#or as the bestie orchidsshine said: i desire and i crave a happy ending (mood)

[weemssapphic]

I desire. And I crave.

part two

Jane Murdstone x fem!reader

series page

summary: Jane fights to recover from her illness. Our dear reader takes care of her, in more ways than one.

words: ~6k, ao3 link

chapter-specific warnings: mentions of illness, blood, mentions of death/near-death experience, soft!Jane but also mistress!Jane if you feel me lol, nsfw (smut) - thigh riding, spanking, fingering, cunnilingus, face-sitting

Jane is drifting in and out of consciousness. She’s dimly aware of a looming presence at her bedside, one that feels vaguely familiar and, for some reason, oddly comforting. She tries to force herself to sit up but her body feels like lead and she can barely open her eyes - when she does, everything is blurred, so she allows her eyelids to fall shut again. She feels so cold - except for her hand. That is strangely warm. Then there’s a sudden warmth on her cheek and she feels a distant pull near her jaw.

She hears a voice and tries hard, so hard, to concentrate on the words that all slur together, indistinguishable from one another. The voice is soft, kind - it somehow brings her great solace, even as her throat constricts and her lungs burn. She registers somewhere deep within her mind that the only voice that has been able to bring her such peace before is yours, and she attempts, again, to fight the ringing in her ears.

“I love you, Jane. Please don’t leave me.” She isn’t sure if she’s actually heard the words or if she’s dreamt them, her mind conjuring up beautiful fantasies for her final moments on earth. A shadow crosses her vision and then there’s a pressure on her forehead.

Jane fights to blink her eyes open again and, this time, succeeds as her eyelids begin to feel lighter and she finds she can focus on your face, hovering mere inches above hers.

She forces herself to speak, her voice weak and hoarse. “W-what did you say?” You freeze above her, eyes wide with panic.

“I’m sorry, milady!” You look frightened and you don’t repeat yourself, and Jane feels as if she’ll go insane if she doesn’t hear those words again, words she is still so sure she’s hallucinated.

“S-say-” she clears her throat - it still hurts, but it no longer feels like she is fighting for air - something within her has gotten lighter. “Say it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut but Jane’s fingers twitch underneath your hand and you open them again, now staring deeply into the half-lidded oceans of blue gazing blearily up at you. “I love you,” you say, your voice shaking. Even as she clings onto the last threads of life, her gaze is piercing and intense - all-consuming. “Jane,” you add quickly.

“I love you.” Could it be? It takes her a few moments to process the words and the weight that they hold. She had never entertained the idea, never dared allow herself to hope that you could return her feelings. She hasn’t heard those three words in a very, very long time, and to hear them from you? 

Jane no longer feels as though she is drowning, tied to a rock and sinking, sinking to the bottom of a deep lake. Everything feels lighter - it’s then that it hits her: her love for you is requited - the disease will fade. Death is not coming to claim her, not quite yet. The thought both thrills and terrifies her - she hadn’t planned for this.

“Foolish girl.” It comes out a strangled whisper - it’s all Jane can muster as she registers the sudden hammering of her heart and the blood rushing to her face. A billion thoughts race through her mind at once but she is too exhausted to linger on any one thought in particular.

Jane looks up at you, observing - the way your cheeks turn pink under her stare, the way you seem to be holding your breath. There’s a certain look in your eyes, a strange look, but one she’s seen before. She could never quite place it and always took it for an unexpressed hatred or contempt of her own abrasiveness. But in this moment, she recognizes it for what it is - hunger. Desire. 

