Astronomy Club Christmas Party 2014~

Astronomy Club Christmas Party 2014~

Postby kosherbacon » Wed Dec 24, 2014 10:42 pm


Isolda reached for the light switch as she entered the astronomy club's headquarters but then decided against it. Late afternoon darkness filled the classroom, reminding everyone involved that yes, it was in fact the dead of winter. The atmosphere of sunset giving way to dusk gave a fleeting, transitional feeling of rapid descent into dark places.

A laboured, arrhythmic snarling emanated from an especially dark corner where the beanbag chair happened to be. Normally, Isolda would be content to keep herself occupied while Jeanne slept, but they had an appointment.

The rattling of Isolda moving a chair into position shook Jeanne awake into a flurry of whimpers. She was shaking off some presumably unpleasant dreams given to her by the laughably outdated children's cosmology book that sat in her lap. Jeanne enjoyed reading such things, learning which of yesterday's maybes turned into today's facts by way of advancing science, and which certainties from the past have been outed as hogwash in recent years.

“Eh,” the sleeping researcher mumbled, “whaaah... Isolda?”

“Merry Christmas,” Isolda calmly said, reciting a well-rehearsed greeting.

“Same to you. Was I snoring?”

A brief dilemma fluttered through Isolda's mind. She weighed her options and the consequences of each carefully before settling on “No, not really.”

True enough. She's heard worse in her lifetime.

“Is anyone else coming?” Jeanne asked, “I haven't heard back from anyone.”

“No. As far as I know, everyone else went home.”

Every year, they hoped to organise a Christmas party amongst friends who remained at school. Every year, their plans fail to really materialise, usually leaving Jeanne and Isolda to consume copious amounts of holiday sweets. Given Jeanne's sweet tooth, it wouldn't be unreasonable to think she intentionally planned to be “stuck” having to eat her absent friends' share of cake and chocolate.

This year, Jeanne was too caught up with pre-break exams and tutoring duties to even procure snacks, leaving the astronomy club's latest Christmas party a complete bust.

“What do we do now?” Jeanne asked. “We could go...”

“It's raining,” Isolda reported, immediately extinguishing Jeanne's thought process. Vienna's famous winter wonderlands have been hampered by recent warm temperatures and sporadic rainfall.

Outside was a slushy abyss, dark, and rainy, the kind of conditions that put loners in foul moods and couples into touchy-feely ones.

“We could just skip to exchanging gifts,” Jeanne suggested.

“I would like that.”

Stuck to the vinyl beanbag and not yet fully awake, Jeanne stumbled over to the table where she had placed her bookbag.

“Here,” she presented, eagerly clutching a many-times reused gift bag that bore a tag that read “To Isolde, From Jeanne.”

Gloves, it turned out to be. Isolda immediately popped open the nylon loop that held the gloves together and tried them on. Jeanne's given her gloves before, but she's the only one who noticed how fast Isolda wore through them, particularly at the thumbs and index fingers. Thicker, more expensive gloves lasted longer, but they didn't have the sensitivity and dexterity that Isolda wanted. Good gloves should allow for all the twisting, turning, grasping, and fiddling that ungloved digits liked to do.

Isolda reached into her bag to present Jeanne her gift. While Isolda was perfectly capable of ornate and precise wrapping, she understood that Jeanne valued intent far more than presentation. Jeanne happily accepted her black plastic shopping bag that was taped shut. Her enthusiasm, however, quickly twisted into embarrassed confusion at the contents.

“Thank you,” she struggled to say. Jeanne was expecting another handful of Euros with a sticky-note stating that the coins were designated as “cake money.”

In Jeanne's hands was a clamshell-packaged personal appliance, a pink, rubber coated egg attached by cord to a handheld remote of matching colour. The packaging bore illustrations of a lingerie-clad model evidently in the throes of ecstasy.

“Um...” Jeanne pressed on, trying to find a polite way of asking Isolda if she even knew what she got for Jeanne. “How do I use it?”

“I'm pretty certain it works the same way as most vibrators do.”

“Oh, I see.”

Jeanne's feigned ignorance was fooling nobody.

“Is it okay?”

“Y-Yes, it's fine. It's a great gift. T-Thank you.”

“Would you like to try it out?”

“Um, uh...” Jeanne searched her soul for excuses. Isolda certainly knew better than to seriously expect Jeanne to try out a personal item in her presence, or so Jeanne hoped.

“I need to clean it first.”

