((Continuation of this. NSFW))
The falafel crumbles into chunks halfway to her mouth, blotching oil down the front of her already too lived-in polo. It’s the last in a very long line of straws. Table manners are fast and loose when it’s Greek takeout at a dorm desk, but Pearl would like to finish out the week with some dignity.
“Oh, p -- fine!” Her fork clatters. She scrubs a napkin down her shirt that, honestly, should have been in the hamper hours ago. May as well burn it. After her disaster of a midterm, she’s been entertaining the idea of destroying every stitch of clothing on her body, because apparently something about her current person is all wrong, so why not start there? Small victory that the falafel oil didn’t muck up a clean one, maybe, but Pearl isn’t in the mood to count blessings.
“Anyone else feel like popping a grey hair for me? Hm?” She burns a scowl around her desk. The novella she’s been trying to relax with and the white noise station playing from her laptop have no comment.
And ugh. The tzatziki spilled.
Pearl rakes her hand through her hair, sighing. It holds in stiff peaks. The game plan had been to relax for a little bit with some reading and dinner before taking a scalding shower for an hour and a half (or however long it would take to drown out the awful essay answer she’d written for portion C). Getting all warm and clean normally puts Pearl right to sleep, but she’d missed dance due to an ankle tweak earlier in the week, which meant she hasn’t gotten her regular dose of endorphins, which leaves her muscles coiled restless, which -- on top of her slaughterhouse of a midterm -- now has her nerves whirring themselves into a frenetic foam. A full belly would help Pearl doze off, once she was nestled into bed.
Well. Would have. She shoots the remainder of her Greek takeout a glare. “You had one job.”
Deciding that she’s hit her acceptable daily limit for talking to objects, Pearl wrestles the rest of the cartons into the shared mini-fridge (darkly muttering “Falafel’s not even Greek”) after shuffling around Lapis’ array of artisanal fruit juices. There must be two dozen in here. Has she even touched any of them? Ugh. Pearl decides she’ll check their expiration dates in the morning.
She straightens again, slipping a sigh. And surprises herself by staring at her roommate’s empty bed. Lapis already left for fall break the day before, along with most of the dorm -- every student without a last-day midterm, really. So Pearl has the run of the place. For the next four days, she would have the suite plus the attached bathroom (without Lapis’ paintbrushes in the sink), the kitchen and all its niceties (a brief reprieve from “experiments” left in the microwave), and last but most gorgeously, the showers (all the hot water, all the time). All to herself.
It’s nice, in many ways. The quiet. It’s freeing.
(And. Maybe a bit lonely.)
She shuffles back to her desk to check the time on her phone: 11:34. A mere two and a half hours have passed since turning in the worst damn test of her life.
This really isn’t working, is it? Her eyes are gritty, and tired, and her body has taken on the papery kind of heat that often warns of sickness. Fitting, that’d be.
She drags a sigh.
“Just shower and sleep, Pearl.” She digs a thumb in her temple; scrubs a hand down her oily face. She’ll need to keep her strength up if she wants to sulk all break.
A quick rifle through the closet brings up her shower caddy and robe. Just as she’s about to shrug out of her rank study clothes, though, her phone chirps. Probably Amethyst. They’re both sore that their fall breaks didn’t line up, so they’ve been scrambling to nail down plans for Pearl to stay over during the winter holidays.
Already drafting the perfectly warm-but-terse response (“One foot in the shower -- call later?”), Pearl shifts the caddy in her arm so she can reach her phone, and tap in her passcode.
She’s alone, but were anyone else around to see, they could have watched all the lights inside Pearl click on at once. They could watch her posture swell -- could watch her spark a full-body smile.
A text from Rose.
Rose🌹 (11:36)
THAT WAS
AMAAAAAZING
Pearl omg we were incredible!!! 💪💪💪💪
WE WERE AMAZING
“As ever,” she laughs: quiet. She can picture the exact pictureframe grin Rose is wearing as she types. Probably blooming high pink in her cheeks, swaying a little, chin tipping forward to give her eyes more room to glow wider and brighter. Her smile lines crinkling, and her beginnings of crowsfeet: half a perfect crosshair for stray kisses --
Rose🌹 (11:36)
Sorry!! did i wake you up?
Sorry I’m jsut so EXCITED we absolutely killed
Distracted. Whoops. Pearl hurries to finish her answer, keeping her fingers steady.
Pearl (11:37)
You didn’t wake me, don’t worry!
Rose🌹 (11:37)
👏👏💪 💪 👏👏👏 WE 💪 👏👏👏💪 👏👏 WERE 👏👏👏💪 💪 💪 👏👏 AMAZONG💪
A cramp in her cheek: she’s smiling too hard. That’s happening more and more often. Pearl would expect the muscles in her jaw to get with the program and beef up.
Rose has been taking part in a semi-competitive performance festival, along with the other upperclassmen theater majors, hours upon hours away at some deliriously posh venue. They haven’t seen in each in a week. Even after scouring the theater department’s website and grilling the department heads for info, Pearl is still fuzzy on the complete details of the event, which nettles the hell out of her, frankly -- she always needs to know more about Rose -- but she’s decided to have mercy on everyone involved and just wait until Rose is back to get the full scoop. To get the blow-by-blow account, in person. To talk all about it, for however long Rose wants.
Maybe... maybe Rose would even allow Pearl to… take her out. To celebrate her success in the performance festival, of course! To reward Rose’s hard work, since it all had doubtlessly paid off, and to praise her natural talents in drama as well since those are countless when it comes to Rose, and as a token of apology that Pearl couldn’t be there to cheer her on, and to… just talk with her, more.
Maybe she could… (Pearl’s been feeding an anemic little hope in her chest)... maybe even... treat Rose to... dinner.
(Like… like a date.)
They don’t have to call it that, though! Of course! Of course not -- they don’t have to call it anything! Rose has always been wonderfully transparent about herself and the reality that her romantic orientation and preferences don’t conform to conventional understandings of what society at large would consider quote-unquote “going steady” and the absolute last thing on heaven or Earth that Pearl would ever want is to burden Rose with even the faintest sliver of discomfort, so they -- Pearl just -- if Rose wanted to, and naturally if it were feasible with her hectic schedule, and -- if she -- if there were a restaurant she liked --
It… it would be nice to treat Rose for once, is all.
(And to talk with her more.)
(Pearl always wants to talk more with Rose.)
But if Rose wants to chat a bit over text now, tonight, Pearl sees no need to rock the boat. She taps away at her response: cheek still smile-sore.
Pearl (11:37)
I’ll bet you were!
Just as she’s about to settle onto her chair, Rose’s answer flurries in:
Rose🌹 (11:38)
We all were!!! we’re an incredible TEAM pearl! ! 👊👊👊👊💪💪💪
Speaking ofthey actually need me to help tie up sum loose ends
SORRY to text and run
but ill text back if thats ok!👏👌
Pearl (11:38)
I was just about to go shower, anyway. Don’t worry!
And please do; I want to hear all about it!
Rose (11:38)
Kk! text u back in an hour? ! 💋❤️❤️
Pearl (11:38)
Sounds perfect! Good luck!
