giggles, laughing so hard it feels like the couch is shaking.
By the time Jennie leaves for the makeup trailer, two minutes ahead of Lisa, her clothes are hopelessly wrinkled and her cheeks ache from smiling.
*
(If distance is safe, why does the absence of distance feel so good?)
*
It's dark outside when Jennie finally trudges up the stairs to her apartment. She feels like several days have passed since she and Lisa sat on the bottom step in the foyer, just this morning.
Today has been long. Shooting went well past the scheduled end time, thanks to the rain. Jennie's mentally drained and her feet are achy and she thinks she's more hungover than she realized. She's also just plain tired since she didn't get much sleep last night, and she and Lisa didn't get their usual nap in.
Although, come to think of it, what they did instead of napping is probably the real reason today felt so tedious. Jennie had to spend the rest of the day pretending she didn't just have Lisa's hands up her shirt and her leg between her thighs. She had to spend hours upon hours enduring Lisa's suggestive comments and lewd (yet sexy) looks.
It took a lot out of her. She doesn't know how she made it.
She should be just about ready to take a shower, throw on some pajamas, and collapse into bed.
She should be. But she's not.
Because Lisa's trailing behind her, hand clasped in hers, and Jennie's never felt more awake.
When they reach the second-floor landing, by the door to Jennie's apartment, it feels a little like time travel. Because Lisa's backing Jennie against the wall and, as Jennie's eyes flutter closed, she feels just like she did last night, in the exact same spot.
She wonders, fleetingly, who's to say this moment is any different from the other.
But then Lisa takes hold of Jennie's wrists and pins her arms to the wall, on either side of her head, and that flight of fancy is wiped from Jennie's mind.
This kiss is messy. It's heated and charged and desperate. All Jennie can feel is the scrape of Lisa's teeth and the wetness of her tongue, and she's thankful Lisa's holding her against the wall because, otherwise, she might slide down it.
"God," Lisa pants a few minutes later, resting her forehead against Jennie's. "I've been dying to do that all day."
Jennie's trying to get it together — trying to muster a response, to tell Lisa she's been dying too — when Lisa drops her wrists and puts some space between them. And just like that Jennie's traveling back to last night again, when Lisa walked away; when Jennie let her go.
(She knows it's a bad idea.)
(She can't let that happen again.)
Lisa's still standing in front of her but Jennie takes her hand, just like she wanted to last night. Lisa giggles as Jennie drags her the short distance to her door, leaning into her side while she fumbles with the key.
Once they're inside, there's another kind of shift between them. It's like the stolen kisses they've been sharing have more promise here, now that they're behind closed doors without the threat of interruption.
They don't bother to turn the lights on. Lisa glances around, taking in the space as her eyes adjust to the darkness.
"My floor plan is the same," she says, taking Jennie's hands and walking backward, slowly leading her toward the couch in the middle of the room. "I think your ceilings are higher though."
"Oh?" is the best that Jennie can manage because her mind is miles away from architecture right now. But then the backs of Lisa's calves hit the edge of the sofa and she lets out a soft yelp, like she wasn't expecting to reach it just yet.
Lisa sits down and pulls Jennie forward by her hands, eyebrows rising in invitation. Jennie only hesitates for an instant — heart thundering inside her chest as she stands in front of her — before she kneels on the couch, straddling Lisa's thighs and settling lightly in her lap.
Jennie rests her hands on either side of Lisa's neck and watches as she closes her eyes and takes a slow, deep breath. When Lisa opens her eyes again, the look she fixes Jennie with makes her pulse speed up.
"C'mere," Lisa says. She grips Jennie's waist roughly and pulls her closer until Jennie's hips are bracketing her stomach.
Jennie gasps, swaying forward, nails digging into Lisa's neck. "Shit."
After taking a ragged gulp of air, she dips her head and captures Lisa's lips. It's a different experience, kissing her like this; feeling Lisa anchored beneath her, rocking in Lisa's lap, leaning back just enough so that Lisa has to press forward to chase after her mouth.
