It's not much of a hideout, but Jenny feels more secure with her pistols as she walks the grounds, eyes on the thicket of woods behind the shack.
A veil of radiant-red color and pale skin draws her attention.
Jenny unholsters a weapon with muscle-memory quickness, tensing her shoulders as she drops to a crouch.
It looks exactly like Katrina, tall and statuesque, with the fitted black jeans and hourglass corset—which, okay, what the hell? Of all things she could be wearing… she gets that Katrina's powerful, and a witch, but it's almost 18 degrees in Westchester County right now.
It's not that the small, round shape isn't flattering, or that Jenny's pulse isn't thudding away in her mouth. But they're in the woods, several miles from the nearest civilization, and it's impractical. She's a bit too white and too noticeable to not be covering up when it signals her location to everyone. With all that exposed skin on her neck and arms, Jenny knows she would be freezing her ass off. Even her two fleece layers, a bomber jacket, and extra pair of socks aren't doing it for her.
Some distance within, Katrina halts suddenly, her back to the other woman.
"What is it?" Jenny asks, dubious. She tilts her head to the side, attempting to glance around her with gun muzzle lifting.
"There's magic here," Katrina's voice drifts in, serene. Unworried. "I feel it in the earth." Jenny rounds her, peering at her expressionless and then the circular, moss-furry stone object.
"A sacred well?"
The opening is pitch-dark, and Jenny's not sure about tossing some in pebbles to hear how far down it goes. Especially if magic's involved.
"It's not enough to arouse suspicion, I'm certain." Katrina stares around, hands still laced in front of her as if offering prayers. She flashes a grin and there's something positively wicked in it. "Am I to believe you were seeking my presence for a reason?" she asks, patiently waiting for Jenny to answer.
Jenny clears her throat, making a wet cough or two for convincing argument. "Making sure you weren't being followed," she says, wryly, ignoring the heat and sweat plastering to her. She really should lower the gun, shouldn't she? Jenny loosens herself, not bothering to holster her pistol but clicking back on the safety.
"Only you, it would seem."
She's never been much for empathy, but there's a gloominess hanging around Katrina. Had to have been since escaping the Horseman. Jenny's working theory is the feelings aren't about him, or missing him, but about another person in Katrina's life. Or persons.
"So… how long you stuck here for?"
"I know not," Katrina says, truthfully. No less a soft quality in her accent. Her hands descending to her sides, willowy fingers separated. "Perhaps until Ichabod's death—or my own."
Jenny's brilliant, dark eyes widen, and she whistles lowly through her teeth.
"That's some optimism you got there, Glinda."
The blunt sarcasm does not go unfounded as Katrina's lips tighten together in a steely grimace. "Fate may claim my life once more," she explains.
"It's gonna come for us all," Jenny fires back, this time completely serious. She raises an eyebrow at the other woman. "Eventually we're all gonna die. Whether or not we die fighting for what we believe in or giving up, that's up to us."
Silence passes between them, and Katrina laughs—she laughs. Jenny's face heats up. Not embarrassed or in fury, because she's neither—but the noise is unexpected and clear and lovely. God, she hasn't been this screwed over since Hawley.
"You think quite like a soldier, Miss Jennifer."
"Jenny's fine, and—I mean, uh," for fuck's sake, don't start stuttering, "I just gotta protect the people I love, right?"
"As do I." Katrina nods, becoming solemn again but her green eyes remain purposefully focused on Jenny. "I love Ichabod, but it is changed. We are not as we were in the past. Not of the same mind, or the same path." She hesitates, crossing her bare arms over herself. "He and Miss Mills—"
"Yeah," Jenny cuts her off. She gets it. She's seen it with her sister and Ichy—how they communicate non-verbally, how he gazes at Abby like she's a wonderful and baffling and perfect universe; to be honest, it's disgustingly adorable but mostly disgusting. But…
"… but you're not mad at her?"
Katrina's chest sucks in a quiet, deep breath, heaving up the tops of her pale breasts.
"I hardly blame her," she admits, finally. "My marriage to Ichabod is little but a glowing ember, a memory." Katrina smiles, faraway and whimsical. "I remember a phrase spoke during our vows: 'Until death do us part'," she recites. Jenny gazes over her, frowning thoughtfully. "We have been parted from each other for centuries, and yet I imagined I would be distraught."
Now that's news.
"Wait, you're not?"
"Quite the opposite." Katrina's rosy cheeks dimple as she smiles again, and Jenny can't tell if it's mournful or encouraging. "I know this sounds strange, perhaps it is, but I feel… happiness. Ichabod has happiness. I want that feeling for myself, with an individual who loves me as deeply."
