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Gideon and Harrow were cuddling again.
It had started to become a habit: Gideon sitting at the headboard of one of the beds in their shared room, her arms loosely around Harrow; Harrow sitting between her legs with whatever tome had caught her attention that day, using Gideon as a backrest. Often they had fallen asleep like that, Gideon first, then Harrow.
The first time they had done it, it was because Harrow couldn’t sleep. The second time was because Gideon had woken up in a separate bed and for a moment felt so horrifyingly alone that (yikes) she had begun to cry. Harrow must have been awoken by it, because a moment later she had appeared like an apparition in the dark. She had crawled into Gideon’s bed, not protesting as Gideon pulled her to her chest.
Since then, they had stopped pretending like they could function without each other.
And so they were cuddling: Gideon with her back to the headboard of Harrow’s bed, one arm wrapped around Harrow’s midsection with her fingers splayed over her ribs, and Harrow rested against her chest without a book in her hands. This last part was a rarity- Harrow always seemed to need some sort of excuse to be leaned up against Gideon for any period of time.
It was getting late, but Gideon wasn’t tired, and though Harrow had nothing to do she didn’t seem close to falling asleep either. When Harrow had first crawled into Gideon’s lap some thirty minutes ago, she had pulled up the dark grey bed sheets to cover both their legs. The covers had ended up pushed down to mid-calf once the air under them had grown sweltering with body heat. Harrow picked absentmindedly at the seams of her baggy trousers, as if lost in thought. Her hair tickled Gideon’s chin.
Harrow breathed steadily in and out, radiating heat like a furnace. She was so small, frail even, and it hit Gideon like a ton of bricks how easy it would be to hurt her. She moved her hand slightly so she wasn’t holding her too tight. Harrow let out a small noise in the back of her throat at the movement. Gideon could feel her ribs against the palm of her hand, and it was all she could do to keep from feeling her up out of sheer curiosity and boredom. She slung her other arm across Harrow's waist as well, her hand hovering over Harrow’s hip.
Gideon's hand was vast in comparison, thick and calloused, and it made her feel like a clumsy giant. Harrow was so easy to break. If not for her skills as a necromancer, she would have been terrifyingly vulnerable under Gideon's fingertips. Harrowhark Nonagesimus had always put up a facade of strength and indestructibility, and Gideon had fallen for it nearly every time. Now, there was no facade, there was only Harrow. Gideon adjusted her hand so it wasn't hovering anymore, soaking in her warmth.
Harrow made another small noise. Affection, sticky and disgusting, rose in Gideon’s chest and she pressed the side of her head against Harrow’s. Harrow didn’t say anything.
She couldn’t believe that she had once wanted Harrow to die, when now all she wanted was to be pressed up against her until the world ended. It was gross. It was embarrassing. She was lucky that she didn’t have to explain herself, because she wouldn’t have been able to. Since when was a skinny stick of a necromancer considered attractive in her book? She didn’t really want the answer to that.
She wiggled behind Harrow, trying to adjust herself in a way that would prevent her from thinking. It was obviously a futile exercise. Shutting off her brain could be achieved by only two means: sleep, and knocking herself out.
“Stop it,” Harrow snapped, a little higher pitched than normal.
“What?”
“You know full well,” Harrow said, although Gideon definitely didn’t.
“Okay,” Gideon said, drawing out the last syllable. She stopped herself from moving, pressing her hands into Harrow’s skin just a fraction. Harrow scooted back so she was sitting on Gideon’s lap rather than between her legs. Gideon was now in the perfect position to press her lips against the sharp edge of Harrow’s jaw, so she did, and then rested her forehead on Harrow’s shoulder.
Harrow was shivering, which made no sense at all considering how warm she was. Gideon exhaled with a soft puff of air, and then all of a sudden Harrow was scrambling up out of her lap.
“I have to- hold on one moment,” Harrow said primly, and she swung her legs off the bed and stood for one tremulous moment before her legs gave out entirely under her.
Gideon cried out in dismay, vaulting off the mattress and rushing to her side. Harrow was already propping herself up against the end of the bed. She fixed Gideon with a steely glare, which Gideon had no idea how she’d earned.
“What’s wrong?” Gideon demanded.
“Nothing, Griddle,” Harrow said, and something must have been wrong because she only called her Griddle when she was emotional or panicking. It was Gideon and Nav more often than not, now.