Despite Jennie technically having the upper hand, there's no question about who's in charge here — and it's not her. Lisa's the one setting the tempo and Jennie's all too happy to follow along. She'd been a little embarrassed after their first practice kiss in her trailer, when she realized she would let Lisa do anything to her at that moment. But now that she's had time to sit with that revelation, the prospect of ceding control — of giving herself up to Lisa — is kind of thrilling.
But when Lisa peels Jennie's shirt off her body and ducks her head to kiss the tops of her breasts, squeezing her ass and tugging her closer, Jennie has to speak up.
"Lisa... Can we... mmmf... I, um... I have a bed, you know."
Before Lisa looks up she runs her tongue over Jennie's nipple, through the thin fabric of her bra, and Jennie has half a mind to tell her to just forget it, right here is fine, don't stop, never stop.
"Oh yeah?" she asks when she finally meets her gaze, a playful smirk on her face. "You do?"
"Uh-huh." Jennie swallows, trying to remember how talking works. "A mattress, headboard, pillows, sheets — got the whole shebang."
"Hmm, intriguing," Lisa says. She tucks a strand of Jennie's hair behind her ear and tilts her head, like she's considering the prospect. "I guess I might be up for checking that out."
Jennie can't help but roll her eyes. "You guess? I mean, if you're not sure..."
She lets go of Lisa and shifts her weight to the side, as if she's going to climb off of her. It's an empty threat if there ever was one, as evidenced by her hard nipples, but it does the trick. Lisa wraps her arms around her and stands so abruptly that Jennie nearly shrieks.
"Oh, I'm sure."
Jennie knows Lisa works out — she's a spokesmodel for one of the big athletic brands, and even if she wasn't it's hard to miss how toned she is — but it's still surprising how easily she carries her into the bedroom. That feat, combined with the smoldering look she gives Jennie when she places her on the mattress, nearly does her in.
Jennie reclines against the pillows and watches as Lisa shucks her own shirt and pants — going slowly, just for show. Jennie takes the opportunity to shove her jeans off, too, and when Lisa crawls over her in nothing but a bra and skimpy underwear, she looks like she's going to devour her whole.
"Good call on the location change," she says, using her knee to nudge Jennie's legs apart. "This is way better."
She hovers over her for a couple of seconds, eyes drifting down Jennie's body. When she licks her lips Jennie feels like she might explode.
"Jennie..." She trails off, throat working as she swallows. "You're, like, heartbreakingly beautiful."
And Jennie didn't know what she was expecting Lisa to say, but it certainly wasn't that. She's trying to think of a way to acknowledge the compliment when Lisa lowers herself onto her, settling right between Jennie's thighs, and any hope of responding goes out the window.
Instead, she threads her fingers through Lisa's hair and pulls her in for a heated kiss. Lisa moans into Jennie's mouth and it's ridiculous — they're not even fully naked yet — but Jennie's bordering on delirious. She hitches her knee over Lisa's hip, digging her heel into the back of her thigh, urging her closer.
Lisa gasps against her lips and rolls her hips forward, tentatively at first, then setting up a steady pace. Her lower stomach is hitting Jennie right where she needs her, and when Lisa smothers a swear against the column of her throat Jennie knows Lisa can feel just how wet she is.
It's both too much and not enough, and she's scrambling to find a way to let Lisa know, to help move things along. But Lisa seems content to continue doling out this slow torture, shimmying down Jennie's body so she can push the cup of her bra down and close her lips around her nipple.
Jennie whimpers at the light suction, arching into her mouth.
"Hang on... Let me, just—" She reaches behind herself to unclasp the bra and then pushes Lisa off of her just enough to toss it to the side.
Lisa props herself up on an elbow, squeezing one of Jennie's breasts in her hand.
"You're just full of good ideas tonight, Jen," she says in a light tone, like Jennie had suggested something innocent, like packing an umbrella in case it rains. Then she brushes her thumb over Jennie's nipple and watches it react. "Mm, you like that?"
"Shit," Jennie breathes. She closes her eyes as Lisa does it once more. "Yeah, that's— mmhm."
Lisa chuckles softly and Jennie can feel her breath on her skin. "Don't know why, but I kinda had a feeling," she says right before taking Jennie's breast into her mouth again.