Something Pearl had noticed recently: since Rose had added herself to her contacts, the exclamation point has soared to the top of Pearl’s “commonly used” list.
A shy grin sneaks along her cheek. Small wonder, really. She’ll need to cut her pity-shower a little short, but somehow Pearl doesn’t mind -- a bit embarrassed at what that kissy-face emoji is doing to her though.
She’s slipping under the hot stream not a minute later, sighing. Post-dance showers in the dorms are usually tepid at best, with all the students here, so Pearl’s grateful she doesn’t have to trek to the rec center for decent water tonight.
Tonight. She’s going to chat with Rose, tonight. Especially with Rose out of town, they haven’t had much time all week for much more than the odd good morning text. I’m going to talk with Rose.
It becomes less of a relaxation time and more of a traditional cleansing. She recognizes that it’s sort of an exercise in silliness -- Rose is hours away -- but talking with her always makes Pearl want to be at her best. Even just thinking about Rose seems to peel back layers of Pearl. Seems to bring the best one to the fore, every time.
And Pearl’s mood... not fifteen minutes ago, she felt ready to rip out her hair at the root. Just a few words from Rose, and now her chest is a bouquet of half-giggles and sighs.
She tips her head backwards, letting the beautiful heat wash the soap and sweat and stress from her.
“‘Amazong,’ indeed,” she grins.
Soon she’s back in her room. Lounging around for the rest of the night in her cotton-terry robe is tempting, but instead she opts for some kickaround gym shorts and Amethyst’s beat-up tank top from years ago. It’s some goofy pro-wrestler merch, but it’s inordinately comfortable, and Ame says Pearl looks good in purple.
She pretends to continue leafing through the novella at her desk. Every few minutes, she’ll idly wipe away a drop of water from her nose or chin, but she’s watching her phone the whole time.
(It feels longer than an hour.)
Rose🌹 (12:29)
bleep bloop 🌟🌟🌟
All squeaky clean? ? 👍
The towel draped around her shoulders gives Pearl a place to bury her smile.
Pearl (12:29)
Something like that.
Rose (12:30)
Omg
What’s THAT supposed to mean?!? 👀👀👀
Pearl you’re so bad 💀💀💫
She giggles into her palm. Texting gives her some semblance of a cool head, talking to Rose. Sometimes she can even get her ruffled up like this. So damn cute.
That’s never the case in the flesh, of course. Of course. Pearl can as well be suave with Rose in real-time as she can speak Portuguese. But whenever she can, Pearl enjoys playing the tone-field advantage of text.
Pearl (12:31)
The very worst, I know!
So the show went well?
And that’s all it takes to be awash in the energy of Rose Quartz. Pearl doesn’t quite catch the name of the play -- part of the festival requirements stipulated student-produced works, if Pearl remembers correctly -- but the tech crew were “the real stars” (of course), Rose had just “lucked out” in getting the lead role (naturally), and the rest of the cast “were just INCREDIBLE” (they always are, according to her).
Pearl makes the note to herself to get a full calendar of the year’s shows and festivals. She wants to be at the next one. And the next. She has healthy relationships with her professors… if a performance clashes with a test or exam, maybe they can let her take it early...
Pearl
Are you on your way to an afterparty?
Rose🌹
Haha not this time ☺☺we’re driving back to our hotel!!
it’s a long drive though💔💔 the dept booked us one super last minute
so its out in the sticks!! 💩💀💀 this week has felt like half rehearsal half roadtrip!! !
i’m the only one up besides the driver everyone else is 💤💤
Pearl scowls. She could tell the department head was scattered when she talked with them. (She barged into their office, but still.)
It’s easy to get wrapped up in her own rough week, but she hadn’t been the only one. And here’s Rose: still gorgeous and bubbly as ever.
Pearl
You must be exhausted, too.
Rose🌹
Au contraire! A good show makes me invincible! ! 👊👊👊👊👌👌
feels like I could run another right NOW!💃💃💃💪💪💣👌👌
Pearl posts her cheek on her fist, leaning into her grin. That little crinkle Rose gets in her forehead when she’s really excited must be there -- the cute one she gets when her eyebrows flex a mess along with the dimples in her cheeks.
Rose🌹
wbu though??☺ are you excited to relax over break? 👌👌👌
was your midterm ok?👂
Rather than relive the entire horror, Pearl decides to leave it simple. Talking with Rose should involve pleasant things, not… drudgery.
Pearl
It was pretty bad.
She pauses.
Pearl
Horrible, really.
And that’s all it takes to get caught up in explaining exactly how ridiculous the week had been. The injury, however minor, the pent-up nerves, the resulting sleeplessness, and of course the cerebral constipation during her exam that topped it all off. The whole week had been a sequence of Pearl’s body completely, totally, and disastrously failing her. All Pearl hopes is that she and her subpar flesh vessel can call a truce and just sleep.
(After talking with Rose, of course.)
Rose🌹
Oh nooooo 💩💩
Gosh I’m so sorry you had a tough week
I swear i’ll do somethin to spoil you when I get back!!
Strange: Pearl feels better, already.
Rose🌹
It sounds like u worked really hard!! 👏👏☺👌👍
idk even how you even manage to major in dance AND physics 👀👀
you’re honestly incredible
Oh. Oh. Her chest flutters, helpless.
“You are,” she whispers. “That’s you, Rose.”
Rose🌹
You should reward yourself after all that! !
Take the rest of the night to unwind 💆👏🎵🎵
She twists her mouth at the splayed novella on her desk -- and the few crumbs of falafel she’d missed while cleaning. She isn’t even really big on Greek. But she and Ame would always end up at a local joint after hellish times, so Pearl’s come to associate the cuisine with relaxation. Should’ve known it was more about the company.
Pearl sighs.
Pearl
I was trying that just earlier, actually.
Rose🌹
In the shower, you mean?
She nearly drops her phone.
Did she just...? Surely not.
… surely yes. This is Rose, after all.
Nerves bubbling a small laugh, Pearl corrals her fingers into typing.
Pearl
Rose, goodness.
Rose🌹
My *favorite* kind of stress relief, personally. ❤
She still fumbles with her phone (surely that’s shower moisture on her hands, and not sweat) but Pearl manages a snort, too. Rose always seems to put much more vigilance into proofreading whenever she implies things.
Pearl
Whatever leads you to believe that I would do such a thing?
Rose🌹
Wishful thinking? ❤🎶❤
Sitting up straighter in her chair -- weighing her options -- Pearl lays out the situation in her mind’s eye. There are several possibilities here, without too many risky factors. So she sets up a careful probe; she wants to see where this is going.
Pearl
Who’s the bad one, now? Honestly.
Leading innocent young women astray over text.
The past few weeks, their relationship (sexual friendship? platonic lovers? crush with benefits?) has taken an unexpected but wonderfully playful turn. Both she and Rose are clever, and both enjoy displaying that fact, and both are so jarringly fond of one other that their growing familiarity has come with the delightful development of mischief. Soft fingers thieving into Pearl’s backpocket as they walk to class together -- the discovery of panties far too small for Rose on top of the books in her backpack -- breathless, laughing threats of various tortures: tickles and touches, hours of kisses.
