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spn_springfling2017-04-08 10:00 am
springflingmod.livejournal.com) wrote in spn_springfling2017-04-08 10:00 am
It’s not the having, it’s the getting by gatorgurl94 for furloughday
Title: It’s not the having, it’s the getting.
Pairing: Bela, Jo femmeslash-ish
Rating: PG-13 language
Jo can’t believe she’s doing this. Can’t believe she let Bela talk her into this. She presses her body tightly to the wall, holding her breath as the guard walks past her without even giving her darkened corner a second glance.
“Oh, you are good.” Bela whispers in her ear piece. Jo doesn’t need see Bela to know she’s being insincere; the most generous thing her tone can be called is teasing.
Jo lets out a long put upon sigh. “Are you done accessing the elevator yet?”
“Nearly there.”
“Ugh.” Jo mutters, wishing she could rip off the stupid ski mask Bela insisted she wear. She looks like something out of a bad S&M scene, she’s sweating like a stuck pig and the tight mask is giving her a headache.
“Voilà.” Bela chirps happily and the doors to the private elevator only a few feet away from Jo, slide open. “I’ve disabled the camera; you are all clear.”
“Remind me why I’m doing all the dirty work?” Jo hisses, dashing into the elevator. Being “the muscle” seemed like such a compliment at first, now she’s not so sure. The doors slide shut as soon as she crosses the threshold.
“Last I checked, love, you weren’t the one with the clearance codes or the hacking skills.” Her tone is irritatingly playful.
“Whatever.” Jo mutters, more concerned with the sweat now dripping into her eyes. She does her best to dab it away, but the black body suit Bela provided her, the one she had to be poured into, isn’t exactly absorbent. Looks damn good, though she acknowledges, catching a glimpse of herself in the highly polished panels of the elevator. She pats her butt, turning slightly to get the best view. Damn. She’d tap that, you know, if she swung that way. Which she doesn’t. Well, she doesn’t think so anyway. There’s not much opportunity for sexual exploration in bumfuck Nebraska. The closest she’s gotten to it was accidently stumbling onto some girl on girl action on Skinemax. She’d been too young and too mortified to do anything other than quickly change the channel and pretend she hadn’t seen what she’d seen.
“Get ready.” Bela instructs, suddenly all business. Jo snaps to attention, slipping into position in front of the floor panel. “Hallway is clear.” Bela says, as the doors slide open.
“Here goes nothing.” Jo mutters.
“Best of luck.” Bela offers and then goes radio silent.
~~~
Jo whoops loudly as Bela merges, effortlessly and at full speed, into traffic. They’ve both disposed of their masks but didn’t have time to bother with the cat suits. Bela speeds up and moves into the far left lane.
“Hold on tight.” Bela smirks, winking at Jo.
“Had wilder rides that this,” Jo scoffs, peeling herself off the leather seat and making herself more comfortable, their stolen necklace sliding off her lap and dropping with a thunk onto the floor board.
Bela shoots a disbelieving glance.
“Sorry.” She’s not. It’s kind of funny, but Jo thinks it’s probably better not to mention that. She picks up the case and sets it back onto her lap.
“So,” Jo asks, noticing the latch has popped open. “What’s the story here?” She lifts the lid and peeks inside. One look won’t hurt. The necklace has to touch bare skin for the curse take effect. She’s still got her gloves on and god knows there’s not one inch of skin not covered by the suit.
She carefully lifts the long diamond-and-sapphire sautoir necklace featuring a 321 carat Burmese sapphire pendant necklace out of its case. Holy shit. It’s beautiful, even in darkness of the car’s interior cannot dim the glow of its perfectly cut stones. Jo caresses the necklace; the tips of her gloved fingers lingering on the pendant which seems to pulse with its own heat.
“Jo.” Bela warns. She glances at Jo, a nervous smile on her lips.
The pendant pulses, seemingly imploring Jo to touch it, to drape it against her naked skin. An image of herself, naked and repose, her pale skin in sharp contrast to the dark sheets beneath her, forms in her mind. The necklace is draped between her breasts, a warm and vital weight against her cool skin. She closes her eyes, pressing her fingers against the stone.
