incompatible

by ThunderAndYearning

Chapter 3: Part III

Summary:

Time to talk.

 

*

 

“Fine," Harrow finally agrees softly, and unsure. She's looking at her hands, forever fidgeting in her lap.

Gideon has the strongest impulse of leaning towards her and holding them, just to stop Harrow from picking at her cuticles over and over. She doesn't, of course, that would be fucking insane to do.

"Any chance you have an umbrella in here?" Gideon asks instead, looking at the torrential rain hitting heavily on the windows.

Harrow stops and looks outside as if it's the first time she notices the rain: Gideon's building door is not too far away from the car, maybe twenty metres from where they're parked now. Still, if the rain doesn't let up soon, that's enough distance to get them both drenched.

"Never would've thought you'd be afraid of getting a bit wet, Griddle."

Gideon chortles, unexpectedly. "Since when have you got jokes, Nonagesimus?"

She scoffs, gathering her keys from the ignition.

 

Gideon thinks for one second before making up her mind: she exits the car, rain drenching her hair in a couple of seconds it takes her to shut the door behind her back. She runs around the car, right in time for Harrow to open her door.

It's instinctive, when she opens up her jacket and hugs Harrow’s head under her arm to protect her a minimal amount against the downpour. She surrounds her slim, bony shoulders with her fleece-lined jacket, then with a steady grip, she hugs Harrow close to her chest and starts walking to the entrance.

It takes them less than a minute to reach the main door, thank God, but Gideon can feel how every inch of her body is now dripping water, from the very tip of her hair, down her back, past her boxer briefs, and down again to her shoes.

Harrow, walking stiffly beneath her arm, is faring slightly better, yet not by much. Her short curls are wet and plastered to her forehead, her greyish hoodie is now darker and heavier with water, and her boots make a fun squishy sound at every step.

 

Once they’re under the building, slightly more sheltered, Gideon gives Harrow some more room, struggling to grab her keys from her drenched pockets.

There seems to be an unspoken rule between the two as they walk to the elevator, where they both agree not to look at each other’s state.

The elevator ride to the 9th floor is…tense, one would say. They don’t talk all the way up: the only noise keeping them company is the sound of water dripping from their clothes to the elevator floor.

Gideon has been living in the same apartment for a couple of years, and she never realised until now how fucking long the stupid elevator takes, goddamnit. And since when is it that fucking bright, anyway? The neon lights make them look like cadavers found floating in the river nearby.

It's normal to rethink all her decisions until now, correct? It's a normal thing to do when you are drenched in rainwater, under blinding neon lights, standing awkwardly next to the one person that's always been at the forefront of your brain, right?

Gideon surely hopes so...

 

The loud 'ding' once they reach the floor makes them both jump.

If Gideon had to describe her apartment in one word, it would be hers.

As a person, she never had many possessions, to begin with: few pieces of clothing (mostly jeans, or sweatpants, few shirts, few tank tops, not much else), her gym equipment (including but not only, her weights kit, her pull-up bar, her kettlebells), her comics collection (consisting of 9 comics in total, some more well-loved than others), her aviators (basically on her person at all times, so...not really taking a lot of space).

That's to say, when she started to hunt for an apartment once she graduated, she didn't really think in terms of space.

She needed a place that had a roof, a bed, a kitchen and a bathroom. That's it. What she found had all the necessities, no more, no less, at a decent price.

It took time to make the apartment feel like her home. She never really cared about where she was sleeping before, it never really mattered whether she felt comfortable or not.

She bought a sofa, three months in, second hand, from Cam and Sex Pal: a brown three seater, a little bit damaged on one side. After that, she bought a small coffee table, a TV with a good stereo system, and a console she now used to play online with her cousin every other night.

It started to come together after she repainted the walls, and changed the lights to a warmer shade, rather than the neon white hospital bulbs she started to despise from the very first night in. She discovered a green thumb when her next-door neighbours moved out, and left their plants behind.

So, yeah, when Gideon opens the apartment door, she can feel a weird sensation at the pit of her stomach: there's pride, in showing her place, the thing she spent the last year to upgrade and make hers through and through, and a bit of fear too.

She never invited anyone to see her personal habitat, not when she feels safe and protected behind its walls.

And now, Harrow takes a step into her home, leaving a drenched imprint on the wooden floor.

 

You see, when Gideon closes the door behind their back, something snaps: she’s drenched to the core, shivering under the slight breeze blowing from one of her windows, she’s tense and anxious, and she just wants to drop herself in the shower like a cannonball.

And then there’s Harrow. Right next to her. Pretending very hard not to be shivering like a leaf…

Gideon doesn't waste a second once the door shuts behind her back.

Her hands move fast and steadily, dropping her jacket to the floor with a wet thud, then her t-shirt right next to it, while she toes off her shoes almost stumbling to the floor in the process. There's a sudden intake of breath right next to her when Gideon undoes her belt buckle and unbuttons her jeans.

"Nav!" Harrow turns around abruptly, giving Gideon her back, and clearly feeling uncomfortable at Gideon's undressing.

Gideon blushes, just now realising that maybe dropping her clothes to the floor right away might have been a bad idea.

"Uhm, maybe you—, just stay here, give me one sec. I'll be right back." Then, without thinking, she adds: "Don't leave."  And with that, her  body shaking from anxiety and pent-up energy more than anything else, she rushes off to the bedroom, her bare feet squeaking comically against the floor.

Moving like she's on fire, she finds a clean cropped t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants she bought and shrunk when she washed them one time too many: they'd still look a touch big on Harrow, but better than nothing, she thinks.

She passes by her ensuite bathroom and grabs a clean towel out of the hamper. She takes another two seconds, twirling on herself as if she's missing something, and looking positively dumb at that, before rushing back to Harrow.

She finds her standing exactly where she left her, with the only difference being her hair is now slicked back on her head after Harrow clearly passed her fingers through it.

She looks…shit. fuck. damn.

Harrow shivers visibly, and Gideon is brought back to the living room. Get a grip, Nav.

With two fast strides, she drops the clothes on the sofa and wraps Harrow in the fluffy towel.

“You can change in the bathroom. Just...take a shower, do whatever. It's right there, through the bedroom. There’s more towels in the hamper too.”

She expects Harrow to argue, to say anything, at least.

But she doesn’t.

She squeezes tightly in the towel and grabs the clothes next to her before heading to the bathroom. Without a single word.

Gideon groans, her hair dripping water down her forehead, and a tight knot around her guts.

This is not going well, she thinks.

She starts moving once Harrow shuts the bathroom door. She hangs her jacket to air dry, while everything else gets dumped in the washing machine without much care: she finishes stripping right in front of it, dropping her jeans, sports bra and boxers altogether.

She never felt particularly self-conscious of her body, and since moving in, finally by herself, without any extra people to share spaces with, she kinda adapted to a naked lifestyle in the apartment.

Nonetheless, once all her wet clothes are sorted in the washing machine, she walks barefoot to her bedroom. She can hear the soft pitter-patter of the shower, which encompasses her body with a slowly growing warmth for some reason.

She grabs a pair of fresh underwear, some gym shorts she uses for jogging on Sundays, and a large t-shirt that falls softly on her shoulders.

Her hair leaves some dampness on the neckline, but she feels like a different person once she's in her dry, comfy clothes.

She doesn't know what to do while Harrow is warming up in the shower, so without further ado, she heads back to the living room, mops the wet puddles they left all over the floor. Once done, she opens the kitchen tap and starts to chug water straight from it.

"You look like a dog, Nav," she hears mid-chug, from behind her back. Water travels from her mouth up to her nostrils, as she chokes lightly.

"Jeez!" She says between coughs, "Trying to kill me prematurely, Nonagesimus?"

