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“Oh,” Lisa says, looking up in surprise, “Jean. What are you doing here?”
“Do I need a reason to be here?” Jean asks back, teasing. “Are you not reason enough?”
Lisa rolls her eyes, a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. “I didn’t mean it like that,” she tells Jean, dipping her quill back into her now half-empty bottle of ink and returning her attention to the ledger spread open before her. A small stack of recently returned books waits at her elbow, their spines neatly aligned, as she notes the titles in her careful script. “I just thought you’d gone out with Varka and the others. Clearly, though,” she says, looking up at Jean again—at the stack of documents she’s carrying, specifically, “I was wrong.”
Jean smiles sheepishly at her. “I was wondering if I could work here tonight, while the, uh… Well, while the window in the office gets sorted.”
“I’m surprised Dvalin didn’t take down the entire building with him,” Lisa jokes. “Of course, Jean. I’m just wrapping up for the day too… although I am a bit wounded that I’m not the only reason you’re here after all.”
Guilt flickers over Jean’s face, but she says, “Thank you, Lisa,” all the same. She sets her stack of documents down on the table where there’s space for it and then leans down to press a kiss to Lisa’s lips. Lisa catches her sleeve just as she turns to leave, stealing another quick peck before she shoos Jean so she can go fetch herself a chair to get comfy in.
They work together in comfortable silence. The library around them has already begun to settle into its evening hush, the most quiet it’s been all day, with people coming in and out to borrow and return books. She’s fortunately been spared from all the hustle and bustle of the expedition team’s homecoming for the most part, but there’s been more foot traffic in the library these past few days too, and then there’s the matter of research on what ingredients might satisfy their knights’ changing preferences, which—unfortunately—means more work for her. Not by a whole lot, at least, and she’s more than happy to help Jean, but enough that she knows better than to ignore it. Problems left unattended have a habit of growing, and she simply cannot be bothered to deal with something twice. She isn’t so industrious the way Jean is.
Speaking of Jean—
Lisa’s eyes flicker back up from her ledger to Jean’s face. She watches her for a while, a warm, fuzzy feeling settling in her chest like it always does when it comes to Jean. Then, a pang of sadness, because Jean’s just been so busy preparing a good homecoming for the expedition team that they haven’t really had a lot of time to themselves these past few weeks, and any time they are together, it’s fleeting. A peck on the lips, or a few minutes of cuddling before Jean succumbs to her exhaustion and sleeps like the dead through the morning. If she’s lucky, and we’re talking really lucky here, they can maybe sneak in a quickie before they both have to head out for work or before bed. At that, Lisa is hit with a sudden but potent burst of irritation—not at Jean, exactly, even if being left high and dry when all she wants is to fuck and actually indulge every second of it does annoy Lisa, and sometimes, yes, she rather unfairly directs that annoyance at Jean. But it’s not Jean she’s really annoyed at, it’s all the work she has to do. All the work that’s hogging all of the attention and time Jean should be giving to Lisa instead. All of the work that Varka’s left behind for Jean to take care of, and all of the work he should be getting back to now.
All of the work that Jean is somehow still doing in his stead.
Lisa shuts down that train of thought before it sours her mood any further, but not before it inevitably digs up old resentments on Jean’s behalf.
“Lisa?” Jean says, pulling Lisa out of her own head. It isn’t until then that Lisa realizes she must have been staring at Jean longer than she meant to. “Is everything okay?”
Lisa blinks at her, then puts on a smile, easy as you please. “It’s nothing, dear,” she answers, setting her quill aside as she leans back against her chair, “I was just… spacing out. You know how I get about work,” and here, Jean smiles a little. Then, before Jean can get a word in, Lisa stands up, stretches her arms over her hand like a languid cat waking up from its nap, and says winkingly, “I think it’s high time for a little break.”
Jean doesn’t—or can’t seem to, is more like it—say anything and just watches as Lisa reaches into one of her desk drawers for the bottle of wine she keeps around for when she’s feeling a little naughtier. Or, in this case, for the purposes of celebration, which is what she has every intention of doing: a celebration of her hardworking, high-strung, ever so beloved Jean.
Just as she grabs two bigger mugs for their wine—she doesn’t have anything more appropriate on hand, though she supposes she could negotiate a budget for that with Jean, if she really wanted to—Jean says carefully, “I… don’t think I can tonight, Lisa,” before she looks down at all of the work she still has to get through and then back up at Lisa again with a lopsided, apologetic smile this time.