“Have you eaten enough?”
“Yes.”
“Three full meals?”
“Yes.”
“How about water?” Gideon reached out to physically examine her, dragging her hands down Harrow’s legs to make sure she hadn’t spontaneously broken them. Considering her physique, it wasn’t impossible.
Harrow slapped at her hands. “Stop touching me, idiot, you’re making it worse,” she snapped. She was blushing . Her hips shifted as if she were uncomfortable. She was definitely blushing.
Gideon went through a whole-ass journey. First, mild confusion. Then her blood turned to ice in her veins, cold white fire that turned into prickly heat. Warmth flooded her cheeks. She stared at Harrow with open astonishment.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Harrow said, and by the way she had said it Gideon knew (for once in her life) that she’d interpreted the situation correctly.
“Harrowhark Nonagesimus,” Gideon said, a smug note creeping into her voice, “am I turning you on?”
“Don’t be crass.” Harrow wasn’t looking at her.
“Your legs gave out,” Gideon said, then repeated, “Your legs gave out . I wasn’t even trying, and they gave out .”
“It’s humiliating,” Harrow said, staring right through her.
“Why?”
“Because I can’t control it.”
“Your legs? Yeah, I can see that."
“Nav,” Harrow pleaded, and she sounded more than a little desperate. Gideon almost felt bad.
“Fine, okay, whatever, I’m attracted to you too so I guess we can be humiliated together. Happy?” Gideon stood and offered Harrow a hand, and Harrow took it.
Her legs were still shaking when Gideon pulled her up to stand. There was a moment where Harrow simply stared up at her, face carefully guarded. Gideon, on impulse, reached out to brush her fingers against Harrow’s cheek. Harrow flinched.
Whatever. Sucks to be Harrow. Gideon pulled her hand back as quickly as she could and turned away like it hadn’t happened, crawling up onto the bed and getting back into position. She patted the space between her legs.
“Gideon-” Harrow cut herself off, her lips twisting. Gideon knew that face. She was trying to pretend like she wasn’t self-conscious, which was stupid.
“So you’re turned on in my presence. Might as well take advantage of it, don’t you think, my lugubrious lady?”
“Fuck you, Nav,” Harrow muttered, but the corner of her mouth quirked into something that looked suspiciously like a smile. She pulled herself up onto the bed and against Gideon. This time Gideon was far too aware of how Harrow’s back was pressed up against her tits, especially since she had taken off her bra before getting into bed. She felt horribly itchy all over. Her hands were shaking almost imperceptibly as she rested them back on Harrow’s ribcage.
Harrow, unlike Gideon, seemed to have no problem breathing evenly. She adjusted her hips so they were pressed flush against Gideon’s, and Gideon felt heat rush to her core. This was a very bad idea.
“Do you want me to try?” Gideon said.
“What?”
“You got all hot and bothered without me trying. Do you want me to try?”
She felt Harrow grow rigid in her arms, and her stomach sank in anticipation of Harrow’s answer. “As in- get me off?” Harrow said, her voice shrill.
“Nah, just touch you,” Gideon said, trying to force bravado into her voice. “I mean, unless you want-”
“No,” Harrow interrupted, but the word was rather quiet.
“Okay,” Gideon said. “That’s fine.”
They sat like that, very still, for a long moment.
“You can ,” Harrow said slowly, “touch me. If you would like.”
“Not if you don’t want me to.”
“For Heaven’s sake,” Harrow said. “Do I really have to say it?”
“Yes, you really have to say it,” Gideon said, slightly annoyed. “You think I’m going to do anything if you don’t want it?”
“Fine,” Harrow said sharply. “Fine. Gideon, touch me, I want it.”
Gideon was very wet. Gideon was wet before she said that, and even more wet afterwards, and it was all because of the confirmation that Harrow was actually attracted to her. That was the hottest thing that had ever happened, ever, in the history of the Nine Houses and beyond.
Gideon felt up Harrow’s ribs until she could feel the swell of her tits, then moved a hand to cup one. They were tiny. Truly miniscule. It was nothing like her skin mags, but one touch and Gideon was certain that big boobs were extremely overrated. Harrow’s breast fit under her hand perfectly, and she could feel the nipple begin to pebble and poke into her palm even through the shirt fabric. Harrow wasn’t wearing a bra. She probably didn’t need one, the lucky shit.