It’s gentle. It’s exciting. It pours the best kinds of carnival glow into Pearl.
Rose has other lovers, she knows. Rose has always been open with that. (Has always been safe with her -- has regular tests at the health clinic, has brought Pearl along for one of her own.) She’s shared the names and relevant data of her other handful of partners, and even pointed out a few around campus. But the two have come to spend so much time together… it’s unclear how anyone else gets more than a word in edgewise.
She’s still terribly in love with her, of course. But it feels good. It feels good, becoming closer. Engaging in play with her. It excites Pearl. Makes her laugh. (Makes her have to do laundry twice a week.)
The phone buzzes in her hand.
Rose🌹
If I’m honest, Pearl,
I think about you doing it very often.
“Oh my god.” Her phone nearly slips again.
Rose🌹
Usually while *I’m* doing it. ❤️
This conversation is not at all what Pearl anticipated. She can’t say it’s disagreeable, though. They hadn’t… in the past week, they were both too... busy... and Pearl was too stressed to… decompress. It makes this atmosphere especially effective.
Sweeping a guilty look around the room, Pearl takes a moment to lick the corner of her lips and pull in her knees: perching cross-legged in her chair.
Counterattack.
Pearl
Are you typically this flirty after shows?
Maybe I should tag along, next time.
A jangle of nerves drives Pearl to nibble her lip. Hopefully that wasn’t too flippant?
Rose🌹
You’re always such a cool little customer over text.
But I bet you’re shifting in your seat.
Aren’t you?
Well. She is now. Rose’s smirk rises to her mind’s eye like a mirage. Rose is mostly soft and gently, endlessly sweet, but underneath there’s this… this compulsion, this command, something irresistible that Pearl finds herself lingering upon. It rings hard and smoked like sugared iron. And it’s so gorgeously, lusciously easy to give into, because it tells Pearl only good things. It’s in the gaze Rose shutters from across a dim room as she snakes out of her dress: in her voice when she pins Pearl, defenseless and grateful, urging her to come.
Pearl wouldn’t expect that presence to stowaway through texts. And yet here it is: thrumming a buttery pizzicato down her backbone. It’s different this way, though. It’s new. Somehow, it’s more embarrassing than just having Rose here, scorching her ears with soft things… but, it...
It’s also exciting. The realization settles into Pearl’s skin like a fine mist: This is exciting.
She shoots a guilty look over her shoulder -- as if Lapis were due to materialize.
Urgh. Don’t think about Lapis right now. She swallows as she scrounges up a response (“What do you imagine me doing, exactly?”) and feels her heart triple to a trot when the bubbled ‘...’ pops up.
Rose🌹
I like to imagine you trying all kinds of things with yourself.
Maybe finding a fun little toybox to play with --
(I have one you could borrow, you know. ❤)
-- locking yourself away in your room, for some exploring.
“Oh, my god,” Pearl breathes. Rose imagining Pearl getting off… Rose getting off to the thought of Pearl getting off…
She shivers, a little.
Rose🌹
Starting with a cute little vibe, maybe...
Enjoying yourself until you can’t even stand. ❤️
Her lips are dry. She wets them. (They immediately dry, again.)
She lets her eyes skim closed just a moment. Surrenders to a flash-image of herself: spilling pleased and boneless from the bed, knees giving out like water -- sinking, maybe, to the floor at Rose’s feet -- sweat-kissed skin and all-over trembling as Rose tutted and cooed --
Rose🌹
Do you touch yourself, Pearl?
“Ohmigoddddd.” She buries a groan into the wood of her desk -- grimaces at the buzz against her cheek. She rubs the itch away, and feels from the lollipop heat of her skin that she’s flushing full. Shit. Shit. Isn’t text supposed to be her playing field?
Okay. Okay. This is okay. Pearl is not going to fall for 8th-grade embarrassment psyche-outs. Just... be natural. It’s totally natural.
Pearl
Of course I do.
Rose🌹
Of course you do.
Pearl swallows. It snags.
Rose🌹
I’d love to watch, sometime.
There’s. That’s... an image.
Rose’s eyes swallowing her up, from head-to-curling-toes: murmuring soft little encouragements or sympathies when the heat crests too sweetly, when she cries out bright and -- or -- or maybe Rose curled up behind Pearl’s shaking body in the twisted sheets: whispering filthy little things between nibbles on her ear -- maybe even guiding those pianist fingers against sleek heat: coaxing Pearl to pleasure.
God. God.
The gulp that guts her throat is sluggish as she wrestles her fingers into typing.
Pearl
If you’re just teasing to get me frazzled, it’s working.
She rereads her message, and winces at the wan sheepishness she hears. Rose’s bubbled ellipse instantly pops up.
Rose🌹
Do you not like this? Do you want to stop?
Then, hurriedly:
Rose🌹
It’s totally okay if you do! We can talk about other stuff ☺❤✌
“Oh, oh wait,” she mumbles, and begins to type again. Rose cuts her off, though -- Pearl can picture the plaintive eagerness in her voice. An apology, almost. Rose will hurry to shape her fingers to Pearl’s shoulder when she wants to comfort her, or to explain herself, and Pearl can feel their warmth now as she reads Rose’s message.
Rose🌹
Sorry, Im sorry! I know this is sudden
I’ve wanted to do this for awhile now honestly
I wish I could help you relax in person, but this is the next best thing I got ☺💦💦💦💦💦☺☺💦💦💦
'Relax.' Pearl has to squeeze a laugh from her dizzy-warm chest. ‘Relax.’ Feels more like her body’s being fed electric current.
Pearl
… keep going?
Her belly’s astir with the familiar blend of embarrassment and excitement Pearl’s come to associate with Rose. It just... feels different, now, not having Rose’s presence to explain the sensory milling.
Still feels nice, though. Still Rose -- still safe -- still pleasant. Pearl feels no need to rock the boat.
Besides. It’s super hot.
Pearl
This is... new, but I think I like it.
There’s apparently no need to twist Rose’s arm. She slips back into character with earnest. (Pearl can picture the thrilled tilt of her lips; can feel herself kissing them.)
Rose🌹
I’m glad, because it’s only the honest truth.
If your body moves anything like when you dance, it’d be such a treat to see.
It’s a thrill for me to think about.
How many of your sounds would I recognize?
How many would be new?
Do you keep secret little sighs for yourself, Pearl?
As the words appear on screen it’s like… like they cup Pearl’s cheek. Like they weave through her hair, petting fondly: settle a comfortable curl in her lap. They’ve begun a physical register. A tender trace along her skin, still shower-soft, and warm.
Rose🌹
Tell me how you’re feeling? ❤️
Good? Bad? We can stop anytime. ❤️
Testing… cautious… Pearl ghosts the heel of her palm between the juncture of her thighs. Convinces herself that she’s still damp from the shower.
Pearl
I
Ts okay.
Liar, her brain flashes. Filthy little liar. The cocktail of simmering attention from Rose (Rose), plus the fizzy newness of this play has a golden-good Morse code drumming in tandem with her heartbeat. The message it sends reads More. Keep going. You like this. More. Keep going. You like --
She presses ‘send’ and a wave of giddy heat drops her stomach an inch. Writing it out, and sending -- it feels so different from simple speech. Feels so much more intentional. Feels like Rose is reaching into her, even from miles away, and tugging guilty little morsels from her body by decadent degrees.