Jeanne sighed in short-lived relief, satisfied that she found a good excuse.

“I already cleaned it. The package just snaps open.”

“Well, I've got this special cleaner for toys that I--”

“I used soapy water, then alcohol.”

Jeanne thought to herself that using rubbing alcohol runs the risk of peeling off the rubbery coating, but then she shook her head to get back on track. Isolda wanted to watch her masturbate or something and she had to get out of it.

She had to get out of it, right? She wondered for a moment, then resolved to keep talking her way out of doing anything regrettable.

“Um,” Jeanne muttered with a quivering lip, “I-I don't even know how I'd...”

“I can help you,” Isolda countered, rhythmically tapping her fingers on the tabletop where she evidently planned to inflict her designs onto Jeanne.

“But... This is kind of a thing I'd want to do with my boyfriend.”

“I did not know you had a boyfriend. If you do, then by all means have this experience with him.”

“No, I don't have a boyfriend,” Jeanne admitted. “I was speaking hypothetically. Stuff like this, it should be done by people who are in love.”

“Do you not love me?” Isolda asked, almost begging, but coming off more as an accusation.

“I do, but that's different.”

“I really like my gloves,” Isolda noted with admiration as she peeled the gloves off her hands. “They're not very pretty, like they're not in a feminine colour, and the fake suede looks cheap and... these look like gardener's gloves.”

“I'm sorry,” Jeanne squeaked.

“But these are the kind I like. They're the only ones I've found that fit my hands, and they're very comfortable. I never told you that I like these kind, or where I've bought them. You just knew what I needed and cared enough to get me new ones.”

“Well, it's not hard to see,” Jeanne attempting to explain.

“Jeanne, I believe that we have been in love for a long time.”

“What? But you never said anything.”

“I didn't think it needed to be said. I believed that we understood each other enough to know how we feel about each other.”

Jeanne slumped against the desk and tried to look as crumpled up as she felt. She felt guilty. Guilty over leading Isolda on somehow, guilty for not seeing how Isolda felt, and guilty for brushing off Isolda's requests, no matter how strange they were. Surely there was a better way she could handle things.

“Okay,” she said to herself, itemising and distilling the situation down to its base components. Jeanne just found out her friend, her only real friend, was in love with her. Also, she evidently wanted a physical relationship. In light of Isolda's stilted declaration of love, masturbating in front of her suddenly didn't seem that grotesque.

Jeanne moved on to processing the memory of her entire friendship with Isolda, like fast-forwarding through a VHS-tape in her head looking for highlights, complete with visual static and tracking errors.

All those hugs, initiated by Jeanne to a normally aloof Isolda, that got increasingly tender over time.

That one time Jeanne lost her keys and slept in Isolda's bed.

That other time when she lost her keys, and insisted that they share the bed because she felt bad about Isolda sleeping on the floor, and Isolda was too chivalrous to let Jeanne have the floor.

How she always clings to Isolda's shoulder whenever they walk.

Those times when Jeanne needed Isolda's help scratching her back in the one spot she couldn't reach.

Those times Isolda helped her shave.

All the times she felt Isolda feeling down, and eventually figuring out over time how to cheer her up with a seventy-five percent success rate.

The more Jeanne thought about it, the more she felt like Isolda was the boyfriend she never had. She always longed for someone who could be stoic without brooding, charitable without looking desperate, and someone who'd bother getting to know her without being creepy.

Well, the whole gifting of vibrators was certainly creepy, and even in the context of Jeanne's hypothetical boyfriend mental simulations, sex toys remained an inappropriate Christmas gift.

But then, Jeanne reasoned, Isolda did have her odd moments. Quirks could be annoying, but in manageable amounts, they could also be rather charming. If Isolda didn't push her boundaries, that gift would've just been another one of her quirky moments.

Jeanne concluded that she had in fact been conducting herself with Isolda as being more than a friend. But she never said anything, and they never actually kissed. Jeanne owed Isolda an apology, but giving Isolda her body and a sham relationship to go with it out of obligation wasn't the way to go.

“I'm sorry,” Isolda resigned with the reflection of her big, sad eyes piercing the night that filled the room, “I should have been more thoughtful.”

Jeanne pouted and took Isolda's hands in her own.

“You're not sorry you love me, are you?”

“That depends. Are my feelings a bad thing?”

“I'm... I like it. I feel like... okay it's greedy, but it's like even if I don't have anything else going on for me, at least I have you.”