Gideon didn’t linger for long, as much as it thrilled her. Harrow’s breath was starting to come out roughly, and Gideon wanted to see if she could make her moan. Gideon moved that hand up to her clavicle, just at the edge of the shirt’s neckline. Gideon traced it with her fingers.
Her other hand slipped under the bottom of Harrow’s shirt, causing Harrow’s hand to fly to Gideon’s thigh and squeeze. Gideon let out an embarrassing huff of breath. Her underwear was sticking to her uncomfortably.
Harrow’s hip was bony as fuck and seemed so fragile that Gideon could crush it if she grabbed too hard. She stroked her thumb over the top of her pelvis and touched her neck. When her hand made contact with Harrow’s neck, Harrow’s head fell back against her shoulder.
Gideon chuckled.
Harrow wheezed.
“You good, my lady?”
“You may continue,” she said. Her voice was high and thin, clearly fighting to keep control. Gideon liked to think she was winning.
Gideon mouthed at Harrow’s neck, just below her ear. She was pleased beyond belief to hear a small whine, and it inspired her to press her tongue gently against her skin. Harrow tasted like iron and salt.
“That’s disgusting,” Harrow said breathily.
Gideon, ever the little shit, did it again.
With the hand that wasn’t clutching Gideon’s leg like a lifeline, Harrow reached up to grip Gideon’s hair. Oh no. That was incredibly hot. Gideon felt the pull in her core, and her hips rocked unbidden against Harrow. Harrow made a small noise and tugged harder, and Gideon stifled a moan.
Gideon kissed Harrow’s neck, and when her teeth accidentally connected with her skin, Harrow’s fist in her hair became borderline painful. Her hand on her thigh dug in like a weapon.
“Ease up a little,” Gideon said.
Harrow let go of Gideon entirely, moving both hands to her legs instead, and Gideon let out a disappointed exhale at the loss of contact. She felt Harrow go stiff, and looked closer to see that Harrow was digging her nails into her own thighs. That couldn’t have been comfortable.
“Stop that,” Gideon said. She took her hands off Harrow in order to grab her hands and place them back on her thighs. It was a shame the hand in her hair was gone, but whatever. “Are you enjoying this or not?”
“Use your teeth on my neck again,” Harrow said, bossy as all hell, which was also kind of hot.
Gideon did so, and Harrow pressed down on her thighs and leaned back into Gideon so hard that Gideon was sure if it weren’t for the headboard she would’ve fallen over. That was saying something, considering how ludicrously feeble Harrow was.
She kissed and nipped down the narrow column of her neck, and Harrow cried out. Haughty, stoic Harrow, and she cried out- so Gideon repeated the motion, and Harrow repeated the sound, and Gideon continued to draw the noises out of her until Harrow turned her head and grabbed Gideon’s hair and pulled her into a kiss.
For a solid three seconds Gideon’s brain refused to process what was happening. Then she put a hand on Harrow’s jaw and kissed back.
It was a mess at first. Their lips didn't slot together neatly, and Harrow honestly had no idea what she was doing. Gideon tilted her head to one side and took Harrow’s chapped bottom lip between hers. Harrow readjusted too, and then her tongue darted out against Gideon’s lip and oh damn, okay, that wasn’t too bad. Pretty sweet, actually.
Harrow swung around so she could straddle Gideon’s hips, and her weight was less than negligible. A flake of dead skin hanging off Harrow's lip scraped at Gideon's lip. Gideon put one hand at the base of Harrow’s spine, just above her ass (what ass though) and pulled her slightly closer. Harrow’s hips stuttered and she broke the kiss.
Gideon let her pull back, unsure if she had crossed a boundary. Harrow stared at her, dark eyes glittering like the wing cases of a beetle.
Gideon didn’t speak. She didn’t trust herself to.
Harrow said, “I want to touch you.”
Gideon said, with considerably less composure, “Fucking knock yourself out please, oh fuck.”
Gideon’s shirt was tucked into her trousers at the front, and Harrow tugged it free before slipping her hands under to feel up her abdomen. Her hands were as warm as the rest of her. Gideon almost choked on her own saliva when Harrow’s hands reached her tits.
“Yes,” Gideon forced out, when Harrow hesitated. “Please.”