Pearl’s so caught in the rush that she doesn’t notice her double-message and missing punctuation until Rose has already responded.
Rose🌹
That’s very good.
(Her belly rolls, reading that. Toes curl.)
Rose🌹
Are you comfortable? Would you like to lie on your bed?
It’s obvious where this is going. That this is escalating -- that it’s working -- because Pearl finds her legs unpretzeling themselves. Finds herself rattling a sigh, and taking the shaky steps she needs to perch on the edge of her bed. Finds herself prickling sweat, in places.
Pearl
How are you doing… this?
Rose🌹
This is all your body, Pearl.
I’m not even in the room.
If only she were. God.
Pearl swallows. Somehow, she feels even more vulnerable to these charms than normal -- whether it’s from this new medium, or how much stress she’s accumulated, or… who even knows? She settles back onto her pillows (very, very aware of certain parts of her body) as her phone lights up again.
Rose🌹
Remember we can stop anytime! 👌☺☺
I’m having fun, but I want you comfortable, too.❤
Rose wants me comfortable. Pearl flushes, pleased. Rose is always, always so considerate. Not wanting to rush. Checking in on her. A smile tugs itself over Pearl’s cheek as she taps back a response (“All nestled in bed, now.”) and awaits more directions.
‘Having fun.’ Of course. Of course Rose is having fun, bringing Pearl to heated pieces through nothing more than text. But… it feels nice, too. It feels good to sink into this. It feels good, being part of the reason Rose is enjoying herself.
And maybe it’s a little exciting to be... toyed with.
Rose🌹
Snug as a bug? 💗💗💖❤💋
She puffs a laugh.
Pearl
Something like that.
Rose🌹
Omg
Is that your mysterious phrase of the night?? 👀👀
Pearl
Something like that.
Rose🌹
OMFG💣💣💥
Laughter bubbles up before she can help it and Pearl ducks her chin, grinning -- almost burrows into the blankets. It’s a tactic that’s yet to help in the slightest when they play-wrestle, but the habit is set.
Rose🌹
You little scamp!! 👿👿💫
Ooooh I’mg onna get you GOOD when I’m back 👄💋
A few more giggles stray from Pearl as she nestles into bed, mindful of her ankle. Comfy. Good. She lets slip a sigh as she brings her phone closer again.
Pearl
I’ll hold you to that.
Rose🌹
You must look so cute right now.
I bet you’re flushed to the root! You always turn such a pretty coral-pink.
I love it. ❤
Lets me know I’m doing a good job kissing.❤💗❤
Kissing. Pearl lets the pad of her thumb brush her round of bottom lip. Kissing Rose.
They haven’t kissed in over a week, and her lips tingle with the absence.
Rose🌹
Please don’t if you’re uncomfortable, but I would like to see a picture of you.
Would that be okay? ❤
Only if you’re comfortable, though! Please don’t, otherwise. ❤
Pearl’s stomach drops and heats: sweetens, too. Rose wants to see me. Her thumb presses against her teeth and she nibbles the fleshy pad of it: the nerves tinkle, pinken. Rose wants to see me. The thought is like slipping into a hot bath. Like extra dessert: filling and warm.
And Pearl lets herself just. Enjoy that, a moment. The glow of it. Of Rose.
Rose.
She brings the phone near her lips a moment. Murmurs, “Rose.”
Rose; Rose.
The need to please her is tremendous. Every day. An almost physical pull, starting in the scant meat of her calves (stringing Pearl up to her toes to kiss, urging her to walk faster when she spots Rose across the quad), spilling through her hungry bowl of hips (adding extra sway to her step when she feels Rose watching), filling her narrow chest when she calls out to her: “Rose.”
She wants to take her name and wear it.
Rose.
… though… at the same time… unwanted memories of all the intimate photos Pearl’s seen scattered across the internet come to mind. ‘Revenge porn,’ she’s heard it called. It’s ruined some people’s careers and personal lives, or worse. Not that Rose would ever, ever do such a thing, of course, but… Pearl’s never sent pictures of herself, before. Not even to Amethyst. Not to anyone.
And the request is a sudden one -- it’s enough to make Pearl nervous.
She finds herself cringing as she types a response.
Pearl
Maybe not right now?
Rose🌹
Okay! ❤ Very good job -- thank you for being honest! ❤️
Pearl lets go of a sigh she hadn’t felt herself holding. (And a little rush of pride at the praise.)
Rose🌹
Your bed makes it so easy to relax…
You managed to make a dorm mattress something I can sink into. ❤️
And she had. More than once, now. The greedy parts of Pearl want to have Rose over here right now, want her to sleep over more often. She wants her bedsheets to take on her scent. Rose’s room is far more comfortable, though -- gorgeous and sprawling and lush with dark woods -- so it’s hard to feel too wistful.
Rose🌹
How are you most comfy on your bed?
Hm. Pearl’s been a back-sleeper most of her life, but recently… Rose-recently… she’s found herself curling up on her left side. Facing the wall, just as she had the first time Rose spooned her. As though the simple act of making room for Rose could be a suitable surrogate for her presence.
(Not even close.)
Halfway through explaining this through text, Pearl stomach wrenches with a horrible greenness once she realizes the simple intent behind the question: Rose just wants to know what position she’s in.
Her heart hits a gallop as her brain hits the brakes, and she rushes to remedy the spoof --
Rose🌹
Oh my goodness.
Pearl
Sorry, I’m sorry!
I misunderstood the question.
Rose🌹
Omg ❤️❤️❤️❤️
She gives a little wail.
Pearl
Rose, PLEASE.
Rose🌹
you are just hte CUTEST THING!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
“Oh, god!” Pearl buries her face into her pillow and groans. Her face is in bloom. In the back of her head, Rose’s laughter rings out -- she’s probably giggling to herself in the backseat, wherever she is.
Pearl
I'm sorry, I’m ruining this.
She’s awful at this. God. God! She should have practiced with Amethyst when she offered, years ago --
Rose🌹
Don’t be sorry! I’M sorry! !
You’re just so cute! !!
Pearl
I’m making an idiot of myself.
Rose🌹
You’re making me smile in the dark.
… oh.
That. She.
… (oh.)
Pearl might melt into the bed, a little.
Rose🌹
You’re making me want to kiss you.
Pearl melts into the bed a lot.
Kissing Rose. Rose kissing me. Her eyes list, wanting to drift closed. Lips want to shape in soft ways against Rose’s.
Halfway through coaching her shaky fingers to garble something intelligible, Pearl’s cut off again:
Rose🌹
But this isn’t about me right now. Is it?
This is about you.
This is about thanking your body for all its hard work.
And it does work hard, doesn’t it?
I only want you to answer if I’m asking a specific question, Pearl.
I’ll tell you to “tell me.”
I’ll be doing most of the talking, now.
That will free up your hands for more important things.
Her belly churns. She’s deliciously trapped in this.