“Oh, humor me, Jean,” Lisa goads, undeterred. She fills both mugs with wine and hands one to Jean, who mumbles token protests of I can’t and I still have so much to do, but Lisa shushes her with a kiss and assures her, “You don’t have to worry. This is hardly strong enough to knock over even the lightest of lightweights. Besides, you know I can’t be doing with the strong stuff anymore anyway.”
Jean looks down into the dark, burgundy liquid in her mug, still unsure.
“It’s just a little something to take the edge off,” Lisa says, leaning down just a little bit more so Jean gets a peek of her cleavage. She knows she’s playing a little dirty now, but Lisa isn’t above using tried-and-tested tactics against Jean to get her to just sit back and relax for a little bit.
Jean’s eyes flicker down to her breasts instantly, just as planned, before she whips them back up to Lisa’s face, her own face slightly flushed now—and she hasn’t even had a sip of wine yet. She clears her throat, looks down at her mug of wine again, then finally says, “Alright. I suppose one cup won’t hurt.”
Lisa beams at Jean, then rewards her with another kiss. Then, she walks around her desk, mug of wine in hand, and plops down sideways across Jean’s lap, draping an arm over Jean’s shoulders.
“Oh,” Jean huffs in surprise, steadying her grip on her mug of wine. She wraps her free arm around Lisa’s waist, laughing softly as she says, “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in your own chair?”
“I’m comfortable where I am,” Lisa replies coyly, pressing even closer to Jean like she wants to crawl into her skin, and—well, perhaps there is a small (or, maybe, not so small) part of her that actually wants to, “thank you very much.”
She feels Jean shift beneath her, an awkward little adjustment that tells her she might have gotten a bit too comfortable in Jean’s lap. She can’t help the amused, if not slightly smug, smile that pulls on her lips.
She knows that she could do something about that, knows that it wouldn’t take much at all to make a mess out of Jean given how pent-up she’s been, having little to no time for sex or to even masturbate, and besides all of that, Jean’s always been so very, incredibly responsive to Lisa’s touch, so it would just be so, so easy. Just a slow, deliberate roll of her hips to grind down against her crotch, and it would be game over for Jean. That always does the trick. And it is tempting, after weeks of having to settle for stolen kisses and sex that’s technically good but still not enough to satiate all of Lisa’s wants, and most certainly not enough to satiate Jean’s. Despite that, she finds herself just wanting to be close to Jean. Not in a sexual way—not yet, at least—but just… close. Like this.
Lisa nuzzles Jean’s cheek and says, “How about a toast?”
“A toast?” Jean murmurs, leaning into Lisa’s warmth.
Lisa hums contentedly. “To a successful event,” she says, raising her mug, “and to you, of course.”
“To us,” Jean corrects shyly but warmly, raising her own mug, “because none of this would have been possible without everyone pitching in. It wouldn’t have been possible without you.”
Lisa scoffs, something along the lines of but I hardly really did anything, you know that on the tip of her tongue, but they clink glasses—or, er, mugs—and each take a small, celebratory sip of their wine. She savors the taste of it for a moment, light, sweet, and pleasantly tart, going down smooth and leaving only a faint warmth and the lingering taste of fruit. Jean seems just as pleased with it, despite her earlier reluctance.
“Good, right?” Lisa says, trying hard not to rub it in.
Jean, well aware of what Lisa is getting at, just takes it on the chin and answers, “Quite.”
“Kaeya recommended it,” Lisa goes on to explain, taking another sip.
“He does have good taste.”
Lisa makes a small sound of agreement. “You know, Jean,” she says with fondness and just the slightest hint of exasperation, “you’re really quite terrible at letting yourself be appreciated.”
Jean tries to hide her embarrassment with a long swig of wine. “I was just stating the truth. This event, Mondstadt—I wouldn’t dare claim all the credit.”
“Yes,” Lisa concedes, then adds gently, “but we wouldn’t be here without your leadership. Really, Jean. You work yourself to the bone for Mondstadt. I think it’s only fair that you get your flowers too.” Then, without warning, she reaches up with her free hand to lightly pinch Jean on the cheek when she says, “You should be out there with them celebrating now, not burying your nose in your work like you always do. And Varka—well, he certainly has a remarkable talent for disappearing the second paperwork enters the equation, doesn’t he.”
“Lisa,” Jean sighs, conflicted.