Suddenly and without warning, the car jerks violently to right, crossing three lanes of traffic before finally coming to an abrupt stop on the shoulder of the highway. Before Jo knows what is happening Bela yanks the necklace and its case out of Jo’s hands.
“I said, be careful.” Bela hisses, as sets the necklace gently back into its case, snapping it shut with more force than is necessary. She exits the car, the horns of passing cars blaring at them. Dazed, Jo turns and watches as Bela pops the trunk then after a minute closes it and returns to the front seat.
Bela grips the steering wheel and sighs deeply. “It’s all right.” Bela assures her, the irritation of just moments earlier apparently forgotten. She squeezes Jo’s gloved hand with her own. “It is difficult to resist its pull.”
Jo still stunned, still thinking about the gorgeous gems and the promise of how she’d look in them-the image of which she’d understood to be a promise of comfort, love, prosperity- just nods.
“Oh, dear.” Bela snickers, though not unkindly. “You really must get out more.”
~~~
The room is fancier than any place Jo has ever visited, let alone stayed in. It reminds her of the gaudy telenovelas Dean has, on occasion, and totally against her will you understand, made her suffer through. Everything is BIG, BRIGHT and in your face OPULENT. It makes Jo feel like an interloper. For the first time since she’d agreed to Bela’s scheme, she feels hopelessly out of place in Bela’s company. Bela is a ‘town mouse’ where Jo couldn’t be more country.
Jo drops her knapsack into a nearby settee. “Nice digs.” She snarks,as a means to ease her own discomfort.
“One makes due.” Bela grins, slipping out of her navy jacket.
They’d disposed of their gear 200 miles back and were both now clad in simple jeans and a t-shirt, except that on Bela the outfit looks anything but plain. Bela peels off her t-shirt- apparently not the least bit uncomfortable or bothered to be doing so in front of Jo- revealing a cream colored, lace bra, so sheer it leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. Not that Jo was imagining anything. Jo turns away feeling heat flush up her neck and into her cheeks. She’s not a prude; it’s not even as if she’s never seen a naked woman before. She has; she’s just never had this particular reaction, this flutter in her belly, this quickening of her pulse. She thinks back to car, to Bela’s hand squeezing her own. She turns away quickly, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.
Jo busies herself with her own bag and reminds herself of the warnings she’d received from Dean and Sam about Bela, of the rumors and stories that hunters at the Roadhouse tell about her. Bela is a manipulative, cold hearted, self-serving bitch. She reminds herself of the reasons she agreed to come along...Out of the corner of her eye, she catches a glimpse of Bela’s bra, dropping to the bed. Focus, Jo. Focus! ...None of which had to do with Bela herself, only with the opportunity to forge her own way as a hunter. Her mother’s interventions and the general misogynist attitude of hunting community at large have kept Jo trapped at the Roadhouse for longer than she’d ever imagined would be the case when she left college.
Maybe Bela isn’t the most trustworthy partner, maybe she doesn’t even count as a “hunter”, but at least she treats her like a capable equal. She isn’t going to spend the rest of life tending bar at the Roadhouse. (Sorry, Mom.) If she has to go outside the normal bounds of their “profession” to make a place for herself, she’s okay with that.
“So, what’s the plan?” Jo asks, as she rummages in her bag, feeling suddenly even more awkward and out of place. She doesn’t even know why she’s pretending to need anything in the near empty knapsack.
“I meet with the buyer.”
“Buyer?” Jo shakes her head, turning back to face Bela, who has, thank god, slipped on a robe.
Jo crosses her arms. “I thought we agreed to destroy it.”
Bela looks down her nose at Jo, as if considering a bug on her shoe. “Did we? That doesn’t seem like me at all.”
Jo stews for a second. Of course, she should have known. This is exactly what Dean and Sam had warned her about.
“How much are you getting for it?” Jo widens her stand and straightens her spine in defiance. Her ass was on the line as much as Bela’s. She did all the hard work.
