Still Coming Out of Your Mother Upside Down [Closed]

[whatisay]

WHO| JSwann Derulo
WHAT| Jason and Swann plot Joel's demise; Swann brings Jason home to daddy
WHEN| After IC inbox thread; later in the week.
WHERE| D8 Suite; Swann's place
WARNINGS| Typical Jason Compson awfulness. About forty tags after CakeGate, smut happens.

I.

He can feel his pulse in his neck. One as acquainted with rage as Jason comes to appreciate the different gradients of it, the difference between the blinding, maddened and desperate fury that drove him up here after the argument with Leo to the territorial concern that brings him up now. He takes the stairs instead of the elevator, since it's only one floor, and when he gets up to the eighth he tucks his phone into his workbag.

"Swann?" He takes a step into the Suite, finds her about as upset and fuming from the encounter with Joel as he figured. "Let's take a drive and figure out what to do."

It isn't the barked order he gave last time, just a steady, stern, reasonable voice.

II.

It's not that Jason's nervous about meeting Swann's father because he anticipates any great blow to his esteem; he's simply chainsmoking his way over to her place because he knows that anything less than a success will send her into another of her self-indulgent spirals of candy-bingeing and weeping. She never reminds him more of his mother than then, and it tends to kill any chemistry between them, make Jason spend more nights just going straight home after dropping her off, and that in turns fuels the decline. It's only when she decides to get peppy again that they return to normal, because God knows Jason is never the one to proactively try to improve things.

He's wearing the one suit he owns that didn't come from Swann and still looks respectable, a little outdated, but Swann told him over text message that Ilar wouldn't mind, that he would just be happy for company. He's had his car cleaned and detailed even though he knows Ilar won't see it, but it's a sort of psychological preen that turns his usual strident attitude into one more closely approaching confidence. He waits outside, smoking his camphor and leaning against the hood of the car.

waiting in lot. come on down, he texts.

Comments

[whatisay]

"We don't have all that long." He'll have to be efficient with his foreplay; thankfully, the fact that it's morning has already left him somewhat tumescent. He kisses behind her ear, licking slightly, leaving a cool mark to the air as he reaches his arm over her and strokes her nipple with his thumb. His other hand snakes down between her legs, two fingers exploring.

[cigne]

"We can be a little late." All of Swann's Tributes and most of Jason's are still in the Arena, giving them some wiggle room for scheduling. But anything else she might be inclined to say gets swallowed down when she sighs, one knee sliding over to make room and her own hand dropping into his lap to help him along, pleased that she's not starting from scratch on that front.

[whatisay]

It's relaxing this time even as they're revving up, the headiness of morning making their actions slow and smooth. He kisses her neck again, suckles slightly, not enough to leave a mark, breaking that contact occasionally to make pleased sounds as she runs her hand up and down. He moves his hand down from her breast and uses both hands, wrapped around her waist and both exploring the open workspace between her legs, stroking and teasing and finding her wet enough to make it easy.

[cigne]

Her fingers thread in the hair at the nape of his neck as she squirms a bit, hips pushing towards his hands even as she's sort of sinking into the softness of her own bed. Her toes curl as she squeezes a little and then lets go to lick her palm before going back to him, every move she makes punctuated with little breathy noises that escape when she bites her lip or furrows her brow.

[whatisay]

One finger reaches in and curls, searching for that sensitive place just out of reach, while his other hand finds her clitoris and massages it in little circles. He moans, up against her neck, chin shaking slightly as if the pleasure is as delicate as it is overpowering. He presses forward with his hips against her hand, body asking for more pressure, more friction.

[cigne]

Swann gasps and squeaks when he finds what he's looking for, and her breathing immediately speeds up, both hands unintentionally tightening, the one in his lap speeding up. "Jason," she whispers, then moans a little, not finishing her thought as he overstimulates her just slightly, making her shudder and lean forward, teeth pressing back into her lip. She lets go of him to hold herself up on the bed, moving in time with his fingers.

[whatisay]

"Say my name," he says, more against her skin than into the air. "I want to hear it again."

Because he is hers and she is his. He is jealous, covetous. He pulls her closer to his lap, rubbing against her back as a way to keep his own pressure at bay for a moment, as he holds back for a second with his fingers and then returns to her, smoother, softer than before, letting her control the pace with her hips.

[cigne]

She groans to be moved, to have him change the rhythm, and it's only instinct to push harder against his hand, trying to make him go harder, faster, the opposite, even when he won't. Because he's in charge and she is just desperately swimming against his tide.

"Jason, fuck, Jason..."

[whatisay]

With her encouragement, he goes faster, harder again, pressing with almost violent friction against and inside her. He bites at her shoulder, not hard, but almost to ground her, breathing heavy between his teeth, trying to bring her over the edge in ways that no one before ever did to her.