Harrow’s hands were boney and small and Gideon’s tits were definitely not small, but when Harrow held them in her hands size really did not matter at all. Gideon’s head slammed back into the headboard, which- ouch- but in the next instant Harrow’s thumbs brushed over her nipples and the ache in the back of her head was the last thing on her mind. It was fucking stupendous, and Gideon fisted her hands in the sheets so she didn't do something reckless like put them over Harrow's hands.
Harrow in her lap, brow furrowed in concentration as she felt her up, was too pretty an image to handle. Gideon closed her eyes and failed to hold back a moan.
“You’re quite sensitive,” Harrow noted.
“Fucking- I know,” Gideon said, utterly broken.
Harrow leaned forward and pressed her lips against Gideon’s neck, still tracing around Gideon’s nipples with her thumbs. Her body pinned her hands there, and the increase in pressure was all but maddening. Gideon was sure she had never been so overwhelmed by pleasure in her entire life. Harrow’s lips dragged over her skin in a way that had Gideon seeing stars, and Gideon-
“Wait,” Gideon croaked.
Harrow drew back, settling her hands on Gideon’s stomach. Gideon caught her breath, which was a considerable feat, and looked at Harrow. She looked at Harrow’s pointy chin, and pointy nose, and all the sharp edges of her jaw and shoulder and collarbone- and the eyes like twin voids, and the holes in her ears where the bone studs went-
While Harrow was certainly not pretty in any conventional sense of the word, she was the most beautiful person that Gideon had ever seen.
“You look-” Gideon began to say, and Harrow went stiff. “You look beautiful.”
“Don’t say that,” Harrow said flatly. “Why are you saying that?”
“I don’t know,” Gideon said, because she didn’t. She might have been enamoured by Harrow before, but she’d never said anything about it.
“Stop it,” Harrow said.
Gideon reached out to play with the stray ends of Harrow’s hair, which were just long enough to curl over the tops of her ears. Then she pressed the palm of her hand flat against Harrow’s cheek. Harrow, for some reason, looked mortified.
“Stop,” she said softly.
Gideon pulled her hand away, frozen with the sudden realization that Harrow might want to call this off and go to sleep in their individual beds. “Stop what?”
“Why are you being so-” Harrow bit off her own words, and looked frustrated with her inability to complete the sentence.
Gideon’s heart was still pounding between her legs, and just seeing Harrow’s face was doing awful things to her insides, but she somehow managed to keep her voice from sounding too pitiful. “What, respectful? Would you rather I ask to fingerbang you? Because I totally can, just say the words.”
Harrow did not respond, although her face clearly read I absolutely do not want that, you disgust me. She turned around and sat back against Gideon, and Gideon, hands trembling, held her tightly. Arousal burned inside her, but she pretended it didn’t. She was pretty good at that- practice makes perfect.
“Maybe I’m just tired of pretending like you aren’t everything to me,” Gideon said, as if keeping her tone neutral could remove the vulnerability inherent to the statement. She couldn’t see Harrow’s face, which frightened her.
“Must we speak of this now?”
“Course not,” Gideon said, too quickly. She took a moment before saying anything more, steadying her breath so Harrow wouldn’t realize how scared she was. “Do you still want me to touch you?”
“I think-” Harrow paused, and when she spoke again it was very intentional. “I think I want your hand between my legs.”
Gideon let out a noisy exhale which was probably closer to a moan and slipped both hands down to Harrow’s hips. She pushed on Harrow’s inner thigh, gently spreading her legs, and didn’t do much more than that. She drew her hand up and down her thigh, fully intending to make Harrow beg. What else was she supposed to do? She’d never done anything like this this before, and if she were being entirely honest, she was freaking the fuck out. Her heart was pounding out of her chest. Her mouth was drier than she could ever remember it being. She swallowed.
It was rather hard to move her hand smoothly over the loose fabric of Harrow’s trousers, as it kept bunching, so she let her palms settle on Harrow’s legs. She stroked patterns with her thumbs. She waited for Harrow’s instruction.
“This is not what I meant,” Harrow snarled, and she grabbed Gideon’s hand and moved it up.
All thoughts of making Harrow beg went out of her mind as she made contact with Harrow through her clothes. She went out of her mind. Harrow’s trousers were damp even through all the layers, and when she touched her there, Harrow's whole body went taut. Gideon’s jaw dropped slightly in awe as Harrow’s body answered to her touch. She forced her fingers to move, to stroke Harrow languidly through the fabric, and Harrow struggled for breath.