“Does it matter?” Bela crosses her arms beneath her breasts. Jo lets her eyes linger a little too long on her cleavage. Refusing to be distracted, she locks her gaze on Bela’s eyes and immediately strengthens her resolve. She’s not taking shit from anyone. She doesn’t care how hot Bela’s rack is. Heat rushes to her face at the thought. Get yourself together, Jo! It’s just some damn cleavage! What are you suddenly? A twelve-year-old boy?! She shakes her head, clearing her thoughts.
“Jesus, you must think I’m stupid. How much?” Jo repeats more forcefully. And, because she’s pissed at Bela for being the beautiful, charming, piece of crap liar everyone said she is, adds, “And how much is my cut?”
Bela’s haughty expression morphs into a pleased smile.
~~~
Jo wants to count every bill, lay them all out and take a picture. Maybe toss them onto the hotel bed, get naked and roll around in them, Demi Moore style. She doesn’t think that would help dispel Bela’s preconceived notions of her, so she opts for nonchalance instead.
“That’ll do, I guess.” She says smugly as she closes the two briefcases laying side by side on the edge of the bed. Bela, who is sitting on the bed, beside the cases, watches her, amused, like she’s watching the world’s most adorable kitty cat. Jo pulls the cases off and shoves them under the bed, beside her knapsack.
Bela crosses one leg over the other, places her elbow on her knee and her props her chin on her open hand. “So, what are you going to do with all that money?”
“Buy a decent car. Stock it with all the best weaponry.” Jo shrugs a shoulder. She’s not counting her chickens before they hatch. She’s not making any plans until the money is secure and away from Bela.
Bela stands, moving into Jo’s personal space. She brushes Jo unruly hair away from Jo’s shoulder then rests her hand on it.
“You know,” Bela purrs, her hand moving in a slow caress down Jo’s arm, before finally taking a loose hold of her wrist. Jo wants to look, wants to know what Bela’s long fingers look like on her pale skin, but she can’t look away. Bela stares into Jo’s eyes. They sparkle with mirth and promise and Jo has to fight to keep from closing the small gap between them. Bela cracks a small smile, “We make a good team.”
Jo nods, incapable of speaking. She can’t think for the enticing smell of Bela’s perfume or the desire burning through her.
Bela tips Jo’s chin up with her right index finger. “I think they’re may be other things we could be very good at together. Don’t you?”
Jo nods and smiles.
Pairing: Bela, Jo femmeslash-ish
Rating: PG-13 language
Jo can’t believe she’s doing this. Can’t believe she let Bela talk her into this. She presses her body tightly to the wall, holding her breath as the guard walks past her without even giving her darkened corner a second glance.
“Oh, you are good.” Bela whispers in her ear piece. Jo doesn’t need see Bela to know she’s being insincere; the most generous thing her tone can be called is teasing.
Jo lets out a long put upon sigh. “Are you done accessing the elevator yet?”
“Nearly there.”
“Ugh.” Jo mutters, wishing she could rip off the stupid ski mask Bela insisted she wear. She looks like something out of a bad S&M scene, she’s sweating like a stuck pig and the tight mask is giving her a headache.
“Voilà.” Bela chirps happily and the doors to the private elevator only a few feet away from Jo, slide open. “I’ve disabled the camera; you are all clear.”
“Remind me why I’m doing all the dirty work?” Jo hisses, dashing into the elevator. Being “the muscle” seemed like such a compliment at first, now she’s not so sure. The doors slide shut as soon as she crosses the threshold.
“Last I checked, love, you weren’t the one with the clearance codes or the hacking skills.” Her tone is irritatingly playful.
“Whatever.” Jo mutters, more concerned with the sweat now dripping into her eyes. She does her best to dab it away, but the black body suit Bela provided her, the one she had to be poured into, isn’t exactly absorbent. Looks damn good, though she acknowledges, catching a glimpse of herself in the highly polished panels of the elevator. She pats her butt, turning slightly to get the best view. Damn. She’d tap that, you know, if she swung that way. Which she doesn’t. Well, she doesn’t think so anyway. There’s not much opportunity for sexual exploration in bumfuck Nebraska. The closest she’s gotten to it was accidently stumbling onto some girl on girl action on Skinemax. She’d been too young and too mortified to do anything other than quickly change the channel and pretend she hadn’t seen what she’d seen.