“If that's how it is, I don't think it's healthy for us to continue like this.”

“I know,” Jeanne replied, cringing at the no-win situation that presented itself. She couldn't bear to be without Isolda at her side, but it would be dishonest and patronising to pretend to be Isolda's girlfriend for the sake of keeping their friendship intact.
Dishonest. But it would be so nice to have someone who cared about her.

It was all happening too fast. Jeanne's mind was grasping at all directions, second-guessing herself each time. She loved Isolda. But not like that. Or did she? Maybe a little. But definitely not a lot. Okay, kind of a lot. No, no, she didn't feel that way. Except when she did.

The confusion and the chaos all turned to calm whenever Jeanne let herself be aware of Isolda's warmth, her proximity, her smell. Isolda was the cause and cure to all of the world's problems that day. Jeanne pondered things carefully. Fortunately, Isolda was the patient type. Anyone else would've been panicking and jumping to conclusions instead of letting Jeanne think.

Did she think Isolda was attractive? Yes.

Would she be opposed to dating a girl? Pressed for an answer, Jeanne concluded that no, she would not be.

Would she be open to dating Isolda? Definitely maybe.

Would she be open to being intimate with her? Well, maybe not immediately...

Jeanne bit her lip and gasped.

“Let's start over,” she decided.

“What do you mean?”

“Um... um... This is all in the wrong order. Y-you should ask me out first.”

“Does that mean that you have feelings for me?”

“It-it doesn't mean that I don't.”

“I'm confused.”

“Look,” Jeanne huffed, “you say you love me and you were sure I loved you back but we never like, kissed or touched each other or went on dates or held hands or anything. We'd need to do those things before you can start worrying about pleasuring me sexually. Just because you were sure of it doesn't mean I was. Some girls are unsure of stuff and they need things to be official.”

“Oh. I'm sorry,” Isolda queried, having decided to be hand-fed instructions to avoid further misunderstandings. “What am I supposed to do?”

“When you like someone and you want to be with them, you ask them out.”

“On a date, or in general?”


Isolda took a step back from Jeanne, stiffened her posture further, and tightened her grip of Jeanne's hands.

“Go on,” Jeanne teased, “the worst that could happen would be that I say 'no.'”



“Please go out with me.”

“Yes. I mean, okay.”

Isolda was suddenly visibly relieved. The sight of her being short of breath gave Jeanne a chuckle.

“What happens next?”

“Well,” Jeanne went on as she jumped up from her slouch to grab Isolda's elbow like she always did before, “you take me on a date or two and after a while we decide if we're boyfriend-girlfriend...”


“Oh, right. And then we just figure things out from there. So, where are we going on our date?”

“Perhaps a Christmas market?”

“It's all wet and gross outside. Can we just have hot cocoa and pastries indoors somewhere?”

“That's what we always do.”

“But I like doing that.”

Isolda groaned in contemplation,“So, will this be the same as before, but official?”

“Not all the same. Um,” Jeanne paused, then looked back at the troublesome vibrator on the table. She grabbed the egg and teasingly hovered it in Isolda's face.

“Open up,” Jeanne commanded.

Isolda obediently opened her mouth, somewhat reluctantly, and allowed Jeanne to pop the egg in her mouth.

“Keep it there for a moment,” Jeanne said, after twirling the egg around. With her knees bent, Jeanne gingerly reached under her skirt and slid her tights and underpants down to her ankles. Isolda muffled something along the lines of “What are you doing?”

Jeanne shuffled her way up to the tabletop and laid down with her legs dangling off the edge.

“You were going to help me try it on, right?”

Isolda mumbled again, then plucked the spit-lubricated egg out of her mouth to get her point across.

“I thought we weren't ready for this.”

“It's Christmas,” Jeanne dismissed while kicking her tights off one leg. “Now hurry before I change my mind.”

Isolda cautiously parted Jeanne's rather abundant thighs. Her clammy hands stuck to Jeanne's soft, gossamer coloured skin. She started the day fully expecting this, but Jeanne's protests a few minutes earlier gave doubt and hesitation to her actions.

She parted Jeanne's lips and slid her fingers along. No, not wet enough.

“I'm sorry,” Isolda warned, leaning in. “I suppose this would be our first kiss.”

“Huh? Wait, are you going to-- OH.”

Isolda's tongue hit home and made delicate motions from hole to nub.

“Is this okay?” Isolda asked in a pause between laps?