“I’m just saying, dear,” Lisa says airily. She shifts her mug to her other hand, careful not to spill any wine on Jean’s pristine uniform, and brushes Jean’s hair back, her fingers lingering to caress Jean’s cheek before she pulls away. “You’re always thinking of everyone else, of the right thing to do and I know, I know,” she placates softly when Jean looks like she’s going to start protesting again, “that’s just how you are, and I know you don’t mind. I know it makes you happy, helping everyone in need, even if it’s for the most trivial of matters, but you and I both know it always just ends with you taking on more than anyone else, and more than you really need to.
“You’re terribly predictable that way, you know,” Lisa remarks fondly. “You see something that needs doing, and you take it on as though the whole city would fall apart without you—but that simply isn’t true. And I know you don’t begrudge Varka for any of it, that maybe to you, this is just how it’s always been—he goes chasing adventure, and you make sure Mondstadt keeps running while he’s gone, because someone has to and you’d sooner exhaust yourself than let Mondstadt suffer for it—but that doesn’t mean that’s how it always has to be.”
Jean… doesn’t say anything. She normally can’t—or doesn’t—once Lisa starts lecturing her about her bad habit of overextending herself, and about how she probably should take more issue with the way Varka keeps handing off his literal job to her. She just looks down into the dark liquid in her mug, swirls it around a little and brings it up to her lips as if to take a sip…
Only she lets out a sigh instead and says, tired, “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”
Lisa would be lying if she said she wasn’t surprised at how quickly Jean acquiesced. This isn’t the first—and certainly won’t be the last—time they’ve had this conversation in all the time they’ve known and been with each other. Jean used to be far more defensive about it, but Lisa’s worn her defenses down enough to finally get through to her. She is still stubborn as a mule about it, though, so it can’t be helped that it takes Lisa aback when Jean just… agrees with her, as she did just now.
“I’m sorry,” Lisa murmurs, pressing a kiss to Jean’s cheek, “I didn’t mean to talk your ear off about this again and ruin the mood.”
“It’s fine,” Jean says, chuckling under her breath. “You didn’t ruin the mood. And honestly? I think I just… needed to hear that again.”
Lisa brushes her thumb against the curve of Jean’s cheek, encouraging.
“I know you’re right,” Jean murmurs, staring down into her mug again, “I can’t keep doing things the way I have been, but it’s… strange, trying to imagine things any other way. I’ve spent so long keeping everything together here while Grand Master Varka was gone that it’s hard to picture what it would even look like if I didn’t. And maybe it’s going to sound a little silly, but I-I don’t know who I’d be if I stopped being that person.”
“Oh, Jean,” Lisa says softly, a tender ache settling in her chest, “You don’t need to stop being that person. I love that person. I love you. But you can’t keep being the person everyone relies on, that everyone can turn to and trust to hold Mondstadt together, if you burn yourself out, and you certainly can’t do it if you won’t put your foot down with Varka every now and then.
“I don’t mean to rag at you about this so much,” Lisa adds, genuinely apologetic, because the last thing she wants is for Jean to feel talked down to or scolded, “but I just… I always worry about you, Jean, and I love you. And, if you would allow me to be selfish for even just a moment: I’ve missed you. Or—I miss you, even when you’re in the same space as me, beside me. I wouldn’t dare to keep you from the people of Mondstadt or your duties—though, I do quite like the idea of having you all to myself”—Jean laughs shyly—“but I won’t pretend it doesn’t hurt when I barely get to see you because you’re being pulled ten different directions at once.”
She appreciates how hard Jean tries for her, and things have gotten better over the course of their relationship, but she doesn’t think anything is going to change until something is finally done about all this—and there’s no better time than now, with Varka back.
Jean seems to read her mind because she leans in to nuzzle Lisa’s face before she kisses her. “I know, and I’m sorry too,” she says as she pulls back, resting her forehead against Lisa’s. “And… Thank you, Lisa. I know it isn’t the easiest thing, being with me, and I-I do feel bad about it, every single time, knowing I haven’t always been totally present for you, but… Thank you, and I love you, and I—I don’t know if I’ve ever actually told you but… Whenever I’m with you, everything feels… quieter, somehow. In my head, and in my heart, and—I-I don’t know. I suppose what I really mean is that you are where I find my peace, Lisa.”
Lisa swallows down the sudden tightness in her throat and teases, “Have you been binge-reading romance novels again, Jean Gunnhildr? Where’d you get that, hm?”