The implication that Lisa had thought about this — had contemplated what Jennie might like in bed — is almost as hot as what she's currently doing with her tongue. She licks across Jennie's pebbled nipple before closing her lips around it and sucking, softly at first, then harder. When Jennie feels the blunt edges of Lisa's teeth scrape against her sensitive flesh a shudder runs through her.
She squirms beneath Lisa, restless hands roaming across her back. When she finds the clasp of her bra she unhooks it and pushes it up and out of the way as much as she can. Lisa makes room for Jennie to wedge her hands between their bodies and palm her breasts. Jennie marvels at how hard her nipples are already, how Lisa hisses when she pinches one between two fingers.
Lisa rests her forehead on Jennie's sternum and exhales hotly while Jennie continues to caress her breasts, finding as much pleasure in touching Lisa as being touched herself.
Part of Jennie still can't believe this is really happening. Since the moment they met, so much about Lisa has felt surreal. Even once they became friends — once the Lisa Manoban public persona faded away — she seemed too shiny, too effervescent, too good to be true.
Too good for someone dark and grumpy and jaded.
Someone like Jennie.
But now here she is, in Jennie's bed, letting Jennie touch her as needy sounds rise in her throat.
The muffled cries Lisa's making against Jennie's skin, are nearly driving her out of her mind. She needs to touch more of her. One of her hands leaves Lisa's breasts, fingernails scratching along her toned stomach before bumping against her hipbone. When Jennie traces the edge of lacy underwear, Lisa's hand suddenly closes around her wrist, holding her in place.
Jennie's eyes fly open as she feels Lisa sit up. She studies her face, searching for signs that she misread things, that she was moving too fast. But all she finds written across Lisa's features is breathless bemusement.
"You're very distracting," Lisa says, sitting on the tops of Jennie's thighs. "Has anyone ever told you that?"
Jennie blinks and looks to the side, playing coy. "Maybe," she says. "Once or twice."
Lisa shakes her head, like she's at a loss for what to do with her. She releases Jennie's wrist so she can slip her bra completely off and, oh, Jennie wasn't ready for that. Her breasts are pert and her nipples are rosy and taut. Jennie can just make out the faint shadow of a tan line, which shouldn't be as tantalizing as it is.
Her hand on Lisa's hip is on the move again, gripping her waist before drifting down her lower back. When Jennie slips her fingers beneath Lisa's underwear and squeezes her ass, Lisa gasps, eyelids fluttering as her hips jutter forward. Jennie presses her legs together but instantly regrets it because it only calls attention to how painfully wet she is.
Lisa takes hold of Jennie's wrist again and circles her hips, grinding against Jennie with a tormenting hint of pressure just north of where she needs her. Jennie throws Lisa a pleading look and she just smirks, as if she knew exactly what she was doing.
"Like I said," Lisa says, gaze roaming Jennie's chest before meeting her eyes. "Distracting." She pulls Jennie's hand out of her underwear and takes Jennie's other wrist with her free hand. "The thing is, I kinda have plans..."
Lisa trails off as she shifts forward, leaning over Jennie's body and bringing her arms with her. When she presses Jennie's hands into the pillow above her head, Jennie swears her heart stops beating.
"There." Lisa makes a satisfied sound as she pins both of Jennie's wrists down with one hand. "Much better."
Lisa ruts into Jennie one more time before moving off of her, resting on her side. Keeping one hand tight on Jennie's wrists, Lisa uses the other to push her own underwear off. Then she brings her hand back to Jennie, trailing it down her body, between her breasts, past her belly button, until she reaches the top of Jennie's underwear.
Jennie's hips rise of their own accord and Lisa chuckles quietly.
"I had a feeling about that too," she murmurs, running her fingers lightly across Jennie's lower stomach.
Jennie tries and fails to suppress a whimper. "About what?"
"That you'd be eager." Lisa finally moves her hand down, fingers slipping over hot, sticky lace. Jennie moans and arches up against her palm, and Lisa snickers. "Yeah, like that."