She extracts her hand from your own. Her arm feels heavy but she lifts it higher, higher until she can wrap her hand around the top of your throat, fingertips pressing into your jaw. 

~~~

Jane’s grip is weak but intentional and you find yourself held captive, unable (and, frankly, unwilling) to fight it. You can feel your pulse in your extremities as she drags you forward by the jaw, her sapphire eyes fixated on your lips as her tongue darts out to wet her own. Her intent is quite clear to you as she pulls and pulls until your lips hover over hers, your shaky breaths mingling. 

She seems to want to lift her head, to close the gap, but the effort is too much and she lets out a frustrated growl, so you do it - you crash your lips into hers.

They are cold and slightly cracked, yet still you find yourself needing more. You swipe your tongue over her lower lip, gently insisting she part her lips for you. She does and you lick into her mouth, a metallic taste hitting your tongue - blood, from her earlier coughing. You try to pull away, less out of disgust - you really don’t mind at all, you find - but more out of concern for Jane. She doesn’t let you, however, her fingers holding you firmly in place, her tongue sliding desperately against yours. You whimper into her mouth and she lets out a soft moan in return, muffled against your lips. It’s a heavenly sound, and you want to hear more. You need to hear more. 

Your hands fist at her nightgown and Jane loosens her grip on your jaw to slide her hand behind your ear, fingers curling loosely in your hair. You begin to suck at Jane’s lower lip, hoping she’ll find it pleasurable, and you’re thrilled when she whimpers softly at the sensation.

There’s a weak tug at your hair and you pull back, looking down at Jane who is breathing rather heavily, as if fighting for air. It may take her a while to recover from the disease, you realize - it had been rather advanced.

A part of you is still reeling from the realization that you are the one Jane desires - that you are the one Jane loves. You wish she had told you sooner - you are all too aware of the fact that Jane had been ready to succumb to illness, that she would have died believing her feelings for you were entirely unrequited. But then if she had told you sooner, she wouldn’t be the proud, stubborn woman you’ve found yourself falling in love with.

“Milady…”

“Please- can you please call me Jane when we’re alone?” Her voice is hoarse and pleading, and the request makes your heart flutter in your chest.

“Yes, of course. Jane,” you breathe out.

You cannot help yourself - you beam down at her. Her own lips curl up ever so slightly at the corners. The smile does not hold its usual patronizing contempt - it is timid, certainly, but decidedly warm, and you’re sure Jane has not smiled at anyone else like that in the time you’ve known her.

“May I take care of you?” There’s a touch more confidence in your voice as you feel out the new boundaries of your relationship with the other woman. She blinks, remaining silent for a moment. The moment stretches on and on, so long that you’re bracing yourself for rejection, when Jane gives the smallest of nods, her cheeks regaining a touch of color.

~~~

You scurry down to the kitchens as fast as your feet will take you. The other servants look at you curiously but don’t dare say a word. You ask Louise to cook a beef tea for Miss Murdstone - Jane - and have Emily bring it up as soon as it’s finished. In no time at all, you’re letting yourself back into Jane’s chambers, a clean rag in hand which you wet in the basin in the corner of the room and bring to Jane’s bedside.

You use the damp cloth to wipe the blood and sweat off of Jane’s skin - you are gentle and meticulous, and you can feel Jane’s icy blue eyes tracking your every move with curiosity. When you are finished cleaning her up, you turn your attention to the petals covering the bed and the floor, sweeping them up and scrubbing at the dried blood on the floor.

It’s then that you notice that the petals perfectly match those of the phlox you’d gifted Jane - your heart swells, but you don’t comment on it, not wanting to embarrass Jane further.

“Will you allow me to plait your hair?”

“Yes.”

Fetching Jane’s brush, you return to her bedside. “Will you sit up for me?” You place your hands on her shoulders, helping her to a half-seated position so you can reach her hair better. You work the brush through the knots in her raven tresses, allowing your fingertips to linger in the softness of the freshly brushed hair. Before you can get too distracted, you set to work, carefully parting the strands and creating a loose plait, which you gently drape over her shoulder.

A knock at the door startles you - it must be Emily with the beef tea. It is, and you carry it over to Jane, careful not to spill a drop from the bowl, which is filled to the brim.

You bring a spoon full of the broth to Jane’s lips and she parts them slightly, accepting the nourishment without question. You are silent as you feed her, spoonful after spoonful, until the bowl is empty.