Jean just shrugs, good-natured. “I’m just stating the truth,” she says again, echoing her words from earlier.
Lisa nuzzles Jean’s nose, so terribly, awfully, wonderfully fond. Then, she brushes her lips against Jean’s and murmurs against her mouth, “You’ll always be you, Jean, whether you’re the Acting Grand Master or not. Nothing is going to change that. A lighter workload and a stern word with Varka certainly won’t.”
Jean huffs out a laugh. “I know,” she replies, squeezing Lisa’s waist. “And… I will have it—a stern word with Grand Master Varka, that is. Or, well—maybe not too stern? But—”
Lisa cocks a brow at her.
“P-point is,” Jean mumbles, “I’ll talk to him. I promise.”
“And if he still won’t budge, you can always call me to handle things,” Lisa offers, smiling wickedly. She’d be lying if she said she doesn’t spend a good portion of her time imagining what it would be like to finally give that man a proper talking-to.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Jean says, sounding more scared for Varka than she is for Lisa.
Lisa leans in again to kiss Jean. Softly, gently. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” Jean says back, smiling against her lips.
Lisa hums softly against Jean’s mouth before she pulls back just enough to look at her. Her thumb traces the line of Jean’s jaw, thoughtful, her gaze warm with all of her affection for Jean—but that warmth burns slowly into heat, real, low-curling heat, something a little more mischievous now, when she says, “You’ve been working so hard,” her breath warm over Jean’s lips, “and I’d really like to reward you for it, if you’d let me.”
Jean tenses up for a second before she fully relaxes into Lisa’s touch, her warmth. She shifts beneath her again, eyes flickering down to Lisa’s lips and grip tightening on her waist. “Okay,” she breathes out. Then, softer: “Please.”
Lisa seizes Jean by the collar and reels her back in. The motion sends the wine in her mug sloshing over the rim and straight onto Jean’s uniform. Jean makes a muffled sound of surprise against Lisa’s lips. Lisa pulls away just to look at the mess they’ve made on Jean’s shirt and vest, and even a little bit on her very, very white pants, which Lisa supposes aren’t so white anymore.
“M-my uniform,” Jean mumbles, mortified, but Lisa just laughs, light and easy.
“Relax, Jean,” she says, “I got a bit on myself too,” as if that’s going to make Jean feel better, and then adds more coyly, “You won’t be needing your pants soon, anyway.”
“Lisa,” Jean groans, but she willingly and happily lets herself get pulled back into another kiss anyway.
Her mouth opens easily to make room for Lisa as Lisa’s tongue slides past her lips. She tastes sweet, like the wine they’d been drinking; Lisa hums, pleased, as she licks all of it up, digging her fingers into Jean’s jaw. She lurches on Jean’s lap as Jean bucks her hips up involuntarily, like even that’s too much for her to bear, the poor thing. If her mouth weren’t preoccupied, Lisa would have something to say about how she really should sit still, lest they get any more wine on themselves, but then she feels it—Jean’s rapidly stiffening cock pressing against her thighs, and now it’s like Jean can’t sit still, desperately canting her hips so she gets more friction where she needs it the most, even if having all of Lisa’s weight on her lap affords her little to no leverage.
Lisa would love to just keep kissing Jean, she really would, but she’s still lucid enough to know that it would probably be for the best if they got rid of the safety hazards they’re still holding onto right now. So, in the end, she pulls away. Jean whines in complaint, her lips trailing after Lisa’s.
“Only a second, dear,” Lisa tells her, winded and very amused by the faint pout on Jean’s face. She takes Jean’s mug from her hand. “We don’t want to ruin any more of our clothes, do we?”
Jean makes this low, grumbly noise in the back of her throat, kind of like, Fine. She keeps her eyes on Lisa the entire time as she lifts herself off Jean’s lap to walk back to her desk, taking one last sip of wine before she sets down both mugs, placing them somewhere safe, not too close to the edge that they might knock them over and ruin Jean’s precious paperwork. Better safe than sorry, after all.
She saunters back towards Jean, who reaches out for her and pulls her back onto her lap with the kind of urgency Lisa’s only ever seen her approach her work with. Lisa can’t help the giddy little giggle that escapes her lips, but that quickly melts into a gasp when Jean gets her mouth on every inch of skin available to her the second Lisa’s settled down against her again, straddling her this time. Jean leaves kisses along the column of Lisa’s neck, her jaw, and then finally she slants their mouths together again. She rocks against Lisa, holding onto her hips with a grip so tight Lisa would be more surprised if she didn’t end up with bruises in the shape of Jean’s hands there tomorrow.