“Get ready.” Bela instructs, suddenly all business. Jo snaps to attention, slipping into position in front of the floor panel. “Hallway is clear.” Bela says, as the doors slide open.
“Here goes nothing.” Jo mutters.
“Best of luck.” Bela offers and then goes radio silent.
~~~
Jo whoops loudly as Bela merges, effortlessly and at full speed, into traffic. They’ve both disposed of their masks but didn’t have time to bother with the cat suits. Bela speeds up and moves into the far left lane.
“Hold on tight.” Bela smirks, winking at Jo.
“Had wilder rides that this,” Jo scoffs, peeling herself off the leather seat and making herself more comfortable, their stolen necklace sliding off her lap and dropping with a thunk onto the floor board.
Bela shoots a disbelieving glance.
“Sorry.” She’s not. It’s kind of funny, but Jo thinks it’s probably better not to mention that. She picks up the case and sets it back onto her lap.
“So,” Jo asks, noticing the latch has popped open. “What’s the story here?” She lifts the lid and peeks inside. One look won’t hurt. The necklace has to touch bare skin for the curse take effect. She’s still got her gloves on and god knows there’s not one inch of skin not covered by the suit.
She carefully lifts the long diamond-and-sapphire sautoir necklace featuring a 321 carat Burmese sapphire pendant necklace out of its case. Holy shit. It’s beautiful, even in darkness of the car’s interior cannot dim the glow of its perfectly cut stones. Jo caresses the necklace; the tips of her gloved fingers lingering on the pendant which seems to pulse with its own heat.
“Jo.” Bela warns. She glances at Jo, a nervous smile on her lips.
The pendant pulses, seemingly imploring Jo to touch it, to drape it against her naked skin. An image of herself, naked and repose, her pale skin in sharp contrast to the dark sheets beneath her, forms in her mind. The necklace is draped between her breasts, a warm and vital weight against her cool skin. She closes her eyes, pressing her fingers against the stone.
Suddenly and without warning, the car jerks violently to right, crossing three lanes of traffic before finally coming to an abrupt stop on the shoulder of the highway. Before Jo knows what is happening Bela yanks the necklace and its case out of Jo’s hands.
“I said, be careful.” Bela hisses, as sets the necklace gently back into its case, snapping it shut with more force than is necessary. She exits the car, the horns of passing cars blaring at them. Dazed, Jo turns and watches as Bela pops the trunk then after a minute closes it and returns to the front seat.
Bela grips the steering wheel and sighs deeply. “It’s all right.” Bela assures her, the irritation of just moments earlier apparently forgotten. She squeezes Jo’s gloved hand with her own. “It is difficult to resist its pull.”
Jo still stunned, still thinking about the gorgeous gems and the promise of how she’d look in them-the image of which she’d understood to be a promise of comfort, love, prosperity- just nods.
“Oh, dear.” Bela snickers, though not unkindly. “You really must get out more.”
~~~
The room is fancier than any place Jo has ever visited, let alone stayed in. It reminds her of the gaudy telenovelas Dean has, on occasion, and totally against her will you understand, made her suffer through. Everything is BIG, BRIGHT and in your face OPULENT. It makes Jo feel like an interloper. For the first time since she’d agreed to Bela’s scheme, she feels hopelessly out of place in Bela’s company. Bela is a ‘town mouse’ where Jo couldn’t be more country.
Jo drops her knapsack into a nearby settee. “Nice digs.” She snarks,as a means to ease her own discomfort.
“One makes due.” Bela grins, slipping out of her navy jacket.
They’d disposed of their gear 200 miles back and were both now clad in simple jeans and a t-shirt, except that on Bela the outfit looks anything but plain. Bela peels off her t-shirt- apparently not the least bit uncomfortable or bothered to be doing so in front of Jo- revealing a cream colored, lace bra, so sheer it leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. Not that Jo was imagining anything. Jo turns away feeling heat flush up her neck and into her cheeks. She’s not a prude; it’s not even as if she’s never seen a naked woman before. She has; she’s just never had this particular reaction, this flutter in her belly, this quickening of her pulse. She thinks back to car, to Bela’s hand squeezing her own. She turns away quickly, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.