Jennie tries to glare, but Lisa presses her hand more firmly against her, and Jennie clamps her eyes shut.
"Fuck you."
"Mmm, that's next," Lisa says, and Jennie doesn't need to open her eyes to know she's smirking. "You first."
When Lisa finally peels Jennie's underwear down her legs, it hits Jennie like an out-of-body experience. Soon she comes back to herself like a slingshot, suddenly hyper-aware of every inch of her skin; of the fact that she's now completely naked and exposed.
There's barely any space between them but, somehow, Lisa inches closer, pressing the length of her body along Jennie's side. She brushes her lips over Jennie's shoulder as her fingers meander up the inside of Jennie's leg, and even though Jennie's burning up, it gives her goosebumps.
When Lisa reaches the tacky skin at the top of her thighs and keeps going, gliding ever higher, Jennie holds her breath.
Soon Lisa's fingers part her, dragging a slow, slick path from her entrance to her clit. She pauses there and exhales sharply against Jennie's shoulder. "Fuck, Jen, you're so wet."
The noise Jennie makes in reply is more desperate than she cares for. She wants to tell Lisa that she's been wet for her all day, that she thinks Lisa's trying to kill her, that she might just succeed. But none of those thoughts find their way to Jennie's mouth and all she can do is try not to squirm too much as Lisa touches her.
If Jennie had thought Lisa might be done toying with her, now that her underwear is off, she'd be wrong.
Lisa slides the tips of two fingers into her — just a solitary, taunting inch — before pulling out and returning to her clit, which she circles a few times with a too-light touch. She repeats the motion again, refusing to offer any more relief.
The third time Lisa's fingers reach her center Jennie's ready for her; she lifts her hips up so that Lisa slips in up to her second knuckle, and it's good — it's so fucking good — but it's still not nearly enough.
"Lisa, Jesus," Jennie pants, wrists straining against Lisa's hand. "Please."
Ever since she broke into the business Jennie has maintained that manners will get you everywhere, and tonight, she's proven right once again. Because that little word is all it takes for Lisa to push two fingers fully inside her.
She pulls out almost all of the way, and Jennie's about to protest when Lisa enters her again with three fingers this time. Jennie clenches around her, letting out a guttural moan at the blissful tension of Lisa stretching her.
"Oh my god." Lisa bites into Jennie's shoulder. "You're so tight. God, you feel so good."
She sets up a steady rhythm, pumping in and out of Jennie, speeding up a bit when her cries start to build.
And Jennie's never been one to be overly vocal in bed, but here, she finds herself babbling. Maybe it's because she can't touch Lisa, with her hands secured above her. She can't cling to Lisa's neck, can't grip her wrist, can't feel the muscles of her forearm as she works her fingers inside her.
Instead, she has to use her words.
She swears. She swears a lot — "fuck" and "Christ" and "ohmygod holy shit." She tells Lisa that she feels so good, lets her know when she strokes her just right. She says "please," over and over, because that worked once and maybe it will again.
And soon, when she's teetering on the edge, the only word that can make it past her lips is "Lisa." She repeats it like a prayer, like it's something sacred, as Lisa curls her fingers inside her and sucks at the base of her neck.
When Lisa starts rubbing her thumb over Jennie's clit, firm and purposeful, Jennie chokes out a medley of her greatest hits.
"Fuck, Lisa, right there, yes," she pants, feet slipping across the sheets. "Oh my god, don't stop, please, fu—"
Jennie goes silent then, words caught in her throat as she shatters around Lisa's fingers. Her back arches off the bed but Lisa's there to ground her, holding Jennie's wrists down harder, and that just makes it better.
Jennie gasps, pulling air into her aching lungs as the waves of her orgasm crash over her. When she moans — a throaty, keening sound she's never made before — it fills the breadth of the room. As she finally quiets, settling back on the mattress, she distantly wonders if the neighbors might've heard.
But that concern is quickly forgotten when there's a flurry of movement beside her. Lisa gently pulls out of Jennie, releases her wrists, and rolls on top of her. She holds herself up on her elbows and smiles down at her.
"That was awesome," she says, brushing some of Jennie's hair out of her face. "God, Jennie, like..."