“Now who’s ‘quite sensitive’?” Gideon teased- finally regaining her confidence- but Harrow was silent, her mouth open and desperately drawing in air.
Gideon could see the side of Harrow’s face, but not her eyes. Still, it was the most magnificent sight she had ever beheld. She considered, marveling that she was allowed to consider, how Harrow might react if Gideon touched her directly. At this thought, she took her hand away- deeply gratified by the high-pitched whine that Harrow emitted at the loss- and dipped her fingertips under Harrow’s waistband.
“With your permission?”
Still seemingly speechless, Harrow simply pushed Gideon’s hand under her trousers. It took Gideon a moment to find her bearings considering just how slick Harrow was, and just how giddy she was, but then she found Harrow’s folds and dragged her fingers up to her clit. Holy shit.
“Nav,” Harrow breathed, and Gideon was pretty sure she could’ve come in her trousers just from that.
Gideon’s free hand left Harrow’s thigh to slip back under her shirt and fondle her perfect, microscopic tits, and she put her mouth to work at her neck. She scraped her teeth softly against the skin there, beginning to understand how much it worked her up and lightheaded with the knowledge that she held that insight.
As Gideon rubbed circles around her clit, Harrow gasped like something dying. Her hips rolled against Gideon’s hand, and she grasped at Gideon’s hair to hold her against her neck. Gideon’s teeth left marks without much effort, in varying shades of pink and red.
“You bruise so easily,” Gideon mumbled against her skin, and Harrow probably hated that, but she was far gone enough that she didn’t say anything. “If I had known this is all it takes to get you to shut up…”
“Please,” Harrow begged.
Gideon was dizzy with power. “Please what?”
Harrow didn’t respond, perhaps humiliated that she had lost her composure to the degree that she was asking Gideon Nav of all people for sex. Or maybe she was just too overwhelmed to speak, because this may have been Gideon’s first time but apparently she was pretty good at it. It was definitely going to her head.
“Your fingers,” Harrow said, her voice still holding onto her last, tiny shred of dignity. The next words came out in a desperate rush that eviscerated it. “Put them inside me.”
Gideon wasn’t sure about that, because that seemed kinda fancy, but it wasn’t like she hadn’t fingered herself and this was the same angle, right? She slipped a finger inside. The breath left Harrow's lungs in a noiseless exhale and didn't return for just a moment too long. At the third stroke of Gideon’s finger, she finally inhaled: her chest rose like a resurrection.
“Another,” she gasped.
It was extremely hot, but again Gideon wasn’t sure, because that was kind of a lot right? Like, Harrow was very small? She added a second finger, slowly, wary of hurting her, but Harrow’s cunt turned out to be very accommodating. Harrow’s right hand left Gideon’s thigh and flew to Harrow’s mouth, which wasn’t what Gideon wanted at all.
“Hey,” Gideon said. “Don’t muffle yourself. Don’t you dare.”
“Fuck you,” Harrow said, her hand falling away.
“You first, babe,” Gideon said, dragging her fingers inside Harrow and getting an undignified squawk in response. Warmth bloomed in her chest when Harrow’s immediate response was to put her hand back on Gideon’s thigh, her nails digging into the skin through her trousers. It was a little painful, but the pain was starting to grow into something a lot more pleasant.
Harrow’s skinny thighs began to shake, at first subtly, then violently. Gideon wasn’t entirely sure if this was her coming, but if she was, it didn’t seem to be letting up, so Gideon kept dragging her fingers inside her and grinding her palm against her clit. Harrow’s breath kept catching in her throat and releasing with a sharp noise, and the hand still wound through Gideon’s hair was shaking. Gideon was incredibly grateful for her arm's stamina.
“Gideon,” Harrow moaned. Gideon tried to keep herself from whimpering at the sound. She honestly wasn’t sure if she succeeded.
Finally Harrow’s legs stopped shaking, although they still trembled somewhat, and then she was pushing impatiently at Gideon’s hand. Just in time- her hand was starting to cramp.
“Stop,” Harrow said. “Stop- shit.”
Gideon had stopped the instant Harrow had touched her hand, but Harrow seemed to be going through something, so Gideon stayed quiet. There was, blissfully, absolutely nothing going on in Gideon’s brain- except replays of what Harrow looked like from behind as she came, which did nothing to help her recover her mental faculties.