Rose🌹
Before we continue, I’ll ask one more thing.
Tell me, do you want to stop?
Dumb fingers fumble.
Pearl
No.
Rose🌹
Then we won’t, for now.
But anytime you want to, press my name on the screen, and call me.
Okay?
It feels like Rose has stopped to ask this several times… the frequency is a bit distracting. But then, she can’t gauge Pearl’s comfort by sight or sound like she normally can.
(Shit poker face, Amethyst calls it. Maybe that’s not so bad a thing.)
She’s just being careful with Pearl. She always is.
Pearl
Okay.
Rose🌹
That’s my girl. ❤️
The vermouth glow that’s been slowly filling her hips spills at the praise. Oh, god.
For the second time tonight, Pearl buries her face in the pillow and groans. God. It was so close to “good girl.” That’s supposed to feel nice, right? Compliments? Encouragements? Just reading those words is enough to make her belly melt.
Rose’s voice has long begun to glaze over each message -- like she’s here in the room with her, feeding this heat -- but it’s now that Pearl can feel her breath, too: painting gorgeous things against her skin.
Rose🌹
So you’re on your back, you’re holding your phone right-handed, on your chest…
Tell me, where’s your left hand?
The one-handed technique has come in handy, apparently. High school was good training. She almost regrets nagging Amethyst for on-the-sly texting in class.
Pearl
Also on my chest?
Rose🌹
That’s very good. That’s a good way to feel yourself breathe.
The moment Pearl reads the words, of course, she has an overwhelming awareness of her breath.
Rose🌹
Feel how your body takes air in…
… and lets it go.
Doesn’t it feel nice?
Pearl’s abruptly hyperaware of how her tank shifts with each breath -- how the material abrades her skin, just so.
She begins to respond (“Yes, it feels good”) but --
Rose🌹
Ah ah ah, I didn’t say “Tell me.” ☝💕
Pearl’s head bows, sheepish. She deletes her first response.
Pearl
I’m sorry.
Rose🌹
Rule number 2: No apologizing~☝☝☝❤
Her chin dips again. Rose has always been a stalwart proponent of getting Pearl to stop saying ‘sorry’ so much. Would often staunch Pearl’s babbling mid-syllable with a finger to her lips, and seal it with a kiss: one loaded with enough purring, whirligig color to blitzkrieg every petty gaffe out of Pearl’s short-term memory. Effective and pleasant -- much more useful than apologies.
Rose🌹
Your body takes what it needs to live, and you don’t even need to think about it.
But when you do stop to notice,
It feels good.
Doesn’t it?
Breathe in…
hold it…
… and breathe out.
Pearl does; she’s amazed at how quickly her thoughts begin to settle. To smooth. To warm.
Rose is right. Even breathing feels good.
Rose🌹
Tell me, how do you feel?
Pearl
Good.
Rose🌹
That’s right, Pearl. Your body wants you to feel good.
Your body wants to take care of you.
You should take care of your body, too.
She shifts -- edges a guilty look at her ankle.
Rose🌹
You push and push and *push* yourself,
and should take the time to reward yourself, too.
Start with your head -- that clever brain had its work cut out for it this week, didn’t it?
Let your left hand touch your head a little, Pearl.
Pet your fluffy hair. ❤
Pearl does. Her hair isn’t quite fluffy yet, though -- still a bit damp from the shower. Lucky that she cleaned up earlier... Rubbing lank, oily hair would not be nearly as relaxing.
And this is relaxing. It’s very nice, but... she imagines it’s Rose’s hand, instead. Rubbing slow, chamomile circles behind her ear, like she likes… slowing her brain to something lazy and sweet, humming like a honeycomb.
Sometimes Rose will let the backs of her fingers trace down her cheek, too... nock tender under Pearl’s chin... tip her upwards for a kiss...
Rose🌹
I love your hair, Pearl. You always smell so *good.*
Pleasure flushes her cheeks. Rose thinks Pearl smells good?
Rose🌹
I love that you keep it short, too... I’m sure it’s beautiful long,
but it makes it so easy for me to get to your neck.
Yes. Yes, it does.
Lips, and teeth, and tongue... Rose’s fingers teasing, only half-innocent, as they wait in line for coffee… changeling teeth grazing her throat, just enough to tingle. Sunshine mouth licking a hot stripe over the trill of Pearl’s moan -- quiet smells of sweat in a dark room --
Rose🌹
Let’s touch there, next.
Feel how soft the skin of your neck is, Pearl.
Tell me, what’s it like?
Hesitating, she lets her fingers play along the tendon near her pulse… feels her own heart tapping: her body, talking: hears it pleading for more. Feels the layer of gooseflesh that stirs.
More. Keep going. You like this.
Pearl
Its sensitive.
It feels good.
Rose🌹
Isn’t it nice? Thank your body with another touch, Pearl.
With nails, this time -- just enough to graze.
Pearl does. Sienna warmth spreads down her collar, rich and dizzy, like she’s drinking mulled wine. Like it’s spilled, a little: heady and dark.
Rose🌹
Isn’t your body incredible?
Your body wants to take care of you.
It wants you to feel good.
I want you to take care of me, Pearl hears herself, petulant. The thought is small but insistent. I want you to make me feel good.
Rose🌹
Tell me, Pearl,
What are you wearing? ❤
Even with her head whirling, Pearl manages to curb a giggle with her palm. There aren’t many elegant ways to ask that, are there?
Pearl
Some jersey shorts and a tank.
And panties.
Rose🌹
No bra?
Pearl
No bra.
Pearl can’t remember the last time she wore a bra, actually. She… doesn’t really need one.
Rose🌹
Ooh, very good. ❤
I love the way your shirts sit on you. So easy to slip under for mischief.
Makes it easy to play with your firm little tummy. ❤
And how Rose enjoys that. Loves to murmur secret fireplace things along the smooth skin as she wanders: to marvel and mouth at the twists of sinew: so close to the surface. Loves to kiss, loves to tease -- to tickle when she’s feeling puckish.
Rose🌹
Try that right now…. just feel, a little.
It would be an otherwise innocuous touch -- just tracing her fingers along her the skin of her waist -- but the intention behind it sends a ripple of excitement swirling humid and slow. Funneling inward, along with other things. Color that’s been warming in Pearl’s belly has begun to wander, and these gentle new attentions pour it all the faster to places south.
Such a short way to go, but so much to say on the way there.
Rose🌹
Makes it easy for me to get under, too,
nibble your cute bellybutton. ❤
Oh, shit. Biting her lip does nothing to block her groan. Rose’s mouth..
If she pinches her navel, just a little… careful milktooth of her thumbnail... Pearl can almost believe it’s a playful nip from Rose.
Rose🌹
Tell me, did you eat dinner?
She glances at the mini-fridge. A paltry amount had gotten into her before she lost patience... should have gotten something neater than Greek, really. She’d eaten some, though! That should be good enough.
Pearl
Yes, I did!
Rose🌹
Good girl! ❤
Pearl can feel her toes curl in the sheets. She takes her lip in her teeth, pressing -- tries to nibble away the big dumbo smile that’s crawled up her face.