You spend the afternoon at Jane’s bedside, gently stroking her arm as she drifts in and out of consciousness. 

~~~ 

The next days pass in much the same way as Jane finally allows you to care for her. She spends most of the following day sleeping - it appears she sorely needs the rest to regenerate. She still refuses to be seen by a doctor, though she allows you to order Emily to bring up teas and broths, and allows you to feed them to her (“I can do it myself,” she says grumpily, but she doesn’t, allowing you to continue bringing the spoon to her lips and accepting the broth without hesitance). 

The first morning that she allows you to care for her, you are adamant about washing her hair. She concedes and you try to make the process as quick for her as possible, as she is still regaining strength. 

In the mornings that follow, you brush and plait her hair, allowing your fingers to linger on each lock, sometimes scratching your nails soothingly along her scalp - your stomach does a backflip when she moans softly at the sensation, and you have to squeeze your legs together to contain the heat that begins to course through your veins at the sensuality of the sound.

As you set about tidying her chambers afterwards, your eyes fall to the drawer of Jane’s nightstand, which is open just a crack. You are about to close it when a flash of white inside catches your eye - opening the drawer, you find petal upon petal; some brilliant white, some flecked with blood. You turn your head to Jane, who stares pointedly towards the window.

“Jane?” You aren’t sure whether the realization that Jane has hidden the illness from everyone by tucking the petals away should make you laugh or cry. It is somehow so very Jane that you almost find it humorous, though the thought of her carrying such a heavy burden all by herself makes your heart clench.

The woman refuses to look at you, though she wrings her hands in her lap and a faint blush colors her cheeks.

“I’ll just clean these up,” you say nonchalantly - it is clear that Jane is uncomfortable. Before you begin collecting the petals to throw away, however, you reach for Jane’s hand, gently stopping her from twisting her fingers as you stroke her knuckles. “I hope you never feel you have to carry such a burden on your own again,” you murmur.

Jane’s gaze falls to your intertwined hands in her lap as she answers. “Thank you.” The words seemingly claw their way out of her throat - they sound hoarse and are wavering with uncertainty, but you cherish them all the same.

~~~

“Will you read to me, little dove?” she asks one afternoon as she sits in bed after you’ve helped her change into a fresh nightgown, and you grin at her, reaching for the book of poems on her nightstand which you’ve been reading from in the past afternoons. 

You settle on the chair next to her bed that you have been inhabiting and open the tome, though before you can begin to read, Jane’s hand on your arm makes you pause.

You meet her gaze and she looks almost shy, hesitating before she speaks. When she does, her voice is low, barely audible.

“Will you sit with me?” Her request has you puzzled - you are sitting with her - until she shifts over slightly and you realize she wants you to sit on the bed with her. You feel your cheeks warm and your pulse quicken, and Jane senses your hesitation and begins to backtrack.

“It was a foolish idea, forget it,” she all but growls, glaring sullenly into her lap.

You roll your eyes and sigh dramatically, rising from your chair and walking around to the other side of the bed. Jane tracks your movements carefully.

“If it was a foolish idea then I’m a foolish girl,” you remark, waving your hands at Jane as if to say “move over” and climbing into bed next to her. You ignore her furrowed brow, likely a response to you commanding her around, and flip through the book of poetry until you find something you think Jane will like, then begin to read.

“What shall I send my sweet today, When all the woods attune in love? And I would show the lark and dove, That I can love as well as they.”

You can feel Jane’s eyes upon you, her gaze unwavering and intense, and your cheeks turn pink but you continue.

“I’ll send a locket full of hair-- But no, for it might chance to lie Too near her heart, and I should die Of love’s sweet envy to be there.” As you read to her, Jane gravitates closer and closer. 

“A violet is sweet to give-- Ah stay! She’d touch it with her lips, And after such complete eclipse, How could my soul consent to live?”

At first your thighs touch, then your arms, then she is all but clinging to you. You pretend not to notice.

“I’ll send a kiss for that would be The quickest sent, the lightest borne, And well I know tomorrow morn She’ll send it back again to me.”

Jane reaches up and plays with the soft ringlets of your hair that rest on your shoulders, causing your breathing to stutter. 

“Go, happy winds; ah, do not stay, Enamoured of my ladies cheek, But hasten home and I’ll bespeak Your services another day!”

Jane buries her hand in your hair, her nails gently scratching your scalp. You let out a contented sigh, allowing your eyes to flutter shut as you turn the page to the next poem. Jane, however, appears to have other plans, and she plucks the book from your hands.

You open your eyes and gaze curiously at her as she drops the book rather unceremoniously on the nightstand, turning her attention back to you. Her sapphires shine with an uncharacteristic warmth as her fingers reach out for your face, stroking your cheek with unexpected gentleness. 