She wiped her hand off on her own trousers, which she thought was considerate, and relaxed backward. Harrow continued to use her as a backrest. Gideon was still shaking a little, possibly from adrenaline. Having Harrow this responsive to her, borderline amenable, was a hell of a rush.
Gideon was also soaking wet, which she had managed to ignore well enough when Harrow held all her focus, but which now called her attention. Ordinarily, this is when she’d put a hand down her trousers and rub one out, but Harrow was here and sitting in her lap in a way that made reaching down impossible even if they hadn’t been fully clothed.
The last time Gideon had seen Harrow in the nude, Gideon had been dying and in no fit state to appreciate it, although at the time she had thought Harrow hideously ugly and also quite evil. Both of those things were wrong, although the latter might still have some grain of truth to it. Remained to be seen. The point was, Gideon had a post-orgasm Harrow sitting in her lap and yet they were still both fully clothed. That was a damned tragedy.
“I want to see you,” Gideon said.
Harrow turned toward her just enough that Gideon could see the side of her face. It gave nothing away. “You don't.”
“I do,” Gideon said, almost surprised by how true it was. “Holy shit, I do.”
“My body is a collection of right angles and I’m more anemic than a skeleton and my chest is as flat as a board,” Harrow said.
Gideon put her hands over Harrow’s chest, under her shirt, and said, “Fuck, I love your tits.”
Harrow didn't react, not to the touch nor to the words. She barely even blinked. She held herself very, very still. It was unnerving, and also a tad worrying. Gideon lowered her hands to Harrow's stomach, which was warm and not a danger zone.
“Okay, you might have some issues you need to work out,” Gideon conceded. “Consider this: I am desperately horny and I will literally do whatever you want, forever, if you get me off.”
“Consider that contracts made under duress are not binding,” Harrow said. She had already begun to relax.
“Sure. Consider that I am willing and able to masturbate in front of you.”
Harrow looked over her shoulder at her and fixed her with a stare that she couldn't interpret. “Fine,” she said at last. “Take off your trousers. And your shirt, if you so desire.”
“You're sitting on my legs, my sable monarch.”
Harrow moved forward off her lap, and to Gideon’s glee, her legs were still visibly shaky. Gideon kicked off her trousers and her underwear before pulling her shirt over her head and tossing it to the side. It landed somewhere on the floor. Gideon's body hummed with all-consuming arousal, which was almost enough to ease her self-consciousness about being fully naked in front of Harrowhark Nonagesimus.
Harrow still wasn't moving. Her legs were folded beneath her, and her hands were folded meticulously in her lap.
“Harrow,” Gideon said pathetically.
“You said you were willing to masturbate in front of me,” Harrow said. “Well, go on.”
For a moment Gideon wondered if it was a cruel trick. Then she thought, of course it is. Harrow got off on control, right? She probably liked to see Gideon squirm. Might as well make a show of it.
Gideon reached for her breasts first, closing her eyes so that she couldn’t see Harrow watching her.
“No,” Harrow said sharply. “Look at me.”
Gideon opened her eyes, almost unwilling. Harrow was sitting there, still shrouded in black, her eyes riveted on Gideon with an intensity that was only mildly terrifying. It took all of Gideon’s effort to keep her eyes open and focused on Harrow’s face. She rubbed at her tits in the steady, predictable way that usually had her gasping for breath, but this time she held back the noises because doing that? In front of Harrow? Mortifying.
Gideon reached down with one hand, still groping herself with the other, and parted her legs to accommodate her fingers. Harrow wasn’t looking at Gideon’s face anymore, or her tits; her attention was instead fixed on the way Gideon’s fingers began to circle her clit. Her eyes furrowed slightly as if in concentration. A light flush had risen on her cheeks.
Gideon failed to repress a moan as she started getting into a rhythm, and Harrow’s cheeks darkened considerably. Gideon closed her eyes for a moment, trying to block out the excess stimulus of the lights and of- of Harrow.
“Gideon,” Harrow said placidly, and Gideon whimpered. “Don’t be quiet.”
Well. As humiliating as it was to show this sort of vulnerability in front of Harrow it was also getting considerably harder to restrain herself, so why bother? She opened her eyes and let herself give in to the moans that she had been holding back. There were a lot of them. “Harrow- Harrowhark- you fucking get off on watching?” Gideon said between gasps, drawing her fingers up roughly on the last word.