“I heard that a fun thing to do is try writing the alphabet with your tongue, one letter after another.”


“Higher. Y-Yeah. There.”

Jeanne's hands grabbed around, gesturing Isolda to finally put the vibrator to use. Her knees jerked and her thighs quivered when the device was switched on.

“Not all the way in yet. Um, actually, just rub it on the outside”

“Like this?”


Isolda held the egg in place with her palm, then slipped in two fingers.

“You've done this before, haven't you?” Jeanne noted once tongue-play resumed. Isolda, naturally, didn't answer.

Jeanne bit down on her clenched fist to keep from yelping out, with her other hand grasping at her blouse buttons to find something to do.

She twitched and shook when Isolda increased the speed with the remote. With every button press hitting a higher level, Jeanne writhed, stewing in the sweat building up within her cardigan.

“Erk!,” she squeaked with her toes curling. Jeanne shuddered at her climax.

And again.

And again.

And again.

“S-Stop, stop,” she begged, clutching Isolda's head in her thighs. “It's starting to hurt.”

Isolda dutifully stopped and asked if she was okay. The hot breaths of her words caressed Jeanne's flesh and spurred on residual ecstasy.

“Wh-why did you do all that?” Jeanne pleaded, upset that Isolda interpreted her having legs up and panties down as an invitation for oral sex.

“It was still dry,” Isolda explained.

“Well, it's certainly not dry any more!” Jeanne grumbled. She shimmied upright and proceeded to affix her blouse's buttons. She was done for the evening. More time was needed to process things before anything else could happen.

“Indeed it is not,” Isolda noted, halting Jeanne from standing up with an outstretched palm. “I'm going to put it all the way inside now.”


“I've wanted to do this for a long time,” Isolda reported while while pulling Jeanne's tights back up. “I feel that it is a low-risk foray into exhibitionism. Humour me for tonight, please?”

“I, well... Okay.” Jeanne sighed, too spent to fight much more.

Jeanne rejoined her position at Isolda's side, with Isolda pocketing the remote.. As before, Jeanne was hopelessly tethered to Isolda.

Isolda asked “So, can I turn it on now?”

“Later. Too soon. But first, time for cake!” Jeanne announced.

“You haven't had dinner yet.”

“I can have dessert for dinner!”

Isolda tugged at Jeanne's cord in disapproval as they departed the room to begin the trek into town. Jeanne felt exposed. People were going to notice. They would to see how much closer they were all of a sudden. They might have noticed the little wire that ran from Jeanne's waistline to Isolda's pocket. Isolda's been reading Jeanne like a book for years. With everything being real, and with Jeanne's subconscious broadcasting of her life story on her face, everyone was going to find out.

But then again, for all Jeanne knew, everyone probably thought they were already a couple anyway. It's not like Jeanne had any male suitors that showed any promise.

“Wait...” Jeanne said, pulling Isolda to a stop as they were making their way through the downstairs common room, “Someone's calling me.”

Jeanne fumbled around with her phone, hesitating briefly with the recollection that it's generally considered impolite to carry on phone conversations during a date.

“Erik! Yeah. Thanks... Merry Christmas to you too. Are you sure it's okay with your family to be on-- Oh. What is it?”

The glow on Jeanne's face suddenly flushed away in a cold flash of sweat.

“I...Okay. Why didn't you tell me before? Well, no it's not that, I...”

For the second time that day, Jeanne's brain was misfiring at some sudden revelations. Isolda's face soured.

“Well, the thing is, AH- ahhhh... I... ahhh...”

Jeanne squirmed and shivered once Isolda's jealous fingers finally took that moment of all moments to turn the device on.

“I...” she pleaded with shaky breaths. “I can't. I'm with someone. S-Sorry. I'll explain when you come back. Bye.”

Jeanne pouted at Isolda.

“That wasn't nice. I was going to turn him down. I promise.”

“I know, but that's for not returning the favour after I went down on you.”

“I'm s-sorry.”

“Make it up for me later.”


It was either this or a catfight between Lena and her sister, Tsura, which was rather tedious to set up for.

Jeannesolda is real. This pairing is canon, dammit.
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Re: Astronomy Club Christmas Party 2014~

Postby Wren » Wed Dec 24, 2014 10:53 pm

Two thumbs up! Happy holidays all. :D
"They leave. Because they should, or they find someone else. And some of them...some of them, forget me. I suppose in the end....they break my heart." - Tenth Doctor talking about his companions.
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