Happy to provide and eager to please, Lisa starts grinding down against her too, rubbing herself against Jean’s hardness until Jean starts groaning into her mouth. She cards a hand into Lisa’s hair, knocking her hat off her head, and kisses her with a kind of desperate intensity, the way she always gets after being too busy to really be there for Lisa the way Lisa wants and needs her to be. She's starved for it, and greedy, like it isn’t enough that she has her on her lap now, or that she’s got every inch of Lisa’s body pressed up against hers. She needs more, needs to get even closer. Needs to burrow into her, to fill her lungs with her.
Lisa kisses Jean back just as fiercely, the fire in her belly licking up to a roar. If she’d been rubbing herself against Jean earlier to tease and rile her up, she’s doing it now because she needs it too. She’s throbbing with it, her panties soaked through with her arousal. She needs this, needs as much friction, stimulation, as she can get for her aching cunt, and it does something to Lisa, knowing that the one thing she wants the most, that she needs the most—the one thing that can soothe that bone-deep ache inside her—is just a few layers of fabric away from her reach. She wants Jean all the time, but there’s something about their little tryst now that just makes her crave her—her touch, her cock; Archons, she needs her cock—so much harder than she already does.
The next time they break apart for air—because it seems like Jean just remembered they have to breathe too, that they can’t just keep kissing and grinding against each other like this, as intensely and dizzyingly pleasant as it’s been—Jean’s pupils are blown wide. Her mouth looks swollen already too.
“Lisa,” she says, canting her hips up against her as if Lisa needs any reminder of how hard Jean is for her, or of how badly Jean needs to be inside her too.
“I know, dear,” Lisa murmurs, leaning in to kiss Jean again, lightly nipping at her lip as she pulls back again. She gets up only to settle down in front of Jean, on her knees. She palms Jean through her pants, and Jean’s hips rise up into her touch, her entire body twitching from the sensation. Lisa smiles up at her, gives her cock a light squeeze, and says, “Come on. Let’s get these off you.”
Jean wastes no time in shoving her pants and underwear down her hips, and then as low as she can get them, letting out a soft sigh of relief as her cock—hard and flushed a deep, angry red all the way up to the tip, slick with her precum—springs free. Lisa draws closer to her, nuzzling her face under Jean’s length appreciatively. Jean groans, the sight of that alone enough to undo her already, which is flattering in its own way, and Lisa is nothing if not prone to flattery. She wraps a hand loosely around the base, and Jean’s whole body shudders into Lisa’s hand.
Lisa licks up the underside of Jean’s cock, kissing the tip before tonguing away a bead of precum leaking out of the slit. Jean watches her through half-lidded eyes, whimpering when Lisa begins stroking up and down her length with a loose grip. Just enough to get Jean going, but not enough to set her off completely just yet. This isn’t one of their frenetic morning fucks, after all; Lisa wants to draw this out, take her time ruining Jean.
Warmth pulses between her own legs as she takes in the way Jean’s thighs twitch and flex with every drag of her hand against her cock, her hips rising off the chair as she tries to fuck up into the loose circle of Lisa’s hand. “Lisa,” she wheezes out, thighs shaking from how hard she’s trying to just keep it together because Lisa hasn’t even really done anything to her yet—until Lisa rubs her thumb around the crown of Jean’s cock and presses the pad right up against the tip, and Jean’s hips jerk so violently Lisa almost loses her grip. Jean moans, low and breathy and needy, and says, “Lisa,” again, more insistently this time, “Archons, please.”
Lisa smiles up at her, pleased. “Since you asked so nicely,” she quips, then she leans in to take Jean into her mouth, tongue swirling cleverly around her cockhead until she's whining for more, always more, trying to fuck up into her mouth and trying not to at the same time. Lisa braces her free hand against Jean’s hip, palm searing against her skin, as she hollows her cheeks around Jean and surges forward.
The desperate, almost broken noise Jean makes hangs in the air between them. She twists her fingers into Lisa’s hair, holding her down, or—depending on how you want to look at it—encouraging her to keep going. Lisa bobs her head down Jean's length, and Jean tries her best to sit still to give Lisa the time she needs to just breathe through it, but Lisa can feel every minute shift of her body, every little squirm as she tries so very hard to be good and patient for Lisa’s sake.