She ducks her head to capture Jennie's lips, kissing her properly for the first time since she pinned her down. Jennie feels like she's moving underwater — like her thoughts are in slow motion — but eventually, she kisses Lisa back and wraps her arms around her, like she'd wanted to minutes before.
When Jennie scrapes her teeth along Lisa's bottom lip, Lisa groans and tilts her head to kiss her more deeply. She's moving again, and Jennie isn't sure what's happening until she feels Lisa's knee between both of hers, and then, the hot, wet slide of her along Jennie's thigh.
"Fuck," Jennie gasps, her body going from 0 to 100 in the span of a second.
Lisa buries her face in the crook of Jennie's neck and moans softly as she grinds down. Jennie's hands go to her hips, pulling her closer and guiding her movements. Soon Lisa's wetness is coating Jennie's thigh, and Jennie digs her nails into her waist as she bites back a moan.
When Lisa's hips speed up, when she starts making these little high-pitched cries beside Jennie's ear, Jennie finally comes back to her senses.
"Wait wait, no, hold on," Jennie says, pushing on Lisa's shoulders.
It takes Lisa a minute but eventually, she catches on, lifting herself up so she can meet Jennie's eyes. She has the most adorably confounded look on her face, and if Jennie wasn't so turned on again she might have laughed.
"Jennie, wha—" she starts, but before she can finish Jennie shoves at her again, rolling her onto her back.
"Much better," Jennie murmurs, echoing Lisa's words from earlier.
And Jennie wants to take her time — wants to lavish Lisa's body with her hands and mouth — but Lisa's looking at her with dark, hooded eyes, and she can't imagine making her wait any longer.
When Jennie crawls backward on the mattress Lisa catches on, parting her legs so Jennie can lie between them. Once she's on her stomach Jennie lifts one of Lisa's knees over her shoulder, so she can get closer, and Lisa lets out a shaky breath.
Jennie gets lost for a moment as she takes in the scene in front of her, mesmerized by the sight of Lisa wet and swollen and spread open; by the knowledge that she did this to her. But then Lisa winds her fingers through her hair, getting her attention.
"Jennie."
Her voice is needy and pleading, and Jennie will never forget it.
She lifts her chin and licks through Lisa, parting her with her tongue, and she'll never forget the sound Lisa makes at that either.
Lisa must have been close before, based on the sounds she was making as she rode Jennie's thigh, and it doesn't take Jennie long to bring her back to the edge.
"Jennie, shit." Lisa whimpers and fists her hand in Jennie's hair, holding her in place. "Theretherethere."
Jennie moves her tongue steadily against Lisa's clit, staying just where she needs her. She holds Lisa down with one arm, pressing it across her stomach, while she maneuvers the other between their bodies.
She doesn't think Lisa has the wherewithal to realize what she's doing, because when Jennie pushes two fingers inside of her she yanks on Jennie's hair, moaning in surprise.
Jennie groans against her when Lisa's knuckles tighten their grip on her even further. She sucks on Lisa's clit as she continues to lick her, fingers pistoning easily inside her.
"Jen, I'm gonna— unh. Jennie, Jen—"
Lisa comes so hard Jennie briefly worries she might have hurt her. Her body stiffens, lifting up off the bed and straining against Jennie's arm and mouth. Somehow Jennie stays put, working her through it with her fingers and tongue as Lisa shudders and sobs up toward the ceiling.
When Lisa gently pushes her away Jennie can't make it very far. She wipes her mouth on Lisa's hip before resting her cheek on her thigh.
She has no idea how much time has passed when she hears a giggle sound from somewhere above her.
"You okay down there?" Lisa asks, carding her fingers through Jennie's hair.
"Yep, I'm good," Jennie says, voice slow and drowsy. "Just, ya know, chilling."
Lisa laughs and tugs on her shoulders. "Come here, sleepy."
With no small amount of effort, Jennie drags herself up the bed, slotting herself into Lisa's side and laying her head on her shoulder. Lisa hums happily as she wraps her arms around Jennie.