Gideon can see Harrow shrugging, but once she stops gasping for air, finally regaining the use of her lungs, her head starts dancing in blurry edges.

Harrow stands not too far away, hair wet and slicked back her head: Gideon was right, the sweatpants are big and loose falling slouchy on Harrow’s narrow hips, and the t-shirt is big enough that Gideon can see Harrow’s clavicles for the first time in years. But worst of all, Gideon can see how Harrow must still feel cold when her eyes drop further down, past her pointy clavicles, to her bird chest, where taut nipples show through the material.

Gideon’s mouth dries out in an instant, while Harrow seems to notice Gideon’s wandering gaze, and graces her with the reddest blush on her cheeks.

Fuck. Great move, asshole, Gideon thinks, feeling her own cheeks fire up, and promptly moving her gaze to Harrow’s hands.
Harrow stands not too far away, hair wet and slicked back so Gideon can see her face fully, painfully, shaking a wet bundle of clothes at Gideon’s face.

Gideon is shaken out of dirty, dirty thoughts at the sight of it.

“Gimme, I’ll throw everything in the dryer,” which gives her a couple moments to reconnect her brain to the rest of her body, while Harrow moves further into the apartment, to the full-length window facing the city below.

It’s…awkward, isn’t it?

“What am I doing here, Griddle?” Harrow asks, her voice heavy and unforgiving.

Gideon starts the dryer, and takes a couple of steps to Harrow, resting her hips on the backrest of the sofa. Harrow, giving Gideon her back, seems so far away, even if just a few metres separate them.

“I just need to apologise. Like…properly, I mean,” she starts, noticing a heavy dissent when Harrow shakes her head, slowly.

“I’m—I’m sorry.” Gideon says, keeping her eyes on Harrow’s hunched figure. “Tonight was a clusterfuck, Harrow…it’s my fault. I’m sorry.”

Harrow laughs, sadly.

“I don’t understand, Nav,” she hears a softness in Harrow’s voice. “I know you regret our night together, but…”

“I don’t, Harrow. The only thing I regret is how I couldn’t keep my promises to you.”

Harrow turns around, donning a puzzled look on her face. Gideon is prompted to continue.

“I don’t regret agreeing to your dumbass proposal, Harrow. But—I hurt you. I…I tried, Harrow, but I couldn't make it good for you. I couldn't keep my promises to you, and it ate me alive,” she admits, keeping her voice levelled, but feeling a thunderstorm in her chest.

“You did. You kept your promises, Griddle,” Harrow jumps in, taking a step towards Gideon.

“No. I promised I would see it through, and I ran away as soon as we stopped. That wasn’t alright,” she explains, shaking her head, “and I promised I’d make you feel good. I clearly failed at that.”

“Why would you think that?” Harrow asks, her voice adamant and fretted.

“I hurt you. I had your blood on my fingers, Harrow. There was blood on your bed, and all over my hand.”

Harrow jerks back, giving Gideon the impression this is completely new to Harrow’s ears.

“You don’t remember?”

“It was my first time, Griddle…”

“I’m not saying that bleeding wasn’t normal, Harrow. I could see that you were in pain, okay? I could see it, and I knew I should’ve stopped, but…”

“You promised you’d go through with it,” Harrow seems to understand where her guilt stems from.

“Yeah…and I still fucked up, didn’t I? I run away like a fucking coward the second I had the chance.”

Gideon feels dizzy and nauseous at the mere thought of how that night unravelled.

“Griddle…”

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m just…I’m sorry. I wasn’t good enough, and I hurt you. You should’ve waited for…” Alecto, she thinks, “someone other than me.”

“You are unbelievable…”Harrow takes two steps towards Gideon, now standing right in front of her, while Gideon keeps her hips resting on the back of the sofa. “Are you serious, Nav?”

Gideon keeps her head bent on her chest, shrugging her shoulders, trying to act nonchalant, “It would’ve been better, no?”

“How do I get through your thick skull, Nav?” She asks. “You were the only one. There was no other option but you. You! Who else, Griddle?”

Gideon scoffs, a very distinctive name on the tip of her tongue, burning like a curse.

“You don’t understand, do you?” Harrow asks, taking another step towards Gideon, inching closer and stealing the oxygen from Gideon’s lungs, “You keep thinking I regret you, as if I was scoring your performance on numbers of orgasms you provided me with.”

Gideon swallows, unable to meet Harrow’s eyes, and feeling a blanket of shame cover her entire body. Isn’t that how sex is? She’d like to ask. If I can’t make you feel good, if I can’t do the one thing you asked me to do, what is the fucking point?

“You keep thinking I asked you to be my first because you had experience, and you could give me a good time. Isn’t that right, Nav?” Harrow laughs, a hint of despair in her amusement.

“God, you honestly think I came to you because you were the best piece of meat I could find?” Gideon doesn’t move, not a single inch, when Harrow takes one other step, arms crossed in front of her chest, now standing between Gideon’s bare feet.

“You can be so stupid at times, Gideon Nav.” Gideon raises her head, falling into Harrow’s trap, looking deep into Harrow’s eyes.

“Then why?” She finds herself asking, her voice cracking hoarsely. “Why me, Harrow? I swear, I never understood why you came to me…” when you had her.

“You think I could’ve asked anyone else to touch me? To kiss me?” Harrow asks, “To be inside me?”

A hot spike runs through Gideon’s body, making all her baby hair rise to attention. Harrow must realise what she’s doing, as she continues.

“You were the only one. I never trusted anyone else, Griddle. I said this already, and I’ll keep repeating it until you finally understand: I wanted you. And I had you. I wouldn't have it any other way.”

Harrow stands still, arms crossed, keeping her eyes steady on Gideon’s face.

“I wanted control over my first time, and I chose to have the only person I ever felt—, the only person I ever accepted next to me, to touch me. You were my safety, Griddle. Don’t take that away from me.”

“I’m sorry…” Gideon feels how tight her throat constricts her vocal cords, but she tries. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—, fuck, Harrow, I didn’t mean to ruin your memory of that night. I always thought you…felt the same, about it.”

“No, Nav,” Harrow snaps. “We clearly have different feelings regarding our night together.”

How? Gideon would like to ask. How can you not resent the whole thing, when you could’ve had her instead?

“You wouldn’t change a thing?” She asks instead. You don’t regret a thing? she means.

Harrow stops for one second, her brows furrowed, and her mouth small, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth, “One thing. Yes.”

Gideon’s heart cracks. She nods, her whole body spent, and weak,  as she tries her very best to avoid crumbling to the ground.

Gideon swallows, as she sees Harrow’s lips, full and red from biting them raw, turn up in a bashful smirk.

“I didn’t get to touch you,” What. “If I could go back, Nav, I’d ask you to let me return the favour.”

“Harrow…” she whispers, uncrossing her arms from her chest, and lowering her hands to find Harrow’s hips, left naked by the cropped t-shirt and the low-hanging sweatpants. Her skin feels so soft, and hot, and…Gideon is not ready for the intensity of feelings running through her whole body now. “What ar—?”

Harrow shakes her head, but her hands rise up, grabbing a fistful of Gideon’s t-shirt and forcing Gideon to hunch closer to her.

“I know you wouldn't let me, in hindsight…” Harrow whispers, now keeping her eyes straight to her own hands, clasped around the soft cotton. “But…maybe–, if you knew, back then…how I wanted to—” Harrow mumbles, looking up to Gideon’s face, into amber eyes. She stutters, once her gaze falls on Gideon’s lips. She stops there. Gideon wets her lips without thinking. “How much I wanted to touch you back…Gi—griddle.”

What the fuck.

“Yeah?”

They just stare at each other, maintaining eye contact and Gideon notices that same pull she’d felt every night since their first night together when the urge to kiss Harrow had overcome every single one of her senses. It’s like a warmth aching low in her stomach, sizzling up her spine.