It’s rather endearing, really, and it only makes Lisa want to reward her even more.
Lisa breathes in through her nose and relaxes her jaw, pushing past the stinging stretch in her mouth and slowly swallowing Jean down even further, deeper, until her nose is buried in the thatch of curls at Jean’s base. She lingers there for a moment, digging her thumbs into the creases where Jean’s thighs meet her hips. A low but thoroughly pleased hum vibrates in her throat.
It feels good having Jean in her mouth. And in a strange way, it’s relaxing too, or maybe comforting is the word. Like all of the noise in her own head has finally gone quiet and now all that’s left is the fullness in her mouth, the hot weight of Jean’s cock, and the steadily growing ache in her jaw. (A good kind of ache, of course.)
She’s snapped out of her reverie when Jean says, voice rough, “Fuck.”
And there it is. That’s usually all the confirmation Lisa needs that she’s finally got Jean right where she wants her, all of that propriety that’d been drilled into her bones since childhood finally flung out of the window. Hook, line, and sinker.
“Lisa,” Jean whines, “please,” tightening her fingers in Lisa’s hair. Not enough to actually hurt or anything, although Lisa wouldn’t be the least bit opposed if she did want it to hurt even just a little. There’s fun in that too. But no—Jean tugs at her hair just hard enough to get her point across, and it’s a point well taken. Lisa’s eyes flick up Jean’s torso to find Jean looking down at her with this frustrated, pleading look, like she’s about to cry from how badly she needed Lisa to just do something already. Lisa squeezes her hips in a way that she hopes assures Jean she won’t have to wait any longer, then she starts moving.
She drags her mouth up Jean’s length and then bears down again, hollowing her cheeks. Jean gasps like all the air’s been punched out of her lungs, trembling as Lisa bobs away only to suck her back in, the wet slide of her mouth mixing with all of the sounds coming out of Jean’s mouth. Breathless, desperate whimpers of oh, fuck, and Lisa, over and over, Lisa, Lisa, Lisa—please, oh fuck, please, as she tries to fuck up into Lisa’s mouth. Like this still isn’t enough and she wants to just bury herself down Lisa’s throat.
The thought of that has Lisa moaning around Jean’s cock.
There’s something incredibly heady about having someone normally so composed lose herself like this, stripped down to her baser instincts. To have that kind of power over someone like Jean… Lisa is so turned on, it feels like her entire body is on fire. She feels like liquid from the waist down and, Archons, was she wet, her entire body pulsing with need, all that heat that’s been building and building up inside her pooling hot and heavy between her legs. It becomes harder and harder to ignore with every second that passes.
She wants to just touch herself already, desperately needs to if she doesn’t want to be driven mad by the persistent ache between her legs, but instead, she slides her arms urgently around the back of Jean’s ass and drags her closer, forcing her face down against Jean’s lap until she can barely swallow around Jean. Jean lets out a desperate noise, twisting her hand in Lisa's hair so hard it makes her scalp tingle. She sobs out, “Lisa, baby,” thighs tensing up around Lisa’s shoulders, trying to push herself deeper into the wet heat of Lisa’s mouth—and then Lisa pulls away, chest heaving.
A soft, wounded sound escapes Jean's lips as she watches her cock, spit-slick, slip out of Lisa’s mouth. “W-what,” she stammers, “why—”
Lisa smiles up at her, hopelessly fond.
She shushes Jean with a kiss to the inside of her thigh, then she leans back just far enough so that Jean can watch her pull the front of her dress down. Jean’s cock jumps when Lisa’s breasts spill out; Lisa almost laughs at the look on her face. Her beloved has never been very good at hiding just how much she loves them—not that she ever really tries to either. Lisa appreciates the appreciation, all the same.
“Just sit still,” she tells Jean, who’d started squirming in her seat, impatient to have Lisa back on her lap already so she can lavish attention to her breasts. She complies, but not without the slightest bit of confusion flashing across her face.
She watches quietly, lip caught between her teeth, as Lisa scoots closer to her again, nudging Jean’s legs apart as wide as they can get them with her pants still somewhat getting in the way, and then she leans over Jean’s lap. She stares down at her, her entire body tensed up in anticipation, and moans as Lisa pushes her breasts together against her cock.
“Archons, Lisa,” Jean groans, rolling her hips like she just can’t help it. “Are you trying to kill me?”