It's cold enough weather state-wide to numb bones, but Jenny's a fire, her brown skin too-warm and constricted in her two layers. Burning more vividly than red curls.
"Guess it's not impossible." Jenny's lips crack apart. "Sometimes you can be with someone even… for temporary happiness," she trails off.
She aches, and aches inside, bursting with relief when Katrina's cold, pale hands momentarily cradling the sides of her face. They slip down to grasp firmly Jenny's clothed forearms.
"Yes… I would like that."
Needing that as all the permission, Jenny tips forward, deciding against lunging and pressing a hard, dry kiss against Katrina's half-opened lips. She drags fingers over Katrina's neck, holding onto her nape and tangling her hair as the other woman lets out an astonished and overtly shy sound.
It's not shy for long, not with Katrina's own hands summoning the courage to rake over Jenny's back, to her hips and crushing them forward to hers.
The gun is tossed aside, forgotten. So is Jenny's thick, leathered jacket.
She hasn't kissed anyone in fuck-all knows but it feels great, unwinding the tension and stirring a bundle of desire in her chest. Katrina isn't afraid of pushing her tongue inside Jenny's mouth, pushing her saliva and warmth and moaning sweetly as a weapons-callused thumb soothes over her jaw.
A flicker of living heat crawls under Jenny's under-shirt, up to her muscular stomach, tickling her.
She gasps out, humiliatingly loud, almost jerking backwards and out of the embrace.
"Forgive me, goodness be," Katrina shushes her, breathless and looking gorgeously wrecked already, tenderly palming over Jenny's cheek. "I thought you would take pleasure from…"
"From what? What was that?" Jenny stares, brows furrowed. "Did…"
It's something to do with magic, isn't it?
Maybe terror should be pounding at her, distrust and caution, but all Jenny knows in this very second is her inner thighs are slickening, and she really wants to help them forget whatever apocalyptic Hell is coming for them over the horizon.
"… What else can you do?"
The woods is filthy and littered with sharp twigs and bugs.
It's not the most ideal place for sex, and yet here they are on top of a lone patch of grass. Well, the one yellowed patch of grass and a pile of their clothes.
There's a couple green leaves in her undone, black hair, because there's some dangling in Katrina's and dirt smeared over her left breast. Holy shit, they're nice breasts with fat, pinkish-brown nipples and holy shit, Jenny's really touching them and licking, tasting bitter-salt. They are fucking in the woods and they are so—
Katrina mumbles under her breath, grinning like sin as cool dampness pools between Jenny's crooked legs, from her.
She moves them, spreading her legs to accommodate the other, red-headed woman kneeling naked in the earth. And there's fingers, velvet-soft and careful and long, twisting inside Jenny, filling her and urging her to clench down. Both of Katrina's hands caress her knees.
"Oh, fuck!" Jenny arches from lying back, groaning. "Fuck, aah—"
When Katrina's hot, gentle mouth presses to her clit, lapping against it, she loses her sense of awareness. All of the pressure releases from her, every concern in the back of Jenny's mind, every fleeting thought of restraint and consequence, until it's only the sheer intensity of the orgasm.
"I believe that was…" she hears Katrina extremely pleased.
"Magic sex well?" At the deeply confused look, Jenny rolls her eyes good-natured and shakes her head, giving a laugh as she tries to regain the life back to her lower region. "Uh, nevermind, that was really good. I like what you did when—oohh—" She jolts upright when her cell vibrates underneath her. "Damn, it's Abbie," she announces, sliding it open.
"Then do we…?"
Jenny glances up from stuffing her bra into her armpit, slowing from throwing on her clothes at the visibly saddened, pinched expression.
"We can do whatever we want," she says, leaning over and grinning slightly when Katrina's eyes soften, as Jenny kisses her until their mouths feel swollen. She didn't do so well with crying after sex. "Whenever you want, understand?"
"If that's what you desire, then yes."
"Yes, definitely yes," Jenny repeats, almost bashful.
Except she is a Mills daughter, an ex-psychiatric inmate, and this is probably the first woman Jenny ever felt nervous about.
She's definitely screwed.
In celebration of 2015, you should expect a lot of new femslash from year. YEAR OF THE FEMSLASH. The ongoing sixth annual femslash_kink fest is happening on Dreamwidth and I offer up this fic for the prompt "Sleepy Hollow (TV): Jenny/Katrina: outdoor sex, dirty/messy"! I hope the fans enjoy - it's my first fic in this fandom!