Rose🌹
I feel better about giving you a workout, then. ❤
“Oh, my god.” Pearl covers her palm over her face for just a moment.
Rose🌹
We’re gonna play under your shirt, a little more.
I want you to stroke your left hand allllll over.
Pet and press, pinch and touch...
Your back, too, if you can reach. Don’t strain. ❤
I want you to make love to the skin, there.
It… sounds a little silly. A little goofy, if she’s honest, and a tangle of self-consciousness threatens to knot in the honey-gold melt that’s been pooling.
She obeys, though: shudders a shaky sigh, and begins to trace with fingertips… to graze with nails… to cup the tender divots where her hips begin.
Rose🌹
You’re sensitive all over, Pearl.
You feel so much.
I love it.
She loves it. Pearl swallows a mouthful of sound as her long, warm palm pets the gentle ridges of her sides. She loves that I’m sensitive.
Her palm smooths over the flesh, blanketing warmth along her ribs: a place on Pearl that normally feels as cluttered and harsh a birdcage. But now -- lying here, warm and wanting -- Pearl can feel how quietly the ribs curve… how they relax, how they shift, and how they gentle themselves: shaping room for her lungs as she breathes... how they quilt into each other, perfect, like soft plates of armor...
Rose🌹
When you’re overwhelmed, you arch up off the bed,
and your waist twists, slow… so beautiful.
Muscled so neatly.
Skin soft… so lovely.
It holds your freckles and scars,
it holds your heat and your pleasure.
So gorgeous, Pearl.
Your skin invites my lips to play.
Rose’s lips. Kissing: dragging soft: sucking hard.
Sound fills her mouth and this time she cannot swallow: Pearl moans.
Rose🌹
Tell me, feeling okay?
Pearl
YEs .
She hardly notices her sloppier typing. Cares even less.
Rose🌹
You’re doing so well. ❤
Doesn’t it feel nice?
I want you to touch your breasts, next.
Self-consciousness skitters: a green-white mottle on the surface of the glowing-good that's pooling in her hips. God. Pearl shifts in her sheets.
She can almost hear the little cluck in Rose’s throat as she types up her response -- and not because she’s breaking rule number one -- but Pearl can’t help it. All this pillowy-good talk about her body is nice, but... jeez. She’s allowed to be fussy about something.
Pearl
What breasts?
The little bubbled ellipses pops up right away, as though Rose expected something similar.
Rose🌹
*Your* breasts, missy,
the ones that are absolutely perfect for you.
Shame dips her chin. Pearl can hear her disappointment.
Rose🌹
Slight and sweet, and gently rounded,
Soft and sensitive under my tongue.
Like a warm bundle of weight dropped from above, memories of Rose’s mouth on her breasts has Pearl reeling back into the pillow. Soft hands stroking her sides, kneading warmth -- nails teasing trails of golden heat -- while Rose’s plump lips purr heaven around her nipple: sucking and nibbling: laving humid and plush as a half-rain in June. The moscato sigh of “So gorgeous, Pearl,” silking wild and gentle in a way that bewitches Pearl’s tongue too plump and too hot in her mouth -- needing air -- needing room -- needing her lips to part to suck in a gasp to cool it. Rose’s laughter brewing as stunning and thick as opal ore and so perfect when Pearl’s back bows upwards, trembling off the bed: eager to press more of herself into Rose’s renaissance mouth.
The memory thunders her ribs enough to take Pearl’s breath in one clean pull. Her skin hums. Invisible, melting things. Kindle of candied ache, in all her soft places: craving Rose.
Rose.
Rose🌹
And that’s another time you’ve spoken without me asking you to “tell me.”
Keep this up, Pearl,
and I’ll have to start being mean~
Her belly whirls: a little ashamed, but mostly curious. Mostly intrigued. Mostly horribly turned on.
Rose🌹
Oh, don’t worry! ❤❤
It’ll feel the same as me being nice.
It’ll just take much longer to get there. ❤❤
“Oh, god.”
Rose🌹
Tell me, do you understand?
Pearl swallows -- it sticks, a bit. Time to rally herself.
Pearl
Yes .
Rose🌹
Very good. You’re doing so well. ❤
Remember, we can stop the game at any time.
A game. It helped to think of it that way. This is a game. It’s only play.
Does that make me a toy? Devilish things move in her at the thought. An image wriggles to mind before she can snuff it: a ballet studio with Pearl, frozen, her ankle draped along a highbar: Rose’s hands over her hips, sculpting her into proper position: posing her like a doll -- telling her to hold, here -- to relax, there -- fingers pressing in places as she giggles, gorgeous and low: “I said to keep still, but you’re shaking --”
Rose🌹
Your body is beautiful, Pearl.
The bubbled ellipses pops up as Rose continues, but panic pours as Pearl’s phone rings.
Fuck, it’s Amethyst! Fuck!
She rejects the call hurriedly and brings up their conversation to pop her a text -- rejected calls kind of freak Ame out.
Pearl
Sorry, bad time! Don’t worry though. Call tomorrow?
She shouldn’t be surprised, honestly. Amethyst has this kind of timing.
… she also shouldn’t be surprised that her response is almost instant.
🐍AmEcOnDa🐍👺
Holy shit
ur jerking off arentu
Pearl
bAD TIME PLEASE CALL TOMORROW
The pillowcase snickers against her cheek as she turns to bury a groan. That kind of dims the mood, doesn’t it? Pearl doesn’t recover well from surprises. The realization of how she must look right now is drowning out all the melty goodness from before. Maybe they should… try again, another time --
Rose🌹
Your slender waist, and the blue veins under your skin...
The lovely muscles in your belly
that flutter when you come.
-- memory of Rose’s mouth, making love with lips and tongue to the jump and twitch of sinew as her fingers swirled -- as Pearl cried out -- as she came apart --
Heat dollops: plucks her little strings.
More. Keep going. You like this.
Leave it to Rose to prove her wrong. She’s amazed at how easy it is, slipping back into the play: feeling the words settle on her skin. Warming her.
Rose🌹
Your sweet baby blues get this faraway look...
Your pupils get so *big* when you’re excited.
And oh, Pearl...
Your hands.
Clever little things. ❤
Rose adores her hands, Pearl knows. Impossible to forget. More than once she’s straddled Pearl’s hips, and sunk herself onto the curl of them: has taken Pearl’s fingers complete into her own perfect, yielding heat: used them to usher herself to pleasure. Has prized these mystifying sounds from herself, intoxicating little sighs and moans that Pearl wants to wall herself up inside: has licked herself off of Pearl’s fingers (sucked them, smirked around them), one final tease after riding Pearl into a grateful helpless puddle, and Rose: god, Rose: her body giving and taking and gorgeous as an oil painting.
Rose🌹
There’s something I should have asked sooner.
I know you’ve had a hard week, sweet thing, so tell me,
are your fingers okay for this?
Shame wants to bite into Pearl at the question, even with the endearment to soften it. She knows what Rose means. It’s been only been a couple of months since she cradled Pearl in this very bed, in fact, comforting her after a... an episode.
She fights off the feeling of wrongness, though. She can proudly say that she hasn’t dug into her fingers, even with her nerves sizzling evil all week. (There are several disemboweled pens in her backpack, but there’s... hardly any need to mention those.)
