Work Text:
Bea laughs the first time. She sat down on the sofa next to Jill, TV remote in hand, legs slung over her wife’s lap, more than ready for a restful evening. Jill – shirtsleeves rolled up, waistcoat unbuttoned for comfort and looking such that Bea did not expect this film to win the contest for her attention – Jill leaned over to her jacket on the neighbouring armchair and fished something out of the pocket.
Seeing the palm-sized box, the black and white print covering the front, the top flipped open by Jill’s thumb in that particular way, Bea lets out an indignant, “Jillian Raymond, don’t you dare!”
As far as Bea knows, her wife’s perennial attempt to absolutely, once and for all, no really this time quit smoking looks like it is going to stick this time. It’s been several months since the last stress cigarette, and Bea has noted the supply of nicotine patches and mints in their cabinets holding steady, Jill weaning herself off the chemical.
So what has driven her back to the habit? And in their living room rather than outside and away from their nice furnishings, to boot?
Jill looks straight at Bea, holding her gaze as she shakes the cigarette packet and brings to her mouth the… lollipop?
Bea lets out a relieved laugh as Jill pops the sweet in her mouth, lollipop stick poking out as she rolls it into her cheek, “Where on earth did you get lollipops in a fag packet?”
Jill pulls the lollipop out, the scraping against her teeth reminding Bea of childhood car journeys and the first time she flew, “Used to be a thing in the eighties, I found a place that makes replicas,” she punctuates her reply with a little lick, pink tongue against the green sweet, “Thought it would be funny.”
“Aside from the hot second where I thought you were smoking again, it’s hilarious.”
Jill’s smile stretches around the lollipop, as she makes herself more comfortable on the sofa, and her kisses that evening taste like sugar and apples.
****
The lollipops continue. When Bea asks about it, Jill blames the habit of fiddling with something, of having her hands and mouth occupied. A lollipop is better-tasting than the arm of her glasses, and certainly a better option than the cigarettes that left her with this habit.
It seems harmless enough. Albeit distracting.
Bea has her laptop on her knees, stretched out on their sofa one evening, and her mind should be on the holiday destinations and booking sites in front of her.
It should not be on her wife, who is just sitting in their armchair and reading her book. Not beyond considering whether Jill would enjoy this or that destination. They’ve spent many, many evenings in this very living room, both on their own activities.
But tonight, Jill has a lollipop. She rolls it around her mouth with little sucking sounds, takes it out to lick and replaces it, tugging on the stick with her elegant fingers. Every motion draws Bea’s eyes towards her and every time it takes a little longer for her to return to her laptop.
Unbelievably distracting. And deliberate, Bea realises after ten minutes spent staring at her wife and not a single page turned in Jill’s book.
“I wonder your colleagues don’t complain,” she comments, eyes back on her laptop and at least looking like her attention is too.
“Hm?” Jill looks up, the perfect picture of ‘I was in the middle of reading, what did you say?’.
“When you have your lollipops at work,” Bea continues, “It’s rather distracting.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Jill grins, waving the lollipop as a flourish, “I’m just reading here, with a treat to help me focus.”
She replaces the lollipop in her mouth again, opening her mouth and curling her tongue round the sweet such that Bea can see a tinge of blue where the colour has leached from the sweet.
“Oh, I think you know exactly what you’re doing,” Bea retorts.
“Moi?” Jill puts her book to one side, shifting over to the sofa and sitting by Bea’s feet. One hand tugs on the lollipop stick as she sucks on the sweet, “If my choice of refreshment is distracting you, I could always –,” her other hand circles Bea’s ankle, “–stop.”
“Could you now?” Bea likes where this is going. Jill playful, Jill with her mind set on one outcome, on Bea’s pleasure, on showing her feelings in the way that comes easiest to her.
“I mean,” she says, faux-matter-of-fact, the intensity of her gaze betraying her, “If I have to stop sucking this,” she puts the lollipop on the coffee table – on a coaster, Bea notes with relief, “I’ll need something else to keep my mouth occupied.”
Bea shivers, Jill’s hand trailing along her legs, teasing at the hem of her skirt, “I suppose the holiday planning can wait.”
Jill nods, “It can absolutely wait,” she carefully takes Bea’s laptop away, kneels in front of the sofa, and focuses on making Bea come on her tongue, still tinged with blue. There’s the taste of sticky-sweetness for lazy, sated kisses and Bea thinks that maybe she doesn’t mind her wife’s new habit as she lies with Jill warm in her arms.
****
It’s a few days later when an itching unpleasantness sends Bea to the GP surgery. Jill drops her off before work with a furrowed brow and the extraction of a promise to update her on the situation as soon as possible.
Said update comes later that morning in the form of a text message and attached image, from Bea to Jill.
The image is a photo that Bea takes of her pharmacy purchase – a tube of anti-fungal cream. With the text -
You gave me a yeast infection, you beast! No more lollipops!