Harrow didn’t say anything, but her eyes were flicking between Gideon’s fingers, the one hand on her tits, and her mouth. She was biting at her bottom lip, worrying at the loose scrap of skin there. Gideon saw just a tiny smear of red.
“Apparently,” Gideon said, at Harrow’s lack of response, “I get off on you- oh, fuck, fuck- watching, so this is-”
Gideon couldn’t actually finish her last word, because she could feel the beginnings of an orgasm starting to build and honestly, finishing a sentence was not on her list of priorities at the moment. Her eyes shut tightly, and her fingers slowed so that she could maybe draw it out. This was meant to be a show, after all.
She heard Harrow shifting, and she opened her eyes just in time to see Harrow crawling forward. “Stop,” Harrow said, and as much as it pained her Gideon did.
Harrow took Gideon’s hand- her wet hand- in her own, then pressed a kiss to her palm, right below her index and middle fingers. Gideon stopped breathing. Harrow pulled away for a moment. She looked at her hand, then at Gideon’s slack-jawed, wide-eyed face, and after a brief pause took the tips of Gideon’s fingers into her mouth.
Gideon gasped softly, her eyes going even wider. Her skin mags had informed her this was something people did, but she had always envisioned some buxom blonde or busty brunette or something. Not Harrow. Harrow was all sharp angles and edges and her tongue was no exception, but putting it to use like this- it was all Gideon could do to keep from closing her eyes and begging Harrow to put her mouth somewhere else, because it was heinously suggestive and it made her head swim.
Harrow drew her tongue between Gideon’s fingers, separating them, and Gideon whimpered quietly. Then Harrow’s mouth left her fingers, and Gideon opened her legs just a bit further in the hopes that Harrow would actually do something about her predicament. Harrow's lip curled for a moment, and she licked her bottom lip. Gideon wondered if she really tasted that bad.
Then Harrow moved in closer, and did something that threw Gideon off even more than sucking her fingers had: she put her mouth on Gideon’s nipple.
Harrow’s mouth was hot and wet and her tongue was even hotter, and she pressed it flat against Gideon’s nipple and dragged it upwards. She made eye contact with Gideon as she did, and Gideon felt like she was melting, or maybe like her soul had entirely disconnected from her body (again). It was entirely pleasant, but also entirely overwhelming. Gideon was shaking, and moaning so continuously that she would’ve been embarrassed if she hadn’t lost the ability to feel that emotion the instant Harrow had licked her fingers.
Harrow kept her mouth there- maybe it was five seconds, maybe five minutes, Gideon had entirely lost the ability to count- before drawing back and kissing her instead on the mouth. Gideon reached out to fist her hands in Harrow’s shirt. Her hands still shook. Harrow’s mouth tasted a bit like blood, and it really shouldn’t have been a turn-on, but whatever. Gideon had no more excuses for how she reacted to Harrow.
Harrow's lips left hers, leaning forward to press their bodies more closely together, and Gideon was forced to release her shirt. She moved her hands to Harrow's bony shoulders, feeling the movement of her shoulder blades as Harrow kissed down her neck, across her collarbone, down her sternum, to the soft skin of her stomach. Gideon might have flexed her abs a bit. Harrow scraped her teeth over the definition of her muscles, and Gideon whined. Harrow didn’t spend long there, although she definitely should’ve because Gideon’s abs deserved the praise. Instead, Harrow licked her hip- like, just straight up licked it, nothing sexy about it- and then pressed her lips to Gideon’s inner thigh.
Okay, Gideon would give it to her, that was firmly back in 'sexy' territory. Gideon yelped, and she felt Harrow’s lips curve into a smile. “Please, please, please, please, please,” Gideon babbled, and for once in her life Harrow listened to her.
When Harrow put her mouth on her, it was nothing less than absolute hell. She licked into Gideon's folds delicately, completely avoiding her clit. Gideon was dripping wet but what Harrow was providing was less than relief- it would’ve been better if she had just let her get herself off.
“Harrow,” Gideon said, with some effort. “Do you know- what a clitoris is?”
Harrow looked at her, rolled her eyes, and moved her mouth up to where Gideon wanted it.