Pearl
Yes, they’re fine!
Maybe she answered that too quickly? Too crisp. Too chipper. She rereads it four or five times over before self-consciousness wins out.
Pearl
Would you like a picture of them?
Silly. She feels silly, saying that.
Rose🌹
No, that’s alright!
As long as you’re comfy and happy. ❤
Tell me, do you want to keep going?
Relief pours. She hurriedly begins to type ‘yes, let’s continue’, but… she smiles. Deletes it -- tries again.
Pearl
Please?
Rose🌹
Oh, how polite. 💕
Aren’t you just the sweetest thing?
If she closes her eyes… tips her chin.. she can almost feel Rose’s hand in her hair as she murmurs the praise.
Rose🌹
One more time… let’s get those clever hands under your top.
Feel how you’re made, Pearl.
The way your collarbones angle under your throat…
Where all your sweet little sounds begin.
One hand traces, shaking. Oh, god. Her body winds… she’s squirming, she’s actually squirming under her own touch.
Rose🌹
Feel your breasts, Pearl.
I want you to cup them -- I want you to tease them.
I want you to feel your nipples stiffen under your own touch.
A nervous little laugh. Tucks her lip between her teeth, nibbling. What does it say about me, that they’ve been hard this whole time?
She does as she’s told, though, and can’t fight down a soft moan. Even a tender pinch sends heated pianowire humming straight between her thighs. God. What Pearl really wants is to touch there, but she hasn’t been told to yet. Has to settle for squeezing her thighs together in a squirm -- hikes a gasp at how... how wet she is.
Rose🌹
I want you to use both hands for this, too.
Put your phone to the side, a moment. Take it up when it buzzes again.
I want you to feel how your beautiful body has been *made* for your pleasure.
She places the phone aside. Tempting -- it’s tempting to try and find a way to prop it up, but --
Rose wants me to feel. Pearl’s heels press gently down into the mattress as her palms smooth along her midriff: tracing gentle warmth from hip to collarbone. Rose wants me to touch.
Command performances… that’s what they’re called, if Pearl remembers right. When someone else is in the room. The thought echoes around for a moment as Pearl sighs, and finds herself bowing upward off the bed. A performance for Rose. She traps a nipple between thumb and forefinger and twists: moans at the tumble of pleasure it sends.
If Rose were watching… if Rose were here… her dark and lidded eyes would smile, would approve… She might croon sweet little things to encourage: “Oh, that’s very good… that's lovely... again.”
She tweaks her nipples harder, shivering rich. God. Pearl doesn’t even bother touching her chest when she masturbates, normally. It’s just some inert plane of mass that hardly responds to her. But something about Rose wanting her to feel there… Rose wanting her to touch... it’s transformed her chest into creamy, sensitive flesh: hungry for attention.
The sound of buzzing cuts through her haze, and Pearl flinches -- fumbles -- paws clumsily at her blankets, a moment, before finding her phone again. Sweat has collected on her hands from touching herself, but it… Pearl doesn’t mind.
It’s… she likes it.
Rose🌹
You’re doing so well, Pearl.❤
Tell me, how are you feeling? And is your shirt still on?
Pearl
It’s
Ireally good,. And yes
Rose🌹
I’m glad. ❤
And good -- leave it on.
With the way the fabric has been rubbing against her this whole time… and now with her chest this sensitive… Pearl has an inkling as to why.
Rose🌹
Your shorts, though…
Do away with those.
Her phone almost clatters to the floor in her urgency. Shaking, her hands are shaking, because -- because maybe that meant --
Rose🌹
Panties on, for now.
“Oh, god,” she whimpers, agonized. Torture. This is torture.
Rose🌹
Tell me, and tell me honestly, sweet thing:
How much more do you think you can take?
This is new, and I’m not there to read you.
I don’t want to wear you out too badly. ❤
Mercy. Maybe this means mercy.
Pearl
I r
eally wan t to finish,
Rose🌹
Finish? Finish what?
Merciless. She’s merciless.
Rose teasing -- Rose goading --
Pearl whimpers.
Rose🌹
I bet you’re just trembling to eager little pieces, now.
Do you mean that you want to come?
Pearl
Ye s
Rose🌹
Ask nicely, sweetheart. ❤
Pearl
PLease?.
Rose🌹
Oh no, not to me!
Ask your body. Out loud.
Ask sweetly.
Ask while touching.
“Please let me,” she breathes, stroking her belly -- hip -- dares to skim a finger along the lip of her panties and oh fuck -- “P-please.”
Rose🌹
Please what?
Pearl whines. Rose knows her… Rose knows so well…
Tries to tame her breathing: tries to shape her mouth: says to no one but her own milling, greedy self: spilled with a full-body flush: “Please… l-let me c-come.”
Rose🌹
So cute. You must look so, so cute right now.
Helplessly turned on little mess,
squirming in bed,
begging to come.
-- every inch of skin has grown hyperdelicate and she’s so wet: God, even a faint draft is enough to coax her hips to twitch --
Rose🌹
I planned on teasing you through your panties, too,
but you sound about ready to fall apart, poor thing.
So let’s take off your panties, too. ❤
She scrambles to obey and oh, god, the panties are absolutely drowned. They’re destroyed. No saving these. But she hasn’t the bearings or brain cells for embarrassment -- Pearl flings them aside, not caring where they land.
Rose🌹
Take a deep breath…
… hold it…
… and let it out.
When you get excited, sweet thing,
I sometimes wonder if your chest is going to just... pop right open.
You just feel everything so much.
I love it.
Pearl tries. She really does. Rose seems to have this... asthmatic effect on her.
Rose🌹
Tell me, feeling okay?
She struggles, seriously struggles to type coherently but even still --
Pearl
Yes
Rose🌹
Such a good girl. 💕
(Things tighten, things flutter, and oh please no she can’t come yet --)
Rose🌹
Your body is made for your pleasure, Pearl.
Only cup yourself. Gently.
Don’t touch directly.
Not yet.
She catches her heartbeat in the pleasured panic (that was too close, too close) and weakly moves to shape her palm to… to herself. She’s. So impossibly wet. Just unreal. It’s almost laughable. It is laughable.
Pearl bubbles a watery giggle that tapers off into a gasp when her hand settles. Fuck. Even the light pressure of her palm has a moan rising like heat off of pavement. She’s so... she's so... her hips want to move, want to grind, want to please, but Pearl wills them still with a whimper, because -- because --
Not yet.
Rose🌹
I bet you want nothing more than to rut against your clever little hand.
Your whole body is crying out to just fuck itself, right there.
Isn’t it?
The change in tone -- still Rose’s sweet safeness but it’s coarse --
Rose🌹
Wouldn’t it be awful if I just
didn’t let you?
“Rose --” An agonized moan, this time -- oh god, she would die, Pearl might actually die --
Rose🌹
Imagine if you just
had to stay right there
just like that
until the end of break?
Until I got back and fucked you myself?