“Jane?” It comes out a strangled whisper. The longer you gaze into her eyes, the greater the desire within you becomes, until the flames of your lust are roaring, licking at your insides, threatening to burn you down.

Jane is the first to move, closing the gap between the two of you as her lips crash desperately into your own. They are warm and soft now, and you melt into her. She wraps an arm around your waist, splaying her hand across your lower back and forcefully pushing until you are almost on top of her. Her other hand curls itself into your hair, long fingers brushing against your scalp as she finds purchase in the soft tresses before tightening her grip and tugging lightly, eliciting a gasp from your lips. The slight pain of the hair pulling feels delicious in contrast to the gentleness of Jane’s tongue as she explores your mouth, and you can’t help but push yourself flush against the older woman.

You suddenly feel starved, as though you’ve never been touched in your life and now you can’t get enough - and it’s true, a kind hand is rare in your line of work, and Jane has never made a move to hug you or anything of the sort. But right now, it is another kind of touch you seek, a touch you have only experienced once before, in your clumsy youth, that you had never dared dream you would receive from your mistress. Jane.

The hunger you feel for the woman is overwhelming and you feel you may perish if you aren’t able to touch her, if she doesn’t touch you in return. There is a throbbing between your legs and an inferno spreading outwards from your core and your lips tingle where they meet Jane’s, your lower back burns where her hand rests.

Jane’s tongue brushes against your own and you cannot help the wanton groan that escapes your throat. The noise appears to send Jane over the edge, all sense of propriety long forgotten - she sinks down and pulls you fully on top of her, both hands coming to the skirt of your dress and pulling it up over your hips.

Your breathing becomes labored as you feel her hands on the swell of your ass, as her fingers drift tantalizingly close to your core. You fist at her nightgown, tugging it upward to signal that you want it gone. Jane tuts at your impatience, but removes her hands from your body long enough to undo the buttons, the garment falling away from her front.

Your breath hitches audibly in your chest, your pupils dilating as you are met with the sight of her bare breasts, nipples hardened against the chill in the air. Being that you’ve helped her dress nearly every morning for the better part of two years, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before. But this time, the context is wildly different, and a heady sort of dizziness overtakes you as you allow your eyes, for the first time, to roam freely over the soft, small mounds and the smooth, pale flesh.

Jane squirms underneath you and you meet her gaze to see her looking, for the first time, a little unsure of herself.

“You are beautiful,” you murmur, certain she can hear the awe in your voice for she blushes furiously and shakes her head.

“Silly girl,” she whispers back, before chasing your lips with her own.

You shift above her until her leg is slotted between yours and then you push down, smearing your wetness (and you are drenched) along her thigh as you rock back and forth. Jane gasps into your mouth, causing you to smile and spurring you on.

“Can you feel how much I desire you?” you ask boldly, your lips brushing against hers. You are almost nervous you’ve gone too far when Jane pauses for a moment, her breath coming out in short puffs against your lips. Then her hands grip desperately at your hips and she flexes her thigh against your center, causing you to cry out at the newly-found friction against your swollen bundle of nerves.

You grind down on Jane’s thigh, leaving a trail of slick along the smooth, milky expanse of skin. Jane’s hands push you firmly down, and you begin to gyrate your hips, finding a steady rhythm which builds the heat in your core. Jane’s kisses are hard and demanding, and the way she whimpers into your mouth at each roll of your hips sends you careening towards the edge of pleasure.

The coil behind your navel tightens. “Jane, I think- ah- I think I’m-” You are cut off by the older woman’s lips attaching themselves to your neck, quickly finding your pulse point and sucking, hard, before biting down. 

You moan and then Jane licks at your pulse point and the coil snaps. Pure ecstasy explodes within you, your release made even sweeter by the fact that you feel Jane’s arms wrap around your torso and pull you close. You ride out the wave of pleasure on Jane’s thigh, milking her leg with your juices, dimly aware of how Jane peppers every inch of your face with sloppy kisses as you come down from your high. You collapse on top of her, the aftershocks of your orgasm still running through you. 