“Yes."

Even then, Gideon is hesitating again, wondering if this is what Harrow wants. But fuck, Gideon wants it so badly she feels blind.

She wants to erase the whole night, and forget all the words said until right now. Now that she’s stroking Harrow’s hips with her thumbs, and Harrow’s breath warms up her neck and chest.

But then Harrow raises her hand to Gideon’s cheek and brushes her thumb over the corner of Gideon’s mouth. Her lips part at the slight touch. Their breathing quickens and their noses bump in the process.

And it’s so fucking endearing that Gideon breaks.

“Harrow…” she mutters, her voice heavy with wants and needs she repressed for so long, “if I kiss you now,” Harrow’s breath hitches, “would you kiss me back?”

Harrow doesn’t reply with words, she leans into her first.

The second their lips touch, Gideon comes alive.

There is no tentativeness to the kiss like there was the very first time, years ago. Harrow presses forward a little, instantly opening up to Gideon, her hand instinctively sliding up to twist in Gideon’s hair. She tastes like peppermint - and fuck, Gideon just wants to breathe her in and taste every inch of her. She wants to swallow her whole.

Apparently, some part of Harrow wants her, too, because her hand leaves Gideon’s hair in favour of her t-shirt, clenching her fingers around the hem of it, before sliding beneath the cotton and over the bare skin of Gideon’s back. She shivers.

Fuck. Okay. This is happening.

It feels goddamn amazing, Harrow’s fingertips tracing the ridges of her spine, so carefully, as if to count one by one. But not quite as amazing as Harrow’s tongue darting into her mouth briefly, retreating back, and then coming back in to snare Gideon’s bottom lip between her teeth.

The pain of it is shocking enough to jerk Gideon’s hips forward. But in a good way. Gideon moans, unable to stop herself when Harrow nips gently this time, the tip of her tongue flicking over Gideon’s lip.

And Gideon just about loses it.

Her own hand curls into Harrow’s silky locks and she yanks her forward.

Their mouths collide in a mash of lips and teeth. And tongue.

Gideon finds she likes the way Harrow melts into her, but it still doesn’t fully compare to the shudder that surges through her when Harrow’s tongue licks into her mouth, which Gideon gladly pulls between her teeth and sucks.

It’s possibly the most sensual, filthiest kiss Gideon’s ever experienced.

Harrow moans her approval, the vibration rippling over the roof of Gideon’s mouth. She feels rather than hears the whine that leaves Harrow’s mouth as Gideon abandons her lips. It takes her two seconds to assess the situation at hand: Harrow is panting heavily, lips parted, puffy and wet with Gideon’s saliva. Gideon must not be faring much better, as her heart beats loudly against her rib cage.

Without thinking, she lowers her hands to Harrow’s thighs, and she hops her on the backrest of the sofa in a swift turn and effortless lift. All her thoughts are put on the back burner once she starts kissing Harrow’s throat, nipping and lightly biting down the column of her neck. Harrow’s breath snags where Gideon’s mouth is.

“G-griddle ,” Harrow says in a trembling sigh.

Gideon finds Harrow’s pulse fairly easily. It’s racing against Gideon’s lips, and she traces the throbbing skin above it with the tip of her tongue. Soothing it.

Gideon bites.

Harrow reels forward, her body arching into Gideon’s with the most desperate, hottest mewl Gideon has ever heard.

She has to keep her hands from hiking up Harrow’s t-shirt  (her own, now that she thinks about it), when Harrow digs her fingernails into Gideon’s back. But Harrow is already pulling her in for another open-mouthed kiss, hot and needy and forceful enough that Gideon can’t take control even if she tries. And God, she does try.

But Harrow’s tongue slips in between her lips and it knocks Gideon totally off guard. Harrow suddenly rolls her hips closer, grinding on Gideon’s abs, at which point they freeze and —Their eyes lock.

It’s spellbinding.

They’re both breathing hard, loud in the otherwise silent room.

Harrow is leaning over her and she has her hands in Gideon’s hair, as Gideon’s roam all over her hips and naked back, under cotton.

Gideon could get used to this. She has never been this turned on in her life.

Even in the dimly lit living room, Gideon can see Harrow’s black eyes boring into her, the outline of her body shape underneath the thin cotton of the borrowed cropped top, which leaves her nipples taut and tempting, poking through the material.

Gideon’s heart is thundering in her chest as she slowly, tentatively, raises her hand from Harrow’s hips, under the cotton of her t-shirt, up to the softness of her breasts.

The gasp that rises in Harrow’s throat only spurs Gideon on.

Harrow’s hips jut forward, gently urging her to keep going. Gideon does, and Harrow jolts into her,  grinding her hips harder into Gideon’s midriff, their noses brushing as Harrow sucks in another gasp.

Fuck, Gideon is about to lose her goddamned mind.

“Is this okay?” Gideon asks, shakily.

Harrow nods her head, keeping her eyes shut, and grinding harder on Gideon’s thigh for good measure.

That’s all Gideon needed. Flicking Harrow’s nipple through her shirt, she lowers her head back to lick and kiss Harrow’s neck.

One, two, three times she circles Harrow’s nipple with her thumb, as her mouth leaves dark marks on Harrow’s neck and clavicles.

Harrow moans, open-mouthed, and searches for better friction on Gideon’s body, humping her naked thigh with abandon.

It takes Gideon one second to think, before she lowers her hands under Harrow’s thighs, and hops her up once more, legs around her waist. It’s only a few strides for Gideon to drop Harrow on the kitchen counter, wrapping her slim legs at her back.

Harrow is now at the perfect height.

Gideon moves from one nipple to the other, this time descending to it with her mouth, licking through the cotton.

The wet splotch on the t-shirt must feel pretty frustrating to Harrow, as she grabs Gideon’s hair tightly and directs her to her nipple more firmly.

Gideon’s head feels strangely empty of thoughts when Harrow’s blunt nails thread through her hair, and soft meals escape her mouth every time Gideon’s tongue flutters against her nipple.

“Take it off,” Harrow gasps, head thrown back in pleasure, “take it off, Griddle.”

Gideon doesn’t have to hear it twice. Her hands move fast to the hem of the cropped top, easing it off Harrow’s body effortlessly.

It’s…everything.

Harrow, sitting on her kitchen counter, in her grey sweatpants, and now, naked from the waist up.

Gideon vaguely remembers how, during their first time together, Harrow stopped her from directly stimulating her nipples. She remembers how, in the dark room, she could barely see the dark areolas and the tip of her nipples.

But now? Now she’s, honest to God, salivating at the sight.

Small perky tits, dark brown nipples, and goosebumps on Harrow’s skin.

It’s maddening.

She can only do one thing, after that, “May I?” she asks, her voice trembling in anticipation.

Harrow grips her hair tighter, almost painfully tighter now, and she kisses her again. Deep, languid kisses that make her head spin, while her hands travel the full expanse of Harrow’s back.

She feels Harrow nodding in the kiss, and once her lips are freed from Harrow’s passion, she lowers her head and latches on Harrow’s nipple.

Softly. Oh, so softly, she licks the taut nub into her mouth. Rolling it on her lips, gently, like she’s afraid of breaking a spell.

“Griddle, mhm—!” Harrow pushes her chest into Gideon’s face, clearly looking for better stimulation, but Gideon grounds her hips with her hands, so much larger and darker than Harrow’s hips.

She sucks the nipple in her mouth, hollowing her cheeks. Then, with a wet pop, she moves to the other nipple, beginning anew with soft, gentle licks.

“Griddle, please,” she breathes on Gideon’s hairline, hot breath tickling Gideon’s forehead.

Gideon moans, rocking her whole body into Harrow’s and giving her a hard squeeze and more room to grind her hips on once she releases the nipple from her mouth.