Even as she cries out at the thought of waiting (“Please -- please, no --”) Pearl’s whole body purrs for the last part -- Rose taking her in hand and just working her -- hardly touching before Pearl's whole body cinches up like a trap because she -- she’s leaking between her fingers --
Rose🌹
After four days of waiting like this,
I would finally stuff my fingers in your greedy heat
and let you come your pretty little brains out.
Dizzy spill of white threatens to blot out her vision at the thought and Pearl is pouring sound, she’s begging “Please, please, please --”
Rose🌹
But I’m not waiting that long.
She twists her head against her pillow, making these sounds she knows -- weak, animal sounds -- her chin swivels like a dowsing rod as though she could edge herself away from her own body: herself: a livewire of sticking sweet wantwantwant but she’s not allowed to move yet --
Rose🌹
Keep your hand still.
I want you to grind against it -- slow.
It feels so, so good, doesn’t it?
Her hips bridge and her finger slips along her lips and she cries out, loud, and then again, weaker, because everything -- everything is so wet and so full -- slick and plump and hot --
Rose🌹
Flip over, onto your belly. Phone flat on your mattress where you can see.
And spread your knees.
Head down, hips up.
Pearl scrambles. Grinding onto her hand would be so much easier this way, she thinks, before she realizes how liquid her body has become. Her legs are drunk. Everything is trembling, weak with the need to come undone.
And fuck, holy fuck, she’s leaking onto her thighs --
Rose🌹
I can’t get enough of watching those slim hips moving.
Watching them grind and ride my thigh.
Feeling them dance
as I eat you right up.
Oh fuck. Oh, fuck -- Rose eating her -- oh, fuck --
Bottlerocket memory of clinging to Rose’s oak headboard, slick with sweat, rolling her hips again and again into the tender witchcraft of her mouth -- Rose’s hands clutching her ass, pressing her: deeper: pulling her in: purring into her: every coherent thought in Pearl’s brain getting sucked out in a crush of nova color and criminal sweetness through her aching fat c-clit --
Rose🌹
You’re doing so well.
You want to come so, so badly, don’t you?
Not until I say.
"P-please -- R-Rose --”
Rose🌹
I want you to promise your body you’ll take care of it.
I want you to promise me you’ll be gentle with yourself.
Pearl cries out in anguish before she can stop herself. Rose can’t take mercy on her if she can’t hear.
“P-promise,” she can’t shape the rest of the words right there’s no way she could, “P-promise, please --””
Rose🌹
You’re doing such a good job. Keep going.
Oh, it’ll feel so good… almost, sweet thing...
-- already feel it spilling along her spine, shivering warm and bone-meltingly good and oh no she might -- too early -- she --
Rose🌹
Now. ❤
-- hips jerk as her everything curls up and over and in and she cries out and she’s coming hard and oh thank god she didn’t need to be quiet -- she would have bitten clean through her lip trying to stifle herself because she’s coming so coarse and sweet and good she forgets she’s the only one here: no way this is her hand: no way this is her skin alone: this feels like a freighttrain of full-body caramelfuck with every synapse in her brain rutting itself stupid against the next into a glowing gold mess and Pearl, her -- she’s -- she’s trying to make a shape of Rose’s name as her muscles unravel to happy tremble.
Her body is useless, and wonderful, it feels... it... and her brain is flooded with... it... good, it’s so… Pearl just needs… a minute... to…
She comes out of the doze, eventually, and oh goodness. She came so hard she drooled. Pearl wipes her chin, casting another pointlessly guilty look around the room.
Her phone… where?
Still blinking drowse away, she paws at the lump under her sheet --
Rose🌹
Did you fall asleep? ❤️
Goodnight, Pearl. Sweet dreams ❤️ I’ll text you in the morning ❤️❤️❤️ 💋❤️❤️
Rose had sent that last one a little over twenty minutes ago. Pearl feels a tug of guilt. It doesn’t last long, though, before being washed away by the happy sea of dopamine her brain is bobbing around in. Just wants to unspool herself whole, like a spoiled tabby cat: laze for days in a stray sunbeam.
She just... feels so good. She hums aloud, just because she can: just to enjoy the sodapop buzz of herself in her throat, her chest…
Oh: that’s right! Her chest -- she purrs as she pets herself, there, back weakly bowing upwards under her shirt -- offering more creamy, agreeable skin to stroke: sighs at the way her nerves coo against the gentle touch -- oh, Pearl has to give a happy whimper -- she pets her sides, too -- her arms and neck, her tummy and hips, her thighs --
… oh, er. Well... She giggles, nibbling her lip. She can always take another shower.
The thought somehow strikes her as hilarious and Pearl laughs, laughs, and curls on her side: burrowing into her pillow -- breathing in, deep -- hunting for any trace of Rose.
“Rose,” she croons, blotted blurry in the cloth. Feels like she could melt and pour into the bed, and she moans: so glowingly, cuttingly in love, “Roooose.”
She aches so badly to fall asleep nestled into Rose tonight.
Pearl should do something for her. Please Rose, too.
Rose.
Trying not to think too hard about it -- and trying not to drop her phone -- she nuzzles shyly into her pillow in her sweaty, disheveled state... and gazes up into the camera. For Rose.
The false shutter clicks; she wiggles, a little. Studies the picture of herself: Pearl, from the waist up: lips nibbled plump, eyes blown-black and lidded heavy... hair clean, but tousled: oh goodness, that’s cute. Pearl is cute. Her shirt ruffled over her flat belly, with a hint of tan nipple showing. And her skin, just kissed with sweat, flushed in tones of soft peaches and pinks and that look… good.
I look good.
A moment passes as she waits to change her mind. It doesn’t happen, though.
Pearl presses send, and waits.
Rose🌹
Pearl!!!💥💥💥💥
PEARL!!!!!💣💣💥💥💥💥
Pearl I am stuck in polite company for another EIGHT HOURS
You can’t send me sexy little post-o pics of you like thi is! !!!!🎇🎆
She’s laughing and giddy, giddy, her brain’s cherry-warm champagne as she scurries to snap another picture -- on her belly with a shy smile, peeking over her pillow: lip tugging a tease between white teeth.
She presses send again -- and almost immediately --
Rose🌹
Omg you are so BAD, PEARL!!!! 👿👿👿👿
That cute little butt is getting such a swat the minute I get back!!!!💥💥💣💫
She laughs. Full, full, and good. So good.
Still on her belly, she raises her phone camera just a little more -- angling a hint of her bare ass in the corner.
Pearl
This one?
Rose🌹
OOOOO💣💣💣💣💥💥💥OOOhhhhH💥💣💥💥💥💣❗❗❗💢💢HHH
You’re 💣💥💥💣💥💥lucky you’re 💣💥💥💣💥💥💣💣💣so damn CUtE💗💖💖💫💫💥💓
Pearl curls up in bed, laughing: cozy and warm. They text a bit more before Rose insists that Pearl sleep (“you’ve hardly gotten any this week! ! sweet dreams 💋💋❤”)
With Rose back… with Rose… more kissing, and play, and returning the favor however she can -- making Rose feel good, too. The need to please her is tremendous.
Much like… (Pearl risks a thought, taking shape)… like Rose’s need to please me?
Maybe... maybe enough to agree to dinner. Pearl’s treat.