You peer up at Jane through your lashes. She is looking down at you, barely a sliver of sapphire visible in her eyes as her pupils dilate. Her cheeks are flushed and you can feel her chest heave underneath you. 

Finding some strength within you, you push yourself up so that you are straddling her stomach. Your sticky center rests against her bare skin and she parts her lips, letting out a ragged breath. You push the nightgown off her shoulders and down her arms - she doesn’t protest, simply watches you curiously.

You shift down her body, your fingers finding the waistband of her drawers and dragging them down her long legs. You watch her the entire time - her face is unreadable, though you can tell from the arousal that coats her thighs that she is enjoying this immensely. You begin to unbutton the collar of your own dress, but Jane sits up and her hands swat your own away and continue the process for you. 

She seems to have regained control of the situation as she forces the dress over your head, then all but rips your chemise off your body.

“Impatient, are we?” you chuckle, then you freeze as Jane’s eyes grow dark and she glowers at you. Definitely too far. You gulp as Jane curls her hand in your hair, taking it by the fistful and pulling harshly, causing you to gasp in pain.

“Don’t think I will tolerate brattiness just because it’s you,” Jane says, her voice almost sickeningly sweet.

“Are you going to punish me?” you whisper, unable to keep a hint of excitement out of your voice.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Jane smiles as you whimper and she places her hands on your waist, bending you to her will. “Over my lap, girl.”

You oblige, settling over Jane’s legs then sticking your ass into the air, heart pounding as you realize what is to come. Jane pulls your drawers down your legs, exposing your soft flesh, then brings a cool hand to one of your butt cheeks, caressing it almost lovingly, giving it a soft, gentle squeeze.

The hand retracts and then, quite suddenly, comes down on your cheek with full force. You yelp at the sting. She caresses the area once more, her soft, barely-there touch a delicious contrast to the painful warmth that remains after the slap. Then she retracts her hand once more and you tense as it comes down again, with even more force than the first time. The smack echoes through the room and you let out a strangled groan, but you are too far gone to care whether anyone else in the house can hear you.

You sniffle as tears begin to collect in your eyes. Jane spanks you again, and again, and you can feel your arousal building with each harsh slap, leaking out of your core and dripping down onto Jane’s thighs. Tears stream down your cheeks at what must be tenth or so smack, and then you hear Jane whispering praises into your ear as she strokes your sore flesh.

“Oh, darling, you’re dripping,” Jane coos sweetly. Her fingers dance over your inner thighs and you push your hips back in pure desperation.

“Jane, please” you whimper, and Jane removes her hand.

“When I’m punishing you, it’s mistress,” she says firmly, and you moan at her commanding tone.

“Please, mistress, I need you.”

“Since you asked so nicely.” You can almost hear the smirk in Jane’s voice as she swipes a finger through your folds, gathering your wetness. She begins drawing languid circles over your clit. You are still sensitive from your first orgasm, and each direct touch to the bundle of nerves sends a jolt of pleasure coursing through your body. 

She circles your entrance with two fingers, chuckling as you let out a strangled noise and shimmy your hips, begging her to enter you. The fingers dip into your core, just an inch or so, then pull out. 

“Mis- ah-” You cry out as the fingers plunge forcefully into your hole. Jane doesn’t give you time to adjust - rather, she begins a brutal pace, stretching you out with every thrust of her hand. She curls her fingers, immediately finding the sweet spot inside of you that has you seeing stars - she seems awfully skilled and you wonder, briefly, if she has done this with other maids before you - but then her fingers reach deeper and any form of rational thought or worry is quickly forgotten. 

The wet noises coming from her ministrations inside of you are obscene - these, coupled with the heavy breaths you can hear Jane take above you, send you barreling towards your release. 

“Do you want to come, little dove?” Jane’s tone is sweet and her voice gentle, but there is a dominant edge hidden in her words - you rock your hips up into her hand in response, mewling as her fingers slow their pace while she waits for a verbal response. 

“P-please, mistress,” you manage to stutter out, your core tightening. 

“Very well. You may,” Jane says airily, her fingers speeding up their pace once more as her thumb brushes against your clit. Your moans increase in both volume and vulgarity and you cry out as your second orgasm hits you like a tidal wave. You screw your eyes shut, sinful noises falling out from between your parted lips as you clench around her fingers.