They kiss, dirty and needy, and Gideon grabs Harrow’s thighs and picks her up without warning for a single second that she’s going too fast.

Legs entwined behind her back, arms hugging her neck, and tongues dancing against one another, Gideon moves Harrow’s half-naked body to her room.

She stands at the foot of her bed with Harrow in her arms, still kissing and grinding against her body.

It’s dizzying, the way they kiss each other: nasty, wet kisses that leave her without air in her lungs.

It’s so hot Gideon can barely stand it.

Slowly, softly, she lowers herself and Harrow to her bed, the only light keeping them a dim company being the one lamp in the living room.

Sitting at the foot of the bed, with Harrow straddling her, Gideon loses herself and sucks one of Harrow’s tits in her mouth, while massaging the other.

Harrow moans, tilting her chin to the ceiling, and letting her hair fall back.

She smells like Gideon’s body gel, and Gideon just about loses it once she realises that yes, Harrow smells like her stuff because she showered with her stuff, and is wearing her clothes, fresh out of the laundry. Gideon feels drunk and never more sober than at this moment, breathing in the soft scent of her shower gel, the freshness of her laundry detergent, and something that’s… Harrow. Simply Harrow.

She groans, sucking on the nipple as if it could be the only thing keeping her sane at the moment.

Harrow grinds harder on her hips, still struggling to find a better way to feel pleasure.

Gideon acts automatically, moving her hands to grab Harrow’s ass below the material of the sweats she borrowed.

Skin. Bare skin, fuck.

Of course, Harrow is not wearing any underwear after getting it drenched in rainwater.

Gideon dies, right there and then, when her large hands and long fingers dip slightly lower, and she touches the hot wetness between Harrow’s legs.

She lets go of the nipple in her mouth when they moan at the same time, as the sweatpants ride lower and lower on Harrow’s hips.

She feels Harrow’s lips, tongue, and teeth mark her neck, then down her clavicles. Hot, spindly fingers tug her t-shirt up, and with a smooth manoeuvre, Gideon ends up bare-chested, with Harrow’s mouth suckling on her tits.

It’s too much, Gideon cannot stop herself. She’s too fucking horny, and she needs Harrow! She needs her everywhere!

 

“Want you in my mouth, Griddle. I need to eat you.” Harrow says, stealing the thoughts from her brain.

Wait, what?

“Wah?” She goes, eloquently.

Harrow seems to understand the issue, and starts to ascend back to Gideon’s mouth, kissing the plump lips she finds softly. Gideon’s head in Harrow’s hands, they finally look at each other.

Gideon doesn’t know how she can recover from Harrow’s kisses now, she feels drunk and on the brink of a heart attack.

“Griddle, may I touch you?” Harrow mumbles, moving her lips against Gideon’s.

It takes her one second to connect her brain again, “Fuck yeah.”

Gideon never felt this unbound before.

Kissing becomes sloppy, and wet, and Gideon hugs Harrow close to her chest, feeling her hard nipples rub against her chest.

Moans and whimpers reverberate in the bedroom. Gideon feels dizzy, and gasping for air, she realises Harrow is on top of her, her thumbs playing with the waistband of Gideon’s shorts.

 

“I’d give anything to see you, Griddle,” she moans, humping Gideon’s thigh, “I’d do anything to taste you…”

A strangled whimper escapes from Gideon’s mouth without warning.

“God—! Fuck, Harrow,” she breathes out, moving her hips against Harrow’s knee, and squeezing her buttocks.

“Would you let me, Griddle?” She asks, teasing Gideon’s shorts. “Don’t you want my mouth?”

“Oh, fuck…”

“Me, on my knees?” Harrow juts her hips harder on Gideon’s thigh, “Don’t you want me between your legs, sucking you until I can’t take it anymore?”

Gideon must be dreaming. She must be. Harrow sounds desperate as if she had been waiting all these years to have a chance to rectify the one regret she had that night. But that cannot be. No… Gideon must have fallen asleep.

Dreaming Harrow is not new. Having wet dreams about Harrow? Fuck, Gideon lost count of how many she had since she was but a pimple-y teenager. But…she’s always topping. Always.

It’s so rare for Gideon to be on the receiving end that…shit, when was the last time?

No. She must be dreaming now. She will wake up, and Harrow will disappear, and she’ll have to jerk off God knows how many times before she’ll feel satisfied with her own fingers.

“Griddle…fuck…” Harrow breathes on her neck, biting at the soft flesh, her fingertips past the shorts, but she waits. She waits for Gideon. “Please? I need to fuck you with my tongue…” Gideon groans, nasty little nunlet.

“Shit, okay…yeah. Anything. Go ahead, fuck.”

Harrow's eyes burn, as she gasps in disbelief at what she has just heard. Her breathing quickens.

Gideon feels her heart leap into her throat.

Those eyes. Fuck. Oh, fuck, she’s in so much trouble.

Gideon stands still, and the only thing she sees is the narrowing of Harrow’s eyelids and her head in the crook of her neck.

Gideon moans, with Harrow barely touching her. Just the tip of her nose and her hot breath on her skin. It can't be true.

Harrow takes a deep breath and slowly descends on her. Gideon's eyes widen as millions of images flood her mind once more.

And they all lead to a raven head moving between her legs. And that isn't good.

But her body doesn’t seem to agree, as Harrow moves lower down her body, leaving scorching marks with her tongue and teeth.

She drops her eyes and moans as she sees Harrow's eyes staring at her now past the waistband of her shorts. Her hands don't even touch her, they fly over her hips and she barely feels them.

Gideon leans against the bedsheet and swallows, her chest heaving and her heart a constant throb she can almost hear in her ears.

 And when Harrow's knees hit the floor Gideon thinks she may be going to die before it all even starts.

Harrow's fingers slide up her shorts and gently grip the waistband. Gideon sees her swallow and her gaze—always connected to hers—wavers in anticipation.

Her shorts slide down her quadriceps slowly, slowly, and when a draft of air hits Gideon, now wet in a way that she herself would have defined obscene, she feels herself blush like never before. But it’s Harrow’s gaze that shatters every chance of Gideon’s keeping it together.

She moans, unable to help herself. Only at Harrow's expression, does she catch her breath and turn redder than before. Gideon feels more naked than ever, because those eyes, black as the abyss, keep looking at her, in an expression that she can't decipher at the moment.

She only sees Harrow's chest rising and falling more quickly, and her neck moves as she swallows nervously. Her mouth left ajar with heavy breaths. Gideon feels a rush of heat and pleasure at being stripped like this, being looked at like this. And she realises that the idea of being at Harrow’s mercy turns her on more than any hookup she had the last few years.

So in a quickening breath, Gideon spreads her legs, holding onto the sheets, and almost comes at the expression Harrow makes, the moan she lets out of hers, and the way she licks her lips.

Suddenly Gideon finds herself impatient. She stirs and moans hoping Harrow will wake up from the kind of trance she has taken over her. And it happens. Her now black eyes find hers, and god Gideon scratches the mattress behind her.

Because Harrow looks so hungry. Starved. Just for her. Only for Gideon.
Gideon sighs, and Harrow must take it for a nod. She leans over her and she moans loudly as her mouth hovers just a breath away from Gideon’s slit.

 

"I'll stop if you ask me.”

It is the last thing she hears before those lips land on her sex, and Gideon stops breathing, thrusting her hips so hard against Harrow’s mouth she falls backwards on the bed. Her eyes widen, and her nails scratch the soft fabric of her bedsheets.

God. God. Jesus fucking God.

Harrow's tongue is so warm and soft, and... oh, fuck. GOD. Gideon is aware of the moan Harrow breathes on her clit, but she doesn't notice her own hand darting up to Harrow's head to hold her right where she is. When did she move? When did she put it there? Who cares? Right now, she has Harrow's tongue licking in places only few have put their hand or mouth.