Lisa laughs, warmth spreading through her chest. “I did say I wanted to reward you, and what better reward than these?” She squeezes her breasts around Jean, and Jean nearly slides out of the chair the way she chases after more.
“Easy now,” Lisa teases, and Jean huffs at her, more embarrassed than annoyed. Her embarrassment quickly turns to rapt awe, though, as Lisa starts to moving her breasts against her cock.
It’s a little awkward at first, figuring out how to go about this, folded over Jean's lap. To begin with, this isn’t something they do often, partially because Jean is far too polite to tell Lisa she wants it, and partially because apart from the satisfaction of making a wreck out of Jean, Lisa doesn’t really get much else out of it. That, and when they are in the mood for this sort of thing, Lisa typically prefers to lie back in their bed and just let Jean have her fun.
But tonight isn’t about her, anyway. This is about Jean—for Jean—so Lisa makes it work, Jean’s cock just slick enough from Lisa’s ministrations earlier that the glide is fairly smooth, but Lisa spits down onto her chest, into that space between her breasts where Jean’s cock rests, anyway to make it feel even better for her. It's not Lisa's favorite part of the experience, but she's got to be creative about it, without lube on hand. Needs must, and all.
Jean’s breathing turns rough and uneven as she watches her cock disappear between Lisa’s breasts. Lisa guides them up and down against her length, squeezing and mewling softly for Jean even if she’s getting little to no physical stimulation from this herself. Lisa knows that Jean knows this, but the fact that she's deliberately putting on a show for her seems to feed right back into Jean’s arousal anyway, which is all that really matters at the end of the day.
Jean rolls her hips, searching, draws out a little then does it again. Lisa slows down to just squeeze her breasts as tightly as she can around Jean’s cock, then she dips her head at the next cant of Jean’s hips to take the tip into her mouth. She sucks on it until Jean’s entire body convulses from the barrage of sensations. Jean grits out, “Can I—?”, already reaching for Lisa’s breasts, and Lisa moans around her, nods, and lets Jean shove her hands away to replace them with her own. She lets out a startled gasp at how roughly Jean grabs onto her.
Jean murmurs a sheepish, “Sorry,” momentarily pulled out of the thick fog of her arousal. She adjusts her grip. “Is this okay?”
Lisa is more amused than upset, really. “You don’t need to hold back, darling,” she reminds Jean, “This is all for you, after all.”
But Jean just furrows her brows in that adorable way she does when she wants to argue with Lisa but knows she’s fighting a losing battle. Still, she mumbles, “I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable, that's all.”
Oh, Jean. “I am very comfortable,” Lisa assures her, only slightly patronizing. “Now, if you could please just fuck my tits already.”
Somehow, that makes Jean blush. “The mouth on you,” she mutters, chiding, as if it's more scandalous than the fact she's half-naked in the middle of the library, her cock sandwiched between Lisa's ample bosoms.
“You didn’t have anything to say about my mouth earlier when I was sucking you off,” Lisa replies mildly.
“Lisa,” Jean groans, and Lisa just laughs, bright and warm.
“Come on now,” Lisa tells her, pressing her hands over Jean’s where they hold her breasts. Urging her. “I want to watch you come for me.”
Jean answers with a helpless whimper.
She moves her hips nice and slow at first, finding her rhythm. Her eyes are locked onto Lisa’s breasts the entire time, groaning at the sight of her tip peeking out from between them with every roll of her hips. Lisa observes her in fascination, and maybe mild amusement. It's hot, yes, but it's also just mostly cute how Jean gets when she's so horny the entire world around her fades away, and she starts fixating on one particular thing that just really gets her going. Sometimes, it's the way Lisa's lips look stretched around her girth, or how tight she is around her, or the way her breasts sway as she rides her. Regardless of what it is this time around: it's cute in this filthy-hot sort of way, and it's also nice seeing Jean have nothing else to worry about for once except her cock. It's a little strange to suddenly feel so wistful while Jean uses her breasts to work out all that pent-up energy and sexual frustration, but this wouldn't be the first time, really.
