(Jessica Jones) Bejewelled
Title: Bejewelled
Fandom: Jessica Jones (TVverse)
Pairing: Jessica/Trish
Rating: NC-17
Words: 1605
Timeline: Post-Jessica Jones Season One
Notes: Spoilers for Jessica Jones. Costume kink. For All Bingo, prompt "dress-up", and a prompt at the Jessica Jones Kink Meme.
Summary: Jessica still isn't sold on the Jewel costume. But when Trish is the one wearing it, she can see the appeal.
“I can’t believe you kept that shit,” Jessica snorts. Trish has never been one to get sentimental over objects; maybe because of all the money she has, maybe because of how she came to have that money.
Apparently there’s a first time for everything.
Trish smirks, cocks her hip like she’s goddamn posing. “You’re glad I did, though.”
Jessica snorts again, takes a swig of her beer. “I’m just glad you’re not making me wear it.”
Which is true enough. The costume that Trish made for her, the fucking Jewel costume, it’s shiny and clean and everything Jessica’s not, everything Jessica’s never been. Even before Kilgrave, that costume was never gonna be her. And it’s only now that asshole’s gone for real this time, only now she’s felt the snap of his neck under her own two hands, that Jessica can even look at the damn costume and all the stupid idealistic shit it represented once upon a time without feeling sick.
It’s progress. Not so long ago, she thought she’d never reach this point where she could joke around about how life used to be before everything got turned inside out. Real jokes, and feeling comfortable with it, not just using sarcasm as a defence mechanism. Definite progress.
And yeah, okay, she’s kind of glad that Trish kept the costume. Because Trish looks seriously fucking good in it, white and blue stretched across her hips and chest, the fabric gleaming in the artfully low lamp light of Trish’s apartment.
“So, what do you think?” Trish asks, giving this little shimmy that make Jessica wish she’d brought her camera.
She tilts her head, keeps her face blank, her tone uninterested, even though they both know Trish can see through all of Jessica’s bullshit. “I think you’re a pink wig and a pair of plastic earrings away from working a pole.”
Trish steps closer, the white leggings creaking a little as she moves, which would be funny if it weren’t for the look on Trish’s face. Playful and teasing and also fucking intense, and Jessica sets her drink down without looking where she’s putting it.
“Well, I don’t have a pole, so you’ll have to settle for a lap dance,” Trish murmurs, straddling Jessica’s lap as she sinks back against the couch cushions. The fabric of the costume feels a little stiff and surprisingly durable under Jessica’s fingers as her hands settle at Trish’s waist.
Jessica catches Trish’s weight easily when she leans back, supporting her as Trish arches and tosses her hair, chest pushed up and hips pushed forward. She rolls her body at the waist, torso moving in a slow and hypnotic circle, before leaning back into Jessica’s space, Trish’s hands resting against the back of the couch either side of Jessica’s head.
They watch each other, and Jessica’s missed that crackle of electricity between them, that heat. Too long spent apart as Jessica drowned in her demons, as she tried to keep Trish safe by keeping her distance. She should have known how it would go down in the end, that she’d need Trish by her side to take on Kilgrave. Jessica’s gotten used to being alone, but Trish has always been the exception.
She hasn’t said those three words since that day. She doesn’t need to; Trish knows how Jessica feels.
Right now, Trish is looking at her all smug, like she can tell Jessica’s mouth has gone dry and she’s barely holding back the urge to preen over it. Which can’t be allowed to stand.
“You catch all the bad guys this way, Jewel?” Jessica teases, letting her voice get low and dirty around the codename Trish picked out for her. Head falling back so she can look up at Trish, her lips slightly parted, tongue running over her teeth.
Trish smiles, rocking forward a little on her knees so her chest is closer to Jessica’s face. “I don’t know, seems effective. I’ve got you pinned, after all.”
Jessica’s eyes narrow, her lips quirk. “Have you now?” she mutters, and her fingers flex before she lifts Trish’s weight, swings her around to drop her across the couch on her back. But Trish sees it coming, goaded her into it, the sneaky bitch. Her legs are wrapping around Jessica’s waist before Jessica’s got herself balanced again, and Trish half-rolls, half-flips them to the floor.
Jessica grunts when she hits the ground, grunts again when Trish lands on her, looking more smug than ever. “Yeah, I have,” she breathes against Jessica’s mouth, and Jessica cranes her neck to kiss her quiet, but Trish pulls away. Sitting back on Jessica’s stomach, grinning down at Jessica where she’s sprawled across the floor.