And Harrow is there now, moaning against her sex like she doesn't even know how to stop herself, while Gideon humps that hot mouth of hers as if she doesn't seem to want to be anywhere else.

…AH. “Fuck!”

 

Her eyes widen, and she looks down. Bad idea, oh fuck. She moans shamelessly. Harrow's mouth on top of her, and her tongue separating her folds and licking like she’s been starved until now, tasting and savouring every drop of Gideon’s wetness.

Gideon growls as her hands tangle in Harrow's hair, now sticking out in all directions.

And when Gideon opens her eyes again, she is met with that hungry look once more. Harrow is ravenous, and excited, and looks at Gideon like she only wants her.

Gideon gasps faster and faster, and when she thinks she has reached her peak, Harrow replaces her tongue with a thumb on her clit, heavy and unforgiving, as her tongue slides inside her.

Gideon comes.

She opens her mouth and comes for the first time on Harrow’s tongue, stunned, arching her back off the mattress.

God, she—, oh, fuck. Harrow... Harrow doesn't stop, no, not at all.

And Gideon struggles, gasping, her head spinning, and a constant tingling all over her cunt. The pleasure between her legs explodes in small continuous waves coordinated by Harrow's touches inside her. She stares at Harrow's eyes, always on hers, as she watches her face thrust into her sex in rhythm, each thrust deeper, or so it seems to her.

"Harrow... shit, FUCK," she yells, trying to hold onto something above, but there is nothing. She feels herself floating in an infinite everywhere. Incredible colours behind her lids. And the only thing she feels is Harrow's warm tongue licking inside her, thrusting, sucking, and moaning into her. Gideon doesn't know if she is screaming, moaning, or just gaping and trying not to have a heart attack right now. She pushes Harrow deeper, and the only thing that comes to mind is 'more.'

So she says, "If you keep going... if you... fuck, shit—."

Harrow stares at her, letting out a soft growl, and Gideon gasps harder and faster as another orgasm hits her more intensely than the last.

 And Harrow doesn't stop. Gideon is exhausted, and she feels like she is in some kind of limbo, where her body exists only for what Harrow is doing to her. She smiles or tries, at least. And she hears Harrow muttering some nonsense against her thigh, “Taste so good…Taste so good…” kissing anything her lips can find, her eyes closed, astonished.

Gideon feels her body regain some newfound energy. Something that comes from within, deep, from the darkest part of her repressed past.

 

My turn now, she thinks.

She bends, and before she knows it Gideon finds Harrow’s mouth, wet and open, like she was coming up for air and found Gideon instead.

She tastes like…well, Gideon’s pussy. And Gideon fucking loves tasting herself, okay? There’s something so fucking erotic in licking your own cum after an orgasm, and it’s so much more when she tastes it from someone else’s lips.

And. Fuck. Harrow is not just someone…

She’s—, she’s everything. She’s all Gideon has ever wanted, and she fucking tastes like Gideon now.

Harrow ate her, and made her cum hard on her tongue, and now her slick is in her mouth, on her lips, all over her face, and her neck.

“Mhm—,” Gideon fucking growls at Harrow’s suffocated moan.

She kisses her, and they turn on the bed, Harrow lying on her back, and Gideon lying on top of her.

How? How is she supposed to react now?

Well…she’s not sure how a decent human being would react. She has no fucking clue, since Harrow is taking charge of the whole thing apparently. Thank God, Gideon’s brain has lost all its synapses the moment their lips touched, anyway.

She doesn’t need to think, not when Harrow groans loudly, completely exasperated, and without a single moment of hesitation, she grabs Gideon's wrist and shoves her hand below the elastic band of the sweatpants, jutting her hips at the very first contact of Gideon’s fingertips with her drenched cunt.

Gideon grunts, her hand automatically flexing downwards, rubbing Harrow’s entrance. Hot, so fucking hot, and…

“You’re fucking soaked, Harrow.”

Harrow bucks against her fingers, once, twice, trying to finally get Gideon to do something about it.

It’s…shit, how do you describe when the one person you’ve been thirsting for the better part of your entire life is lying under you, wet—fuck, drenched, after she just fucked you with her mouth? It’s fucking impossible to describe! It’s too much, and words are so little, and Gideon just needs Harrow to say yes, and she’ll finally be inside her after all this time.   

“What do you want, Harrow?” She asks, Gideon’s voice trembles with anticipation, and …She wants Harrow, goddamnit. Fuck, she wants Harrow so much, she wants to be so deep inside her. She just needs Harrow to say it, to ask—no, fuck, to beg for it.

Harrow loosens the vice grip on her wrist, and grabs her face with both hands, forcing Gideon again in a hard kiss.

Tongue, and teeth, and fuck, Gideon doesn’t even realise she’s basically teasing Harrow’s entrance with the tip of her finger. Just one fingertip, it’s fucking nothing, but Harrow feels so warm and Gideon wants to fuck her till her last breath.

She feels dizzy, her head cradled by Harrow and her lips too busy tasting Harrow’s hot, wet mouth. She’s so fucking gone, she feels so far away from her own body, that when Harrow separates their tongues, she barely registers what’s happening, until she hears her words.

“I need you inside, Griddle,” Harrow says, breathing they words like for a prayer. Then, with a voice so soft Gideon struggles to understand if she hallucinated it, she adds, “I’m so close already, I just need you inside me.”

Gideon obliges, with a guttural growl.

 

She slips inside Harrow’s tight, warm, wet cunt with a groan, deep from the deepest part of her soul. 

She slips two fingers, all the way down to her knuckles, as Harrow moves her hips to facilitate the movement.

Gideon sobs, unable to stop herself, as Harrow starts humping her hand.

“Oh fuck, Harrow,” she moans, keeping her head bent next to Harrow. “You can’t say shit like that.”

She pumps her middle and ring finger, and looks for that sweet sweet spot, hooking both fingers.

Harrow is a mess of mewls and moans and whimpers, and fucking hell how’s Gideon supposed to last like this? Harrow’s the one getting fucked right now, and Gideon is the one inching closer and closer to cum again? What the fuck!

Gideon moves her elbow to find a steadier position, keeping herself in a half-plank rather than leaning all her weight on Harrow’s minute body.

She regains exactly two brain cells, just enough to avoid cumming in her pants without an ounce of direct stimulation.

It’s worse. She can now pay attention to Harrow’s face, scrunched up in the hottest, sexiest, most erotic expression of I’m-getting-fucked, while her lips part and a soft litany of Griddle, Gi—fuck, oh God, please, please, Oh, fuck—Griddle, baby, please.

Baby? Did Harrow just—?!

Oh fuck, Gideon is two seconds away from ugly crying and having the deepest, ugliest orgasm she ever had, and Harrow is squeezing her fingers, milking them, moving her hips perfectly in rhythm with Gideon’s shallow thrusts.

“Baby…” Gideon repeats Harrow’s pet name, breathing softly against her ear.

“Baby, please,” Harrow begs, twisting her body in a tense pose, clenching her cunt around Gideon’s fingers.

“Please? Please what, baby?” She asks, pumping her fingers in harsh juts.

With a swift decision, Harrow moves her hips, and Gideon follows, finding herself on her back, with Harrow riding her now, grinding on her pelvis, and forcing Gideon’s fingers deeper inside, however possible.

Hands on Gideon’s shoulders, thighs spread wide on Gideon’s abs, and knees deep in the mattress, Harrow rides her.

It’s…mesmerising.

Her fucking tits, small and perky, with Gideon’s marks dotted around her dark nipples. Her face, focused and serious, bent towards Gideon’s, yet too far away to kiss. Her cunt, slick and hot, smearing wetness on Gideon’s midriff as her fingers stroke Harrow’s sweet spot deeply and steadily.