It isn’t long before Jean is frantically fucking Lisa’s breasts, grunting out praises of you feel so good and you’re perfect—so perfect—“fuck, Lisa,” she moans, totally gone on it. The chair creaks and scrapes against the floor with every thrust, the slick sounds of her cock sliding between Lisa's breasts echoing in the empty library. Archons, it's obscene. Lisa flexes her thighs around the zip of pleasure in her stomach, and then she remembers—
With her own hands freed now, Lisa reaches down between her legs, into her own underwear, and cups herself. She doesn’t touch herself, even if she needs it like she needs air right now, because she knows it won’t take much to send her sailing over the edge, and because she doesn't want to miss a single second of this—of Jean, coming apart so beautifully for her, losing herself to her pleasure, and to Lisa. But she’s held off her own pleasure for so long that even the faint pressure of the heel of her hand has tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, and before she can stop herself she's deliberately grinding down against it. The moan that tumbles out of her mouth hits like a bolt of lighting straight to Jean's cock.
Jean’s pace quickens, grip tightening to the point of discomfort on Lisa’s breasts. “Are you close?” Lisa asks, rolling her hips and oh, it feels good, the way her heel brushes against her clit just right, but it’s not enough—she just needs a little bit more—but Jean nods, eyes squeezed shut in concentration and pleasure now, biting down so hard on her lip it looks like it hurts, all to stop herself from being so loud. “Yeah? Going to come for me, baby?”
“Yes,” Jean whines, her thrusts stuttering for a second, “oh, fuck—Lisa—I-I’m so close, need—need to—”
“Go ahead, darling,” Lisa coos, the heat that’s been spreading throughout her body, from the back of her skull and between her legs, seeping into her lungs. “That’s it. Just let go. I’ve got you.”
Jean releases Lisa’s breasts and grabs her cock instead, jerking herself off at a breakneck pace. Lisa inches closer to her, pushing her breasts together, and a strangled gasp of, “Lisa,” is all the warning she gets before Jean’s body goes rigid as she spills all over Lisa’s chest. Her body crumples in on itself as her orgasm tears through her like a storm, but she pumps her hand on her cock through the aftershocks anyway, sobbing from the overstimulation.
“Shh, that’s it,” Lisa says softly, voice syrupy. She kneads the insides of Jean’s thighs as she winds down—gentle, steady pressure to ground her—and Jean finally pulls her hand off her spent cock, slumping back against her chair. She shivers when Lisa gingerly wraps a hand around her and licks her clean, stopping to suck on her cockhead before she pulls away with a wet pop. “You were so beautiful, Jean. You did so well."
Jean responds with this small, happy noise. She tips her head back, closing her eyes for a second, panting, then her gaze drops again to Lisa—or, more precisely, the mess she made. “Sorry about that.”
“No, you’re not,” Lisa quips, then she pushes herself back up on her feet.
She lays herself across Jean’s lap again, and Jean eagerly showers her with kisses. Along her neck, all over her face, and then a long, lingering kiss on her lips. “You’re amazing.”
Lisa hums, satisfied. “I know.”
Jean reaches up to fondle Lisa’s breast, careful not to get her own spend on her fingers. She gives it an appreciative squeeze.
“What about you?” she asks, mouth pressed against Lisa’s pulse point. She pulls back to look up at Lisa, hand splayed over her thigh and inching dangerously close to where Lisa is still wet and throbbing.
But Lisa stops her. She takes hold of her hand and brings it up to her mouth instead, pressing a kiss into her palm. She would very much love for Jean to fuck her, but—“How about you take me home first, hm?”
She expects Jean’s eyes to flicker to the paperwork she still has to go through, the massive but hanging in the air between them, but then Jean just smiles at her, smitten, and says, “I’d like that.”
Lisa pulls her in for a kiss and feels that familiar warm flutter in her stomach.
“I do mean it, you know,” she says when she pulls back. Jean cocks her head at her questioningly. “About what I said earlier. You deserve to be celebrated, Jean. You do so much for the people of Mondstadt, and… I know that, maybe, you might think it’s not enough, or that it never will be, but it is, Jean. You will always be enough.
“You deserve to be celebrated,” Lisa tells her again, firmer this time, “and I won’t let anything—or anyone—dim your shine.”
Jean just stares at her for a moment, visibly taken aback, before her expression softens into something tender as Lisa’s words settle somewhere deep in her chest. And, just like she always does when she becomes overwhelmed by her affection, she says so earnestly it’s a little melodramatic, “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Lisa’s heart feels like it’s swelled to two, three times its size in her chest. She tries to push past how overwhelmed she feels by joking, “I hope you’re not just saying that because I let you come on my—”
“Lisa,” Jean groans, cheeks burning.
Lisa laughs, warm and so hopelessly in love. She presses a kiss to Jean’s forehead, and murmurs, “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me too.”