It takes you a few moments before your pleasure evens out and you are able to think clearly again. Jane pulls her fingers out of your swollen pussy and gently brushes your hair off your sweaty forehead. You shift so that you are no longer lying across Jane’s lap - you sit up to face her.

“Aren’t you a noisy one?” Jane taunts, a predatory smirk spreading across her face. “I wonder how I’ll explain those heavenly moans to Edward, hmm? Or perhaps I should have you explain them yourself?”

Your face turns scarlet and your breathing stutters. You are embarrassed and a little afraid, both at being found by Mr. Murdstone and at somehow disappointing your mistress (your lover? What exactly were you to Jane now?). 

You duck your head, unable to meet Jane’s gaze, but then you feel long, slim fingers take hold of your chin and force you to look up. There’s a seductive glint in Jane’s eyes and she holds her own chin high as she tilts your face once to each side, as if appraising you. 

“Good thing Edward isn’t home right now,” she murmurs as she leans in, her breath ghosting over your face as her lips stop inches away from yours. The close proximity makes you dizzy - you feel you will go delirious with desire if she doesn’t kiss you.

Instead, her lips bypass yours - she plants a trail of wet kisses down the column of your throat until she reaches your sternum, just below where the collar of your dress usually begins. She nips at the skin there, sending a delicious chill down your spine, then begins to suck fervently. 

“Let me show you who you belong to,” she whispers against the bruising flesh.

Jane pulls back and your eyes travel down her body. Her cunt is glistening with arousal - heat pools at the apex of your thighs, and you are overcome with the need to please her. 

“See something you like?” A low, sultry voice spurs you into action. You press a searing kiss to Jane’s lips before kissing your way down her body until you reach her nipples. Your tongue darts out, soothing over the hardened bud and drawing a gasp from Jane’s throat. You look up through your lashes, watching how she leans back against the pillows, her lips parting to let out shaky breaths as your tongue swirls around her nipple.

“Can you- can you bite it?” she rasps out and you do as you’re told - she makes a soft, strangled noise and arches her back off the bed. You switch sides, giving her other nipple the same attention - soon, Jane is squirming underneath you.

Deciding enough is enough, you kiss your way down her stomach - it is soft and heavenly and you spend longer than necessary pressing your lips to every inch of skin you can reach, until Jane decides she cannot wait any longer and grips you by the hair, pulling you off of her. 

“Lay back,” she instructs, her tone so authoritative that you don’t dare argue. You do as you’re told, settling on your back and watching curiously as Jane swings one leg over your body, positioning herself above you. She scoots up until her pussy is in line with your face - sturdy thighs encase your head, boxing you in. Her hands grip the headboard tightly, steadying herself as she lowers herself onto your face.

You freeze - this is a far cry from the clumsy groping you took part in as a teenager. You want to please her, but you have never done this before and you are unsure you will measure up - from the way Jane moves, she seems to have far more experience. Jane seems to notice your hesitance - you are nervous that she will be angry. Instead, you see her face soften as she looks down at you.

“Are you alright, little dove?” she coos, and you swallow thickly, searching for the right words, your pulse hammering in your throat.

“Y-yes, mistress,” you breathe out, your voice shaking slightly. “I am afraid I won’t be… adequate?” Your voice rises at the end of the sentence as if posing a question.

Jane shifts her thigh back so that she can reach down and cup your cheek. Her hand is warm and reassuring and you melt into her touch.

“Would you like to stop?” she murmurs, and you take a moment to consider. Finally, you shake your head ‘no’.

“Can I… I would like to try. Please?” You bite your lip and Jane smiles fondly down at you.

“Very well.” Jane shifts so that she is hovering over you again. “You can place your hands here.” She taps her thigh and you reach up, wrapping your arms around her thighs - it steadies you a bit, it feels grounding and reassuring.

“Are you ready?” Jane asks.

“Yes.”

She lowers herself until her cunt is inches away from your mouth. Hesitantly, you bring your tongue to her center, licking a broad strip from her entrance to her clit. Her juices coat your tongue - they taste absolutely divine - mostly salty, a little sweet, like nothing you’ve ever tasted before. You groan against her pussy - you feel you could get drunk on the taste of her alone. The vibrations of your groan send a jolt of pleasure through Jane’s body and causes her to moan breathily in return. 