Gideon adds a finger, feeling Harrow’s cunt stretching around her.

“Oh, mm—, fuck!”

Shit. Gideon’s head is all over the place. Fuck, fuck, she’s going to say some stupid shit.

“Fuck…” she moans, moving her wrist, trying to find more space to stuff herself inside Harrow. “Wish it was my cock, fuck…”

There you go. Fucking…Moron!

Gideon's brain is fucking mush, completely unsalvageable, so of course, she keeps going.

“Fuck, I’d fuck you so good, Harrow. I’d make you feel so full.” Fuck!! Don’t make it worse now, don’t make it worse!  “I’d stuff you full, baby, I’d make you come so hard. Wanna stretch you wide-open.” A real fucking idiot, there you go…

Harrow’s erratic movements, the kinds one does when not too far away from cumming deep and hard, suddenly stop. Harrow stops, three fingers inside her cunt, and Gideon’s bloody mouth hanging open.

Of course, she had to say some stupid shit, as usual. Gideon and her stupid fucking mouth.

 

It must be no longer than five seconds, however long it feels for Gideon not being relevant, when Harrow grabs Gideon’s jaw, and looks deep inside her golden orbs.

“Where?” Harrow asks, her voice really fucking hoarse.

“Bwha?” Gideon replies, her jaw hanging tight in Harrow’s hand.

“Where do you keep your strap?”

Shit. “As in…to—?”

“To fuck me with it, Nav.”

 

Gideon’s brain will never return to its normal state. Ever again. Never.

“Yeah? Shit! Fuck, wait,” Gideon scrambles to get up with one hand stuck between her abs and Harrow’s cunt, and the other keeping her up on mattress. She slowly pulls out her fingers, drenched in Harrow’s cum, and as she goes to clean them against her bedsheets, Harrow grabs her wrist.

She sees the scene in front of her in slow motion: Harrow moves Gideon’s hand, slick with her wetness, to her mouth. And. Fuck. Shit, fuck. Harrow licks her fingers, one by one, cleaning her fucking mess, and suckling finger by fucking finger.

It’s…involuntary, when Gideon groans and, once her fingers are free from the hot wetness of Harrow’s mouth, she dives up, and kisses Harrow again.

It’s official.

Gideon is fucking addicted to Harrow’s lips, and tongue, and now, fuck, she’s addicted to her taste. She licks into her mouth, exploring languidly with her tongue, looking for every last trace of her cum, hiding behind her teeth.

They get lost in the kiss, again. Or at least, Gideon does, as she cradles Harrow’s neck, and hugs her hips closer.

Harrow kisses back just as voraciously, running her hands in Gideon’s hair, and rubbing her pussy on Gideon’s abs.

Gideon kisses her, hands keeping her steady, as Harrow tries to wriggle free, for what? Gideon’s not sure, her brain is too foggy now to remember such details.

Harrow whimpers, pulling Gideon’s hair to meet her lips at bay.

“Nav,” she calls her, her hips never breaking the undulating rhythm against Gideon’s midriff.

Gideon groans, intelligently, not thinking for a single second, and attacking her lips and teeth on Harrow’s neck, harshly.

“Fuck, Nav…” Harrow moans, keeping her hair in a tight grip, but losing her position, as they both fall back against the covers. “Nav, the harness?” She asks, breathing heavily as Gideon leaves a dark mark on her neck.

Harness?! The harness!

“You’re too fucking distracting Harrow, holy shit,” Gideon moans, eyes closed, as she kisses Harrow’s chest hovering above her face.

“Where is it?” Harrow asks again, rubbing her face on Gideon’s hair, and inhaling deeply.

Gideon throws a hand around, not bothering to look or stop herself from worshipping Harrow’s clavicles and upper chest. She pats around, finding her nightstand, and hooking a finger to open the magic drawer.

She fails.

 

Well, to be fair, anyone would fail at that, okay? She’s literally struggling to keep kissing Harrow’s chest, palming her ass and keeping her steady against her body, all while Harrow keeps. humping. her. Whatthefuck. She needs both her hands, okay?!

So, she fails at opening the goddamn drawer. Big fucking deal. Her hands are too busy to care about it now.

She feels Harrow’s chuckle before she actually hears it, as it spreads from her chest up to her throat.

And before she knows it, her whole body is jerked back against the mattress as Harrow sits up on her, rubbing her pussy harder against Gideon’s body.

Gideon groans at the loss of Harrow’s proximity, but she recovers fast when Harrow lowers herself down, right next to her ear, as she whispers, “Useless, Griddle.”

She should feel offended, right? Like, everyone would feel offended. What the fuck? But Harrow’s voice is so soft, so hoarse from all the moaning she’s been struggling to keep at bay. God, her voice is sex, pure sex, and it feels so sweet and warm in her ear, when it spreads all over her cheeks and down her neck.

It’s humiliating, when Gideon’s hips jerk up from the mattress, and her voice breaks in a desperate, “God, fuck, Harrow…”

“Ssssh,” Harrow shushes her, and again, humiliating, right? And yet, for fuck’s sake, Gideon is so wet she’s pretty sure her slick just poured on her bedsheets.

Harrow straightens her back once more, leaning towards the bedside table, and opening the drawer with ease.

She should’ve been the one to do that. Fuck, it’s her magic drawer, she has…loads of crap in there, some of it she’s not sure Harrow could stomach, but she’s too late now.

“Let me get—,” she tries to get up, but Harrow grounds her with her hips on her chest as she keeps rummaging through the mess she finds in the drawer.

Gideon closes her eyes, feeling her whole face turn red, all the way down to her upper chest.

“Mmmh, quite the collection, Griddle…” Harrow hums, “I’m giving for grated everything in here has been thoroughly cleaned after each use.” She says, looking at Gideon with a raised eyebrow.

Gideon nods, her voice lost somewhere between Harrow calling her useless and her slim hand picking up all her dildos and vibrators one by one to inspect them. All while keeping her wet cunt on Gideon’s body, and slowly driving Gideon fucking insane about it.

After what feels like an eternity, Harrow takes her black harness out, the straps neatly folded to avoid wasting time in detangling them.

Harrow helps, in a way: she helps when Gideon starts rummaging through her nightstand, looking fretfully to the point where her hands feel like butter; Harrow steadies her, taking a couple of seconds to slip a black, non-realistic dildo (6 inches, yet slightly girthy-er than the very slim one she usually goes for with new partners) in the O ring. She helps, of course, when Gideon starts to wear the harness, and gets tangled in the straps like a complete amateur; she secures the straps around Gideon’s hips and thighs. She helps when Gideon’s shaky and sweaty hands cannot seem to remember how to open the goddamned foil of the goddamned condom and…Harrow grabs her hands, and she kisses Gideon on the mouth. Once. And again. 

 

“Maybe I should eat you out…” Gideon mumbles, between kisses, “to get you all wet and ready, you know?”

She hears Harrow’s laughter, her lips still pressed together.

“Nav,” she whispers against her lips, “Inside. Now.”

Gideon whimpers like a wounded animal. She feels less feral, as if Harrow’s words just tamed her, however briefly. 

She’s here, Gideon thinks, she’s mine to take. 

Harrow kisses her, again, so softly, and Gideon shivers as nimble hands roll the thin latex on the toy, coating the cock with two large dollops of lube. 

When Harrow turns around giving her back, Gideon feels unhinged, uncaged. She feels like she’s about to break out from her own skin.

 

Harrow turns her neck, finding Gideon’s lips again, as muscular arms circle her waist. The silicon settles on her lower back, and two strong fingers go back to her slit, playing with the wetness Gideon finds. Black eyes lock onto golden ones, and as Harrow spreads her legs, Gideon loses control of all that happens afterwards. 