Damn lucky they missed the coffee table with that little move. Although Trish’s scary kung-fu moves do have their appeal.
“Stop looking so pleased with yourself,” Jessica grouses.
Trish gives an exaggerated shrug. “I can’t help it if I make an amazing superhero.”
Jessica raises an eyebrow, reaches up, and yanks the top half of the costume down Trish’s chest.
The shriek she gets for it for fucking music to her ears.
“Oh my God, you asshole!” Trish snaps, but she’s laughing. And making no attempt to pull the damn thing back up.
Jessica lets her voice get all nasally and sing-song. “I can’t help it if the amazing superhero decided to make her costume strapless.”
Trish doesn’t have a comeback for that. She bites her lip instead, deliberately flirtatious, so Jessica figures the only acceptable response is to reach up, hands cupping Trish’s bared tits. Squeezing hard enough to make Trish gasp, make her lean into the touch, that slightly wild look in her eye she always gets when Jessica’s the perfect kind of rough.
“Show me what you got, Jewel,” Jessica hisses, digging a thumb in just below Trish’s nipple, feeling the twitch of Trish’s hips against her stomach.
“You were supposed to be Jewel,” Trish reminds her, fingers wrapping around Jessica’s wrists, encouraging her to massage Trish’s chest more firmly.
Jessica rolls them, one hand reaching back to palm the back of Trish’s head before it can hit the floor, and this time they do upset the coffee table, but Jessica’s done drinking for the night, so the spilled beer is no great loss. She presses down against Trish’s body, and Trish pushes up against her, same as always, not trying to get away but just enjoying the way Jessica can hold her down so easy.
Nobody gets to hold Trish down, but Jessica has always been the exception.
“Yeah, well, tonight you get to be her,” she says offhandedly. Trish was always the one who was gonna change the world, anyway. And Jessica could never pull off that much PVC.
Her hand moves from Trish’s hair, rests against her jaw instead when Jessica kisses her deeply. Trish’s arms wrap around her, legs spreading so Jessica can move between her thighs. Trish’s hair is everywhere, the Jewel costume squeaks against the floor when she moves, there’s beer soaking into Trish’s stupidly expensive rug, and there’s nowhere Jessica would rather be. Leaning back, just so she can watch, so she can see Trish’s eyelids flutter closed when Jessica gets a hand between them, between Trish’s legs.
The costume is thick and water-resistant, so Jessica can’t feel how wet Trish is beneath it, but she can still feel the warmth of her as she rubs her fingers against Trish’s cunt. One hand braced on the floor, Trish writhing beneath her, fucking herself up against Jessica’s hand. Pushing down with the heel of her palm, crooking her fingers until Trish is panting and murmuring her name over and over. And watching is good, but sometimes it’s too much, seeing Trish looking up at her like that, like it’s the easiest thing in the world to bare her soul to Jessica. So she leans down, mouths at Trish’s tits, sucks marks along the underside of them, presses her lips tight around a nipple, flicking with her tongue.
She knows when Trish is about to come, she’s had years of practice to learn. Hand rocking faster, and this is the only time Trish gets loud, thighs snapping closed around Jessica’s wrist as she bucks off the floor. Gasping at the air as Jessica guides her through it, keeps massaging her clit through the costume until Trish is shaky and breathless and sated, until finally Trish bats her hand away and gives Jessica a shrewd look that clashes with the flush on her face, the sweat along her hairline. “Next time, you get to be Jewel.”
Jessica rolls her eyes. “We’ll see.” She hauls Trish up in her arms, ignoring the resigned groan Trish always gives, because she can pretend all she wants that she doesn’t enjoy being carried like this, but if she really didn’t like it she’d have Jessica on the floor already with one of her ninja moves. “You still owe me a lap dance, by the way.”
She drops Trish on the way to the bed, but that’s mostly because Trish bites her neck, good and hard. And Jessica catches her again before she can hit the floor, so Trish’s bitching is totally unjustified.
The Jewel costume ends up reeking of sex and with several popped seams. But Trish insists her drycleaner is very discreet, while Jessica insists she doesn’t care. She kind of does care, though, but only because she never gets that lap dance from Jewel and there’s no way in hell Jessica’s letting that slide, no way she’s letting Trish break that promise.