You lick a bit more firmly this time and you can feel Jane pushing herself down onto your tongue, grinding gently. Your tongue flicks at her clit and she whimpers, her grinding slowly becoming more insistent. You can hardly breathe and your jaw is beginning to cramp - you wonder if you might suffocate, but think there would be no better way to go than buried between Jane Murdstone’s thighs.

You alternate between running your tongue through her folds and sucking her swollen bundle of nerves. Her pelvis rocks against your face, insistently guiding your tongue to where she needs you the most.

“Doing- so- well,” she praises as she grinds her hips down particularly hard and your tongue slips into her entrance slightly, causing her to stifle a moan. 

Taking note of her reaction, you stick your tongue in her entrance, as far as you can reach - you feel her walls flutter around it, and the sensation causes your own walls to clench around nothing, your core pulsing and throbbing with desire for the woman above you.

A few thrusts of your tongue have Jane’s thighs tightening around your ears, her muscles rippling underneath your hands. You hold her firmly in place as her hips lose their rhythm, bucking erratically onto your face.

“Right th-there,” she pants, whimpering as your nose brushes against her clit. You think she may come soon, and you are right - she lets out a soft cry, her thighs trembling around your head as her arousal leaks out of her core in a steady stream. You catch it on your tongue and swallow greedily. You cannot see her face from this angle - she has thrown her head back - but you wish you could. Perhaps next time.

Once she stills above you, her legs loosening their hold on your head, you lap up the remaining evidence of her orgasm, cleaning her essence from her thighs. She jumps slightly as your tongue brushes against her sensitive clit - you squeeze her thighs in reassurance.

Jane swings her leg back around and sinks down next to you. Her expression is nothing short of pure bliss - her eyes are heavy-lidded, her skin beautifully flushed and sheening with a thin layer of sweat, her lips parted to let out heavy breaths. Her chest rises and falls erratically and she regards you with those icy irises, a mixture of contentment and smugness swirling deep within her pupils.

“Sweet girl.” Her voice is raspy and low and if you weren’t so spent already, it would have you ready again within seconds. She cups your cheek, her thumb tracing along your lower lip. You chase her thumb with your lips, sucking it briefly into your mouth, your eyes never leaving hers, which widen slightly at your boldness.

“Cheeky,” she comments, lips curving up into an approving smirk.

The two of you lie together for quite some time, bare legs intertwined, as Jane’s breathing evens out. The room is growing darker and you realize with a heavy heart that you must soon leave her - if you don’t show up for supper, the others will begin to ask questions.

You relay your worries to Jane, who nods in understanding and allows you to extricate your limbs from her own. You wince at the leftover stickiness between your legs - Jane notices and tells you to stay put as she gets up to grab a clean rag and wets it in the basin in the corner of her room. 

“Spread your legs," she murmurs impatiently as you simply gawk at her. You do as you’re told and she brings the cloth to your inner thighs, gently wiping away the remnants of your arousal.

“Thank you,” you whisper - you had never pegged Jane for a gentle lover, and maybe she isn’t entirely, but even this level of care is a completely new side to her that you hadn’t seen before.

Dressing quickly, you allow Jane to - wordlessly - help you with your hair. It takes twice as long this way - she is clumsy with the pins, focusing more on running her hands through the soft curls and pressing her nose to your scalp - but eventually you look acceptable and you make to leave - you will be late for supper, but you don’t care, not when you’ve spent all afternoon with Jane. You curtsey as you reach the door.

Jane snorts. “There’s no need for such formalities when we’re alone,” she chuckles. You blush and nod, unsure what to say. “Have Emily leave my supper at the door. Will you come back tonight?”

“Yes, mil- Jane. If it pleases you.”

“It pleases me,” she teases, her voice lighter than you’ve heard it since the beginning of her illness.

x

one more part to go!

tags: @dianneking @yourlocaldisneyvillain @anti-bright-places @mrs-hilmarson @rainbow-hedgehog @s-c-rambledegggs @sapphicsbeloved @eveymay @scream-queenlover @orchidsshine