[cigne]

When he bites her, she hisses, just air escaping her, and she's falling more and more forward, until she can rest her forehead on the bed, caught helpless by the force of his hands on her. She squeaks and moans and swears her way through her back jerking involuntarily, but presses her face into the duvet when she cries out. It's wordless and muffled and fevered, and she shudders violently for a moment before going limp, leaving his hand soaking and dripping down to leave a spot on the bed.

[whatisay]

He groans too, not from pleasure this time but from a sort of triumph. His wet fingers trace over her stomach and lower back before returning to his own body and taking back up where she left off.

"Good?" he purrs.

[cigne]

"Uh-huh," she sighs, but then seems to sort of snap back into reality, glancing over her shoulder at him. "Oh, no... no no no, Jason..."

She flails her way toward the bedside table and comes back with a condom in one hand and her other outstretched to bat his hand away from himself. Still a bit shaky, she rises on her knees and grabs his face to kiss him as she opens the packet and rolls the latex down, which, in true Capitol fashion, has been printed with an elaborate and beautiful design, because it is very important that one's penis be as pretty as possible.

Swann does not look at it. Instead, once she finishes, biting Jason's lip as she pulls away, she's back down on her hands and knees, back arched as she looks at him over her shoulder again.

[whatisay]

A hoarse, animal noise rises up out of his gut when she kisses him, smearing its way across her mouth. His eyes are closed in a sort of bliss when she breaks from him, and that sound comes again as he sees the sight she's presenting him with. Guiding himself with one hand, he works his way into her, gripping her thigh with the other.

[cigne]

She moans and whimpers, hands knotting in the covers, and her eyes squeeze shut again. Biting the corner of her lip, she smiles and lets her head hang, hair falling around her face like curtains, and immediately presses back against him. His fingers digging into her leg make her pant.

wow thanks for hiding this notif, Yahoo

[whatisay]

He moves against her, feeling her tight but giving as if the prior orgasm has loosened her, made her softer to bend to the space he needs. Having worked his way in he grips her shoulder as well as her thigh, not hard enough to bruise but enough to leave red marks, making a soft huh huh sound as he breaths and as his hips work. He feels as if everything, every nerve, is slipping out of him and into her with hot electric sensation.

[cigne]

Every movement he makes is like fire raking against her spine and inside her belly, and Swann whines as her arms start to shake. They give out on her after a moment, and she falls to her elbows, cheek pressed to the blanket as she moves back and forth with his thrusts. Her toes curl and she swears under her breath, the sound of Jason's breath louder in her ears than it reasonably should be.

[whatisay]

"God, Swann-"

He keeps pushing into her, his vision going black, his breath catching in his throat, gasping to her what he can in praise not just for her body but for the bliss coursing through his veins, building up in pressure, arriving in fruition with another choked gasp, a shudder that moves through his entire body.

"God. God."

[cigne]

For just a few precious moments, the angle is perfect for her, and that's all she needs before she catches up, squealing and writhing, back arched. Swann grabs at the blanket for grounding, doesn't succeed in anything except bunching it up and pulling it toward herself.

When she can breathe again, she whines, leaves her face on the bed, eyes closed. "Jason..."

[whatisay]

He pulls away from her only long enough to disengage, and then all but crawls onto the bed next to her, panting and looping his arm over her back, reveling in the sweat along her skin and his. He plants a kiss on her cheek and flumps into the sheets and blanket.

"Best start to the day I've had in a long time."

[cigne]

She only makes a soft noise and rolls over, her body a line next to his and her face burrowed into his shoulder. One foot lies softly on his shin and her arm drapes over his middle. She feels almost overexerted, her limbs floppy and shaky and mostly useless.

"I don't want to go to work," she mumbles.

[whatisay]

"I need the paycheck," Jason groans, feeling that happiness starting to evaporate just at the thought of it. He moves his hand up her back so he can feel her heart beating as if through her shoulder. "You can stay here, if you want. I'll come back tonight if I can."

[cigne]

"There's no point in staying if you won't be here." She kisses his shoulder, pressing her face back to it when she's done, then sighs and sits up. She doesn't go anywhere though, only moves to straddle his waist and lie back down atop him, hair spilling across his chest. "At least if I go to work, you're only one floor away."

[whatisay]

"And we can go on lunch break," he says, squirming back a bit so the headboard props him up some, removing the condom and tossing it into the wastebasket. "You know we're practically attached at the hip by now."

Somehow, to say that doesn't make Jason happy - instead, it fills him with a sort of fear, a sense of being trapped, and he looks concerned and vacant for a moment and then wriggles out from under her to get his clothes on.

[cigne]

His expression doesn't escape her, but he does, and she sits on her knees for a moment, watching him head toward the closet. "Well... we don't have to go to lunch," she says, brow furrowing, confused by his reaction to the idea of them being so close. "We can... we can just see each other on the way home, if you want."

Swann has the opposite of commitment issues, poor thing

[whatisay]

"I said I'd take you to lunch, alright? We'll go to lunch." He roots around looking for some clothes from Swann's wardrobe for him, those hanging reminders of his insufficiency. He finds the most plain and cheapest on the rack and starts dressing.