"That was nice," Jennie says quietly. It's kind of a bland statement, but she hopes Lisa knows how she means it. She drapes her arm across Lisa's waist as she snuggles in closer, trying to ignore her racing pulse.
Lisa presses her lips to the crown of Jennie's head, and Jennie relaxes a little bit.
"Totes. Like, really nice," Lisa replies. "So... you're not freaking out then?"
Jennie can't help but laugh at that. "Definitely not. Unless you snuck a camera in here that I don't know about."
"I didn't. But there's always next time."
"Oh my god!" Jennie laughs, twisting to hide her reddening face against Lisa's neck. "You're such a psycho."
"Thank you."
Jennie hitches her knee over Lisa's thigh, wanting to feel closer to her. It's crazy, since they literally just had sex, but part of her still can't process the fact that she's naked in bed with Lisa Manoban.
She smiles to herself, tracing a path up and down Lisa's side. "I can't believe we just did that."
"No? I can." Lisa takes Jennie's hand and laces their fingers together. "Been thinking about it since that day in the recording studio." She pulls Jennie's hand up, pressing her fingertips to her lips as she speaks. "I watched you working on the mixing board and saw how talented you were with your fingers."
She sucks Jennie's two fingers into her mouth, moaning softly at the taste of herself on her tongue, and Jennie nearly chokes.
"Fuck," she mutters when Lisa releases her with a soft pop. She clears her throat, trying to recover. "I wish I'd known. We could've been doing this for weeks."
"Maybe if you'd texted me over the break you would've found out."
Her voice is light and teasing, but it doesn't stop Jennie from feeling guilty.
"I wanted to..."
Jennie curls her fingers around the back of Lisa's neck and gently scratches up into her hair. She lets her half-finished sentence hang between them, remembering that all the reasons she wanted to keep her distance still exist.
"It's okay," Lisa says, and Jennie's relieved she isn't pushing her on this. "At least we know now, right?"
"Yeah." Jennie leans back so she can grin at her. "Totes."
Lisa gasps, looking thoroughly offended. "You're such a brat!"
She tickles Jennie's ribs, making her shriek and jerk away, before her strong hands roll Jennie onto her. Jennie steadies herself, gripping Lisa's shoulders as she straddles her hips. She beams down at her as she laughs.
Her eyes fall to Lisa's lips, red and swollen, and her laughter fades away. She leans down and kisses her, rocking forward at the feel of their bodies pressed together like this. Lisa pushes her tongue into Jennie's mouth, setting off a chain reaction that ends with Jennie's hips bearing down on Lisa's stomach, making it known just how wet she still is.
And it's truly absurd — because it's late and they have an early call time tomorrow and Jennie just got the feeling back in her legs — but she's very much ready to go again. Lisa moans against her lips, squeezing Jennie's ass with both hands, and Jennie knows she's on the same page.
The distant buzzing of Jennie's phone sounds from the floor, likely a text notification vibrating in the back pocket of her jeans. She doesn't make a move to get it — even if it was a text from George Michael, back from the dead, it wouldn't be worth moving away from Lisa, who's reached around her and is trailing her hand up the inside of her thigh.
But the notification jogs her memory, bringing her back to how the day started with five alarming texts from Mino and a million notifications on social media.
It's enough for Jennie to break away from Lisa's lips, panting a little against her cheek.
"Oh nooo," she groans.
"What? You wanna be on bottom?"
"No, I— hey!" Jennie scoffs as Lisa snickers. "No. I just realized that all those fan accounts are gonna be so smug that their so-called 'shipping' was right."
Lisa's fingers reach their destination, slipping through Jennie's folds from behind. Jennie grunts and rocks back against them.
"Meh," Lisa says casually, like she isn't slowly pushing one finger inside her. "Not if they don't find out."
*
The next morning, after Lisa has collected her scattered clothing and gone upstairs to shower, Jennie realizes four things.
The first is that Lisa, apparently, isn't straight after all.
The second is that she really, really, really wants to do that again.
The third is that, if she's being honest with herself, she can no longer categorize her feelings for Lisa as a mere crush.
And the fourth is that she isn't finding the third item nearly as alarming as she should.
Shit.
.