Gideon studies them in the mirror: Harrow's thin, deft hands hot over her strong, callused ones; Harrow's pointy-jawed, dark-browed face that always seems to be one furrow away from frowning in concentration; how she has to curl over Harrow in order to put her chin on Harrow's shoulder. Harrow is all angles and points and she is soft curves of muscle and flesh and it all just works.
Maybe Harrow doesn't see it. It's fine. Gideon can see and appreciate it for her. She slips the hand on Harrow's belly up under her camisole, lays it flat against her soft skin.
She wants more, but she also just wants...this. Whatever it is. Just the two of them here in this crystallized moment. She wants to bury her face, grease paint and all, into the angle between Harrow's shoulder and her neck; she wants to spend ten thousand years making sure Harrow is safe and loved.
She takes a deep breath, and pulls back to grab the cold cream from the counter. "I feel like the Bar is gonna start charging us extra for towels."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
branchandroot
no subject
Date: 2020-11-09 12:57 pm (UTC)Maybe Harrow doesn't see it. It's fine. Gideon can see and appreciate it for her. She slips the hand on Harrow's belly up under her camisole, lays it flat against her soft skin.
She wants more, but she also just wants...this. Whatever it is. Just the two of them here in this crystallized moment. She wants to bury her face, grease paint and all, into the angle between Harrow's shoulder and her neck; she wants to spend ten thousand years making sure Harrow is safe and loved.
She takes a deep breath, and pulls back to grab the cold cream from the counter. "I feel like the Bar is gonna start charging us extra for towels."