Jessica’s always been stubborn, and this will be no exception.
Fandom: Jessica Jones (TVverse)
Pairing: Jessica/Trish
Rating: NC-17
Words: 1605
Timeline: Post-Jessica Jones Season One
Notes: Spoilers for Jessica Jones. Costume kink. For All Bingo, prompt "dress-up", and a prompt at the Jessica Jones Kink Meme.
Summary: Jessica still isn't sold on the Jewel costume. But when Trish is the one wearing it, she can see the appeal.
“I can’t believe you kept that shit,” Jessica snorts. Trish has never been one to get sentimental over objects; maybe because of all the money she has, maybe because of how she came to have that money.
Apparently there’s a first time for everything.
Trish smirks, cocks her hip like she’s goddamn posing. “You’re glad I did, though.”
Jessica snorts again, takes a swig of her beer. “I’m just glad you’re not making me wear it.”
Which is true enough. The costume that Trish made for her, the fucking Jewel costume, it’s shiny and clean and everything Jessica’s not, everything Jessica’s never been. Even before Kilgrave, that costume was never gonna be her. And it’s only now that asshole’s gone for real this time, only now she’s felt the snap of his neck under her own two hands, that Jessica can even look at the damn costume and all the stupid idealistic shit it represented once upon a time without feeling sick.
It’s progress. Not so long ago, she thought she’d never reach this point where she could joke around about how life used to be before everything got turned inside out. Real jokes, and feeling comfortable with it, not just using sarcasm as a defence mechanism. Definite progress.
And yeah, okay, she’s kind of glad that Trish kept the costume. Because Trish looks seriously fucking good in it, white and blue stretched across her hips and chest, the fabric gleaming in the artfully low lamp light of Trish’s apartment.
“So, what do you think?” Trish asks, giving this little shimmy that make Jessica wish she’d brought her camera.
She tilts her head, keeps her face blank, her tone uninterested, even though they both know Trish can see through all of Jessica’s bullshit. “I think you’re a pink wig and a pair of plastic earrings away from working a pole.”
Trish steps closer, the white leggings creaking a little as she moves, which would be funny if it weren’t for the look on Trish’s face. Playful and teasing and also fucking intense, and Jessica sets her drink down without looking where she’s putting it.
“Well, I don’t have a pole, so you’ll have to settle for a lap dance,” Trish murmurs, straddling Jessica’s lap as she sinks back against the couch cushions. The fabric of the costume feels a little stiff and surprisingly durable under Jessica’s fingers as her hands settle at Trish’s waist.
Jessica catches Trish’s weight easily when she leans back, supporting her as Trish arches and tosses her hair, chest pushed up and hips pushed forward. She rolls her body at the waist, torso moving in a slow and hypnotic circle, before leaning back into Jessica’s space, Trish’s hands resting against the back of the couch either side of Jessica’s head.
They watch each other, and Jessica’s missed that crackle of electricity between them, that heat. Too long spent apart as Jessica drowned in her demons, as she tried to keep Trish safe by keeping her distance. She should have known how it would go down in the end, that she’d need Trish by her side to take on Kilgrave. Jessica’s gotten used to being alone, but Trish has always been the exception.
She hasn’t said those three words since that day. She doesn’t need to; Trish knows how Jessica feels.
Right now, Trish is looking at her all smug, like she can tell Jessica’s mouth has gone dry and she’s barely holding back the urge to preen over it. Which can’t be allowed to stand.
“You catch all the bad guys this way, Jewel?” Jessica teases, letting her voice get low and dirty around the codename Trish picked out for her. Head falling back so she can look up at Trish, her lips slightly parted, tongue running over her teeth.
Trish smiles, rocking forward a little on her knees so her chest is closer to Jessica’s face. “I don’t know, seems effective. I’ve got you pinned, after all.”
Jessica’s eyes narrow, her lips quirk. “Have you now?” she mutters, and her fingers flex before she lifts Trish’s weight, swings her around to drop her across the couch on her back. But Trish sees it coming, goaded her into it, the sneaky bitch. Her legs are wrapping around Jessica’s waist before Jessica’s got herself balanced again, and Trish half-rolls, half-flips them to the floor.
Jessica grunts when she hits the ground, grunts again when Trish lands on her, looking more smug than ever. “Yeah, I have,” she breathes against Jessica’s mouth, and Jessica cranes her neck to kiss her quiet, but Trish pulls away. Sitting back on Jessica’s stomach, grinning down at Jessica where she’s sprawled across the floor.