She drops dead, her whole world turning black, as her arms circle Harrow’s body, and her lips find her mouth. She comes back alive once they’re back on the bed, Harrow lying prone on the mattress, and Gideon’s cock fully seated inside her cunt: deep, and hard, and…

Harrow lets the loudest moan at the first push, her voice bouncing from wall to wall. 

Gideon thrusts her hips, looking for more, more, just fucking more to give to Harrow. 

It’s a frenzy she cannot stop. Gideon cannot stop. She’s in too deep. She needs to take Harrow and never let go. She just…she needs to…Fuck!! She wants Harrow to know how much she wants her, and how much she missed her, and just (fuck! fuck!! She wants to scream, but she cannot, she just—!) 

“Fuck, God—! Gri-griddle, deep! Deeper!” 

Gideon growls and thrusts her hips harder and faster against Harrow’s buttocks, feeling her body moving in tandem with her, and it’s fucking addicting, okay? She bites hard, her teeth closing mercilessly around Harrow’s neck and shoulder. Harrow moans and clasps the bedsheets tightly in her fists. Gideon keeps jutting her pelvis deeper, and God, she tries to have a steady rhythm but, how? How is she supposed to keep her body  from fucking ruining Harrow? 

“Griddle, please! Just…stay there, right there!” 

She thrusts her hips again, grounding her movement with her knees deep in the mattress, and her arms shaking as she tries to keep her position to avoid smashing Harrow with her full bodyweight. 

“Gid—griddle, ah, ah, ah, fuck! I’m—,” spasms run wild through Harrow’s body, as wave after wave of what feels like a very intense orgasm spread from her cunt through every other fibre of her being. 

 

Gideon finds it exhilarating. As Harrow comes down from her high, her body growing lax against the mattress, Gideon embraces her and keeps her close, kissing the back if her neck in the softest way she ever kissed Harrow so far. 

“Mhmm…” Harrow hums, cozying up in Gideon’s arms, while Gideon kisses her neck right where it meets the shoulder. Fuck, that’s a large bite mark…

“That was something else, Nav…” Harrow comments in her hoarse voice, tangling her fingers with Gideon’s.

Gideon nods, finally lowering her body to the side, relaxing her muscles one by one, but keeping her hips pressed tightly agains Harrow’s ass. 

Gideon feels free, finally. She fucking did it, in the end. She got Harrow to feel good, even if years later. She managed to make it right…

“Fuck…” she breathes out, with a long sigh. And she ruins it. “If only our first time was like tonight, uh?”

Harrow tenses. Her whole body locks as she slowly straightens her spine to turn around and look at Gideon’s face, and the soft atmosphere around them changes in one second.

“Finally got you to feel good, Nonagesimus! That’s…about time, right?” Gideon laughs, bashfully. Wanna talk about people stuffing their feet in their mouth? Meet Gideon Nav, idiot extraordinaire. “Better late than never!”

Harrow shakes her head in disbelief. She looks at Gideon like she just came out of a daze. Like, she wasn’t really Harrow just now. She was some pseudo-Harrow that enjoys Gideon’s company. But that’s enough…real-Harrow is back, and she’s looking at Gideon like she usually does: with a profound longing, a touch of frustration, and a deep, deep sadness that never escapes her.

It’s just a couple of seconds, where Gideon finds herself with at least another four awfully idiotic sentences to ruin their night with, starting from:
“Look! I didn’t even make you bleed all over this time!” Or , “Managed to get you off without a single panic attack! High-five!”
And even, “Wanna go for another round? Got my cock still buried deep, so…”
But mostly, “What a fucking joke we are, Harrowhark. We could’ve had it all. But no. No, you had fucking Alecto to get back to…”

She doesn’t say any of them, thank God. She doesn’t have time.

 

Harrow untangles herself from Gideon, removing the silicone dildo with a pained whimper as she stands up on shaky legs, and Gideon forces herself to stop her goddamned eyes from tearing up.  

Harrow stands up, and Gideon sags on the bed, her body completely spent. 
She hears her moving around the bedroom, looking for her clothes, Gideon assumes: the bathroom door opens and closes gently, then a flush after less than a minute.

Harrow moves around the room, not uttering a single word, and Gideon knows, she fucking knows, okay?, she messed up again. They’re nowhere near the point where they can joke about that night. Fuck no. And yet, her big dumb mouth couldn’t keep it down.

Gideon straightens her back, keeping herself up with her elbows on the mattress, and she tries, “Harrow, look, I’m s—.”

“Water?” Harrow asks, interrupting her.

“Wah?”

“I’m going to get some water, Nav,” she declares. And without waiting another second, she exits the room.

 

*

 

 

*

 

When Gideon finally gets up, she finds Harrow in her kitchen, drinking from her milk carton. Gideon’s cropped tee covering her shoulders, and…a pair of black boxer briefs, definitely too big, showing off her bare thighs. The same boxer briefs Harrow slid off Gideon’s hips few hours ago. The ones she dropped on the floor right before eating Gideon like she was her favourite meal.

Gideon is not sure how to proceed right now.

They started the night fighting, feeling humiliated, and mocked. And now here they are, as Gideon joins Harrow, resting her hips on the kitchen counter, and looking ahead, standing side by side. Their faces, illuminated by the lights of a city that never felt farther away, look tense. Gideon knows they’re both wondering where to go from here.

“My clothes should be dry by now. I need to get back home,” Harrow mumbles, without moving from her spot.

There’s a heavy weight on Gideon’s shoulders, something she cannot shake. An impending sense of doom, if she doesn’t explain herself.

She has to make it right. She fucked up tonight, badly. She has to make everything right, or this night would end up being another voice in a long list of all the things they did wrong.

And if making it right means humiliating herself in front of Harrow…well, then so be it.

 

“Seeing you with Alecto fucked me up,” she finds herself saying, stuffing her hands in her shorts pockets.

Harrow, arms crossed at her chest, keeps her head straight, but her eyes  narrow down to fissures. She stays quiet, which is the perfect thing for Gideon’s ‘I-have-to-fill-silence-with-words’ issue.

“I made a mess that night. I hurt you, and—,” Gideon swallows pathetically, “I panicked. I wanted to make you feel good, but I…I couldn’t. And I ran away.”

“Nav…” Harrow’s voice is soft, unsure.

“I know, I fucked up.” Gideon interrupts her. “And then I avoided you for days t–, I don’t know, I think I was gathering some courage to talk to you again.”

Gideon remembers how hurt she felt after that. How she saw Harrow, and everything changed.

“Then I saw her with you, Harrow. And…something switched, after that,” Gideon knows it’s not an excuse at this point, but she has to let Harrow know. “I finally had the guts to face you. To apologise. And when I finally found you, you were with Alecto, and she was hugging you and caressing your cheek and…” What a shit reason, isn’t it?

“Nav, she—!”

“I know! She was consoling you! ‘Cause I was a dickhead that hurt you. I got that, dude. I’m just saying…” she runs a hand on her face, “I saw her touching you like that, and you were…relaxed, and comfortable in her arms, Harrow. And it fucked me up.”

Admitting that is a tough endeavour for Gideon. Kinda feels like pulling a rotten tooth out.

“Why?” Harrow asks, her brows furrowed, and a dark shadow down her face.

Gideon turns her head slightly towards Harrow, without turning fully.

“I was fucking jealous, that’s why.”

Gideon doesn’t wait for Harrow to jump in, not now. She is about to ruin their incredibly tenuous friendship, what is there to wait?