Evidently Harrow very much knew what a clitoris was, and was now endeavouring to prove it. All Gideon could say to that was “Holy fuck. Oh damn. Holy shit. Oh fuck, all the Nine fucking Houses, fuck . Oh my God-”
Harrow pulled back for a moment and Gideon could have wept, or simply died. A spasm went through her body as she reacted to the loss, but all Harrow said was, “For goodness sake, Griddle, don't bring His name into this,” and then dove right back in.
Gideon managed to corral her ridiculously overstimulated brain into a safe, non-offensive stream of “fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-” which was a massive accomplishment. Harrow's tongue was as skilled at this as it was at slinging insults and with her last shreds of sanity Gideon thought she must have branched out from skeleton anatomy or something oh fuck-
At some point Gideon had no more fucks to give and the only thing coming out of her mouth was embarrassingly high-pitched mewling which she couldn't seem to stop. She attempted to avoid rocking against Harrow's face, because breaking her nose would likely be outrageously easy. She mostly succeeded.
Her brain fully shut off.
Tension built and crested and escaped like pressure from an airlock, and Gideon let herself be blown out into space. She closed her eyes and went uncharacteristically quiet, her breath leaving in an unsteady exhale through gently parted lips. Suddenly oversensitive, Gideon pushed Harrow's head away. Her eyelids were heavy and she was loath to open them, so she didn't. The sound of Harrow's body shifting on the bed met her ears.
Gideon could feel a thin sheen of sweat on her brow. She reached up to run her fingers through her floppy hair and push it to one side before exhaling slowly. Opening her eyes at last, she met the gaze of Harrow, who was enough of a creep that she probably hadn't stopped staring at her since she finished her off. Apparently not one for post-coital cuddling, she now sat between her legs, facing her. Gideon could see hickies forming on her neck.
“That was so hot,” Gideon said, having gotten her breath back.
Harrow didn't say anything, but she was still inspecting Gideon's body as if she were studying for some anatomy-of-Gideon test. She shouldn't have had to study; she had already aced it.
“Wanna hold hands?”
Harrow's lips twisted, but Gideon was pretty sure it was amusement rather than disgust. “What I want,” Harrow said, “is mouthwash.”
There were so many endorphins flooding Gideon’s system that nothing Harrow could have said would have ruined her mood. “If it was that bad you would’ve stopped,” she said triumphantly.
Harrow didn't blink. “Perhaps,” she admitted.
“Quit the bullshit,” Gideon said. “At least tell me if it was good for you too.”
“Gideon,” Harrow said patiently. “I'm reasonably certain that you brought me to orgasm upwards of three times, in succession.”
Gideon genuinely did not know what to say as her ego swelled to two times its usual size. Maybe three. “So, terrible then,” Gideon said.
“Griddle,” Harrow said.
“The hell do you mean, reasonably certain? I know I wasn't so good you lost your ability to count, Nonagesimus.”
“Well,” Harrow said, rubbing the first metacarpal of her right hand with her thumb, “What would... qualify as an orgasm… is, thus far, conjecture.”
Gideon stared at her blankly. “What.”
“I have been forced to make assumptions.”
“You-”
“Have never gotten myself off, Griddle,” Harrow snapped, in perfect shrill clarity. She was beginning to flush, a faint pink that travelled all the way from her forehead to under the collar of her shirt. Gideon wanted to feel that flush with her lips.
“Oh damn,” Gideon said softly. Harrow's face grew even redder. “Oh damn.”
“Don't look at me like that,” Harrow said weakly.
“And here I thought we were on the same level,” Gideon said. “Turns out you're even more of a repressed virgin. Two decades and zero orgasms? No wonder you’ve got such a stick up your butt.” There was no real animosity to the words.
Harrow’s response sounded somewhat defensive, but mostly it just sounded vulnerable. “Must you always-”
“We’re going to be talking about that later,” Gideon interrupted. “My brain is too fried to do it now. Well done. Congrats.”
“Are you-”
Gideon yanked Harrow forward with her shirt and pulled her into a kiss so hard that she could taste blood again. Harrow bit her lip sharply in retaliation, which definitely didn't have the desired effect because Gideon enjoyed it thoroughly. Harrow broke the kiss for long enough to crawl back into her lap and cradle her jaw with both her hands. It was an unusually tender gesture.
Harrow ruined it by angling her sharp chin forward and looking alarmingly contemptuous. “You're getting your… fluids on my trousers,” Harrow said.
“You can clean them later,” Gideon said flatly, and kissed her again.