Damn lucky they missed the coffee table with that little move. Although Trish’s scary kung-fu moves do have their appeal.
“Stop looking so pleased with yourself,” Jessica grouses.
Trish gives an exaggerated shrug. “I can’t help it if I make an amazing superhero.”
Jessica raises an eyebrow, reaches up, and yanks the top half of the costume down Trish’s chest.
The shriek she gets for it for fucking music to her ears.
“Oh my God, you asshole!” Trish snaps, but she’s laughing. And making no attempt to pull the damn thing back up.
Jessica lets her voice get all nasally and sing-song. “I can’t help it if the amazing superhero decided to make her costume strapless.”
Trish doesn’t have a comeback for that. She bites her lip instead, deliberately flirtatious, so Jessica figures the only acceptable response is to reach up, hands cupping Trish’s bared tits. Squeezing hard enough to make Trish gasp, make her lean into the touch, that slightly wild look in her eye she always gets when Jessica’s the perfect kind of rough.
“Show me what you got, Jewel,” Jessica hisses, digging a thumb in just below Trish’s nipple, feeling the twitch of Trish’s hips against her stomach.
“You were supposed to be Jewel,” Trish reminds her, fingers wrapping around Jessica’s wrists, encouraging her to massage Trish’s chest more firmly.
Jessica rolls them, one hand reaching back to palm the back of Trish’s head before it can hit the floor, and this time they do upset the coffee table, but Jessica’s done drinking for the night, so the spilled beer is no great loss. She presses down against Trish’s body, and Trish pushes up against her, same as always, not trying to get away but just enjoying the way Jessica can hold her down so easy.
Nobody gets to hold Trish down, but Jessica has always been the exception.
“Yeah, well, tonight you get to be her,” she says offhandedly. Trish was always the one who was gonna change the world, anyway. And Jessica could never pull off that much PVC.
Her hand moves from Trish’s hair, rests against her jaw instead when Jessica kisses her deeply. Trish’s arms wrap around her, legs spreading so Jessica can move between her thighs. Trish’s hair is everywhere, the Jewel costume squeaks against the floor when she moves, there’s beer soaking into Trish’s stupidly expensive rug, and there’s nowhere Jessica would rather be. Leaning back, just so she can watch, so she can see Trish’s eyelids flutter closed when Jessica gets a hand between them, between Trish’s legs.
The costume is thick and water-resistant, so Jessica can’t feel how wet Trish is beneath it, but she can still feel the warmth of her as she rubs her fingers against Trish’s cunt. One hand braced on the floor, Trish writhing beneath her, fucking herself up against Jessica’s hand. Pushing down with the heel of her palm, crooking her fingers until Trish is panting and murmuring her name over and over. And watching is good, but sometimes it’s too much, seeing Trish looking up at her like that, like it’s the easiest thing in the world to bare her soul to Jessica. So she leans down, mouths at Trish’s tits, sucks marks along the underside of them, presses her lips tight around a nipple, flicking with her tongue.
She knows when Trish is about to come, she’s had years of practice to learn. Hand rocking faster, and this is the only time Trish gets loud, thighs snapping closed around Jessica’s wrist as she bucks off the floor. Gasping at the air as Jessica guides her through it, keeps massaging her clit through the costume until Trish is shaky and breathless and sated, until finally Trish bats her hand away and gives Jessica a shrewd look that clashes with the flush on her face, the sweat along her hairline. “Next time, you get to be Jewel.”
Jessica rolls her eyes. “We’ll see.” She hauls Trish up in her arms, ignoring the resigned groan Trish always gives, because she can pretend all she wants that she doesn’t enjoy being carried like this, but if she really didn’t like it she’d have Jessica on the floor already with one of her ninja moves. “You still owe me a lap dance, by the way.”
She drops Trish on the way to the bed, but that’s mostly because Trish bites her neck, good and hard. And Jessica catches her again before she can hit the floor, so Trish’s bitching is totally unjustified.
The Jewel costume ends up reeking of sex and with several popped seams. But Trish insists her drycleaner is very discreet, while Jessica insists she doesn’t care. She kind of does care, though, but only because she never gets that lap dance from Jewel and there’s no way in hell Jessica’s letting that slide, no way she’s letting Trish break that promise.
Jessica’s always been stubborn, and this will be no exception.