“I was finally ready to talk to you: I wanted to apologise, and I wanted to make it right! I wanted to tell you how nervous I was, and how terrible I reacted when I saw you panicking, and how much I wanted to stay and take care of you but…I was stupid, and young, and you were shaking like a leaf every time I was kissing you. I just…” Gideon can feel her eyes prickle, but fuck if she’ll let herself cry right now, “I wanted to try again. I wanted to apologise, and I wanted to ask you to give me another chance. I just wanted to make you feel good, Harrow. For once.”

Gideon breathes loudly.

“And then I saw you in her arms! And you looked…fuck, you looked so completely at ease, when you were trembling at my every touch…”

“Griddle—,” Harrow tries again.

“I couldn’t believe it, okay? You never looked like that with me! I felt so completely defeated. She won, and I didn’t even know there was a competition to begin with.” 

 

Harrow looks baffled as if she cannot even begin to believe what Gideon is talking about.

“A competition for what, Griddle?” She demands, turning all the way to Gideon.

“For you, Harrow…”

“Oh, fuck you!”

Gideon arches an eyebrow, dumbfounded.

"Fuck you, Nav. From my heart.”  Harrow continued, crossing her arms over her chest. "You ignored me, avoided me. You constantly made fun of me." Then, with ice in her voice, ”You’ve slept with half of the female population back in University, and yet you find it hard to even be in the same room as me!” Gideon's eyes widen at that statement. “Competing for me? That must be the most idiotic thing you’ve ever said, I just don’t get—"

“Why does it bother you?" Gideon feels so utterly puzzled. “Why does it bother you that I sleep with a bunch of girls?" Fuck, it’s not the first time she hears Harrow point out her promiscuity, but it still doesn’t make any fucking sense.

They’re standing in front of each other now, one hip still resting on the counter, while their bodies turn to face one another.

“You…” Harrow bites her lips, forcing Gideon to look at her mouth and teeth. “You, asshole!”

Gideon is…taken by surprise. Harrow digs a pointy finger into Gideon’s chest, harshly.

 

“How dare you?!” She snaps, her face contorting in a furious expression, “I lost you because of my own greed! I made my peace with it, I know what I’ve done! You left me behind cause I made you do something you never wanted to, something you regretted dearly! And now you want to lie and pretend you ever felt anything towards me other than contempt?!”

Wait, what the…

“You knew how much I needed you! You knew you were the only thing that ever mattered to me! My one and only friend! And you left me behind like a forgotten toy.” Fuck. Fuck, Harrow’s eyes start to tear up. “And now you want me to believe you were jealous of Alecto, of all people?”

“Harrow —”

“Fuck you, Nav! I needed you!” W-what. “I asked you to be my first! And I was yours from way before that night!” No, fuck no. “You were my only friend! My best friend! Jealous of Alecto, you asshole?! I saw you fucking the entire student body for months before I even started to entertain the idea of having a relationship with Alecto! We weren’t together until our second year of university, long after you stopped talking to me!”

“I saw you days after we hooked up, Harrow!”

“Get it into your thick skull, Nav: what you saw was purely platonic! I was devastated after you ignored me for days, and she was there! Stop using that as your dumb fucking excuse!”

If that’s true…fuck, Gideon fucked up even more than she thought.

“Just admit it, Nav! You regretted it! You simply regretted our night together, and it was easier to leave me behind than to face me!”

“No.”

“Yes! Admit it! Have the guts to say it to my face!”

“I hurt you! I gave you a panic attack!”

 

They’re screaming, inches away from each other, arms moving frantically.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Griddle! I gave myself a panic attack once I realised I finally had you inside of me after being in love with you for years! ”

Wait, what?

That seems to bring Harrow back to hearth too.

They’re looking at each other’s eyes, breathing deeply, jaggedly, so close to the other they could both feel the warm puffs of air coming out of their noses.  

Harrow’s eyes widen comically once she realises what she just admitted to.

“I—,” Harrow stumbles a step back.

“What did you just say?”

“I have to leave.” She tries to move past Gideon, but no. Fuck no! Gideon grabs her wrist before she can move away, spinning her back to her chest.

“What did you just say?” She asks again, barely a whisper above the rain and thunders outside.

Without noticing it, Gideon steps further into Harrow’s space, forcing her to step back, now imprisoned between Gideon’s body and the kitchen counter behind her. Harrow’s eyes, wide and deep and wet with tears, stay on Gideon’s amber ones.

They’re fucked. Gideon is never coming back from tonight.

“Please—,” Harrow begs, and Gideon’s heart jumps a beat at Harrow’s hunting voice, “don’t make me repeat it.”
 
Gideon wants nothing but that. She just needs to hear it again, just once, but Harrow is shaking like a leaf.

Fuck, she’s scaring her. She cornered her and now she wants to leave…fuck, Gideon wants nothing but for her to stay.

“How can you ask me that, Harrow?”

Harrow laughs, wetly, turning her eyes to the far side of the room. “I made my peace with my feelings being unreciprocated, Griddle. I don’t need to hear you never felt the same.”

 

That breaks her heart. This is it. Enough.

“I love you.”

Harrow’s eyes, wet and full, turn furiously to Gideon’s. With shaky hands, she grabs Gideon’s shirt at the neck, and grips the fabric in her tight fists.

“Fuck you.” She breathes between gritted teeth, just an inch from Gideon’s face.

Fuck no. Grabbing Harrow’s hips in her hands and with a feeble voice, Gideon repeats it, “Harrow, I love you.”

“Shut up!” She seethes, shaking Gideon whole body with her weak grip on her tee.

“I fucking love you, Harrow.”

Harrow shakes her head, not believing a single word Gideon just said.

“Please, shut up…” Harrow drops her head on her fists, and Gideon cannot stop her heart from aching so terribly.

“I loved you then, Harrow, and I love you now.”

Harrow sobs as Gideon’s heart cracks open.

“Stop. Don’t do this to me.”

 

Gideon, broken heart and wet eyes, gathers some courage from the deepest pit of her soul. She turns Harrow’s face gently, caressing her jaw with shaky hands. Harrow shuts her eyes, while two fat teardrops fall down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” she starts, her voice cracking, “I’m so sorry, Harrowhark.”

She sees Harrow shaking her head, a tear falling down Gideon’s hand.

“I fucked up, sweetheart. I fucked up so badly. From the very first time I touched you, until tonight. Every single day since then.”

Gideon dries Harrow tears with her thumbs, lowering her forehead to Harrow’s.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry I hurt you.” Harrow sobs. “I’m sorry I left.” She shakes her head, more tears falling down. “I’m sorry I was so stupid…” Harrow swallows loudly. “I thought you didn’t care, Harrow. I thought you only wanted her…”

“I was in love with you, you oaf…” she insults Gideon, eyes shut, red cheeks, and trembling voice.

Gideon’s broken heart aches and aches and aches.

“I’m so sorry, Harrow. I don’t know where to begin. I’m so fucking stupid.”

Harrow nods, and Gideon sees a window of opportunity.

“Yeah? Of course, you agree. I’m so dumb, right?” She prompts Harrow with a smile.

“Idiot.” Harrow says, keeping her eyes shut.

“I know, right? Why would you ever fall in love with me?” She tries, jokingly.

“Because you’re perfect, you moron…”

Gideon is on the verge of breaking down, and Harrow’s words are slowly bringing her closer to the edge.

Gideon frowned, completely taken apart by Harrow’s words. "When I came to look for you—“

"You ran away!” Harrow snaps, cutting her off.  “And I thought sleeping with me was the most disgusting experience of your life. You couldn’t even look me in the eyes!”

“Try to put yourself in my shoes!" Gideon begs. "I thought I screwed it up; that I flushed our friendship down the drain, not that—“ she stops looking at her, and Harrow jumps in, "That I loved you?" she suggests, her whole face contorting in a painful expression. "That I felt madly attracted to you, and jealous of anyone you hang out with to the point of insanity?" Gideon doesn’t know how