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He's wearing the one suit he owns that didn't come from Swann and still looks respectable, a little outdated, but Swann told him over text message that Ilar wouldn't mind, that he would just be happy for company.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]

"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.

she's ready for the ring by date two

[cigne]

She's absolutely baffled, frozen on her knees in bed, looking at the pillows as if they might offer her some answers. "Okay," she answers quietly, then gets up and goes into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

Swann stands in front of the mirror for a few moments, looking at herself, trying to figure out if it was something she did, if she let herself get sloppy during sex and ruined it for him.

poor baby

[whatisay]

Jason, naturally, is no comfort at all. He tugs on a suit jacket and slips on his shoes, which Eta has left by the bedroom door. "Come on, are you going to get dressed or admire yourself? We're going to be late."

[cigne]

There's a beat where she glares at the door, a reaction that's halfway automatic and halfway specific to him, then brushes her teeth and comes back out in silence. She changes in the closet, grabs a pair of shoes, then throws her makeup into her purse. She'll just get ready in the Suite, she doesn't have anyone there anyway.

"Fine, let's go."

[whatisay]

Jason grabs coffee from Eta on the way out, in one of those mugs that Swann insisted on. As anticipated, the car is spotless now, although somehow that just seems to make Jason crankier. He gets in and waits for her, revving the engine impatiently.

[cigne]

Swann takes her sweet time, sipping her own mug, and gets in the car in an intentionally slow way. Not enough to set him off, but enough to be inconvenient. Once seated and fastened in, she just crosses her legs and looks out the window.

[whatisay]

"That took you long enough." He pulls out of the lot. "What's gotten into you?"

As if she's the one who started this, because, in his head, she totally has.

[cigne]

"Nothing's gotten into me. I'm fine. Didn't realize that it was a race." She takes another long, slow sip and watches the traffic go by. She has no idea what's wrong with him, or how to fix it, but mostly he's just being really irritating at the moment.

[whatisay]

"Well, you do know that work starts at six in the morning. Unless somehow you forgot that." He shakes his head and starts the drive, in silence, because he doesn't like the radio.

[cigne]

"Yes, god forbid we're five minutes late to being the only people at work to even notice we're late. If you're so worried, you can always stay in the Suites."

Swann has never needed coffee so bad as at this moment. She feels like she could throw another cake at him.

[whatisay]

"Maybe I will. You can call a cab home tonight if that's what you want. It won't be the first time I've spent the night in the Suite." Giving himself a crick in the neck from that awful plaid couch, too. He takes a drink of his coffee in that mug that he decides, right now, is stupid.

[cigne]

She's silent for a moment, then turns toward him with a sharp look, gritting her teeth a bit.

"You know, I don't know what your problem is. You always do this. We have amazing sex, everything is fine, and then you spend hours acting like I just spit on your shoes. Is this like a thing for you?"

[whatisay]

Jason lifts one hand and both eyebrows into a shrug that clearly communicates an intensely sarcastic 'what?'.

"You're the one passive-aggressively schlupping your way to the car."

[cigne]

"Yeah, because you've been mean to me ever since you got out of bed!"

But clearly he doesn't intend to clarify anything to her, so she harrumphs and slumps down in her seat, arms crossed over her chest as she stares straight ahead, into the tail lights of the car in front of them.

[whatisay]

"How was I mean to you? I told you to get dressed so we could go." He rolls his eyes at her and glares ahead at the driver, hitting his horn when they go too slowly.

"Besides, the car still smells like cake." It doesn't, but Jason would claim it does under torture at this point.

[cigne]

"You wouldn't even give me time to get ready, I'm going to have to do my makeup at work. And you snapped at me, and now I'm not even allowed to walk to the car like a normal person, I have to run to please you. And no it doesn't, you're lying. I'm sitting right where the cake was."

She huffs again and finishes off her coffee.

[whatisay]

"Then maybe you shouldn't have spent so long mooning around in front of the mirror. And I didn't snap at you. When I snap at you, you'll know it." He sniffs deep. "And yes, it does."