Jo busies herself with her own bag and reminds herself of the warnings she’d received from Dean and Sam about Bela, of the rumors and stories that hunters at the Roadhouse tell about her. Bela is a manipulative, cold hearted, self-serving bitch. She reminds herself of the reasons she agreed to come along...Out of the corner of her eye, she catches a glimpse of Bela’s bra, dropping to the bed. Focus, Jo. Focus! ...None of which had to do with Bela herself, only with the opportunity to forge her own way as a hunter. Her mother’s interventions and the general misogynist attitude of hunting community at large have kept Jo trapped at the Roadhouse for longer than she’d ever imagined would be the case when she left college.
Maybe Bela isn’t the most trustworthy partner, maybe she doesn’t even count as a “hunter”, but at least she treats her like a capable equal. She isn’t going to spend the rest of life tending bar at the Roadhouse. (Sorry, Mom.) If she has to go outside the normal bounds of their “profession” to make a place for herself, she’s okay with that.
“So, what’s the plan?” Jo asks, as she rummages in her bag, feeling suddenly even more awkward and out of place. She doesn’t even know why she’s pretending to need anything in the near empty knapsack.
“I meet with the buyer.”
“Buyer?” Jo shakes her head, turning back to face Bela, who has, thank god, slipped on a robe.
Jo crosses her arms. “I thought we agreed to destroy it.”
Bela looks down her nose at Jo, as if considering a bug on her shoe. “Did we? That doesn’t seem like me at all.”
Jo stews for a second. Of course, she should have known. This is exactly what Dean and Sam had warned her about.
“How much are you getting for it?” Jo widens her stand and straightens her spine in defiance. Her ass was on the line as much as Bela’s. She did all the hard work.
“Does it matter?” Bela crosses her arms beneath her breasts. Jo lets her eyes linger a little too long on her cleavage. Refusing to be distracted, she locks her gaze on Bela’s eyes and immediately strengthens her resolve. She’s not taking shit from anyone. She doesn’t care how hot Bela’s rack is. Heat rushes to her face at the thought. Get yourself together, Jo! It’s just some damn cleavage! What are you suddenly? A twelve-year-old boy?! She shakes her head, clearing her thoughts.
“Jesus, you must think I’m stupid. How much?” Jo repeats more forcefully. And, because she’s pissed at Bela for being the beautiful, charming, piece of crap liar everyone said she is, adds, “And how much is my cut?”
Bela’s haughty expression morphs into a pleased smile.
~~~
Jo wants to count every bill, lay them all out and take a picture. Maybe toss them onto the hotel bed, get naked and roll around in them, Demi Moore style. She doesn’t think that would help dispel Bela’s preconceived notions of her, so she opts for nonchalance instead.
“That’ll do, I guess.” She says smugly as she closes the two briefcases laying side by side on the edge of the bed. Bela, who is sitting on the bed, beside the cases, watches her, amused, like she’s watching the world’s most adorable kitty cat. Jo pulls the cases off and shoves them under the bed, beside her knapsack.
Bela crosses one leg over the other, places her elbow on her knee and her props her chin on her open hand. “So, what are you going to do with all that money?”
“Buy a decent car. Stock it with all the best weaponry.” Jo shrugs a shoulder. She’s not counting her chickens before they hatch. She’s not making any plans until the money is secure and away from Bela.
Bela stands, moving into Jo’s personal space. She brushes Jo unruly hair away from Jo’s shoulder then rests her hand on it.
“You know,” Bela purrs, her hand moving in a slow caress down Jo’s arm, before finally taking a loose hold of her wrist. Jo wants to look, wants to know what Bela’s long fingers look like on her pale skin, but she can’t look away. Bela stares into Jo’s eyes. They sparkle with mirth and promise and Jo has to fight to keep from closing the small gap between them. Bela cracks a small smile, “We make a good team.”
Jo nods, incapable of speaking. She can’t think for the enticing smell of Bela’s perfume or the desire burning through her.
Bela tips Jo’s chin up with her right index finger. “I think they’re may be other things we could be very good at together. Don’t you?”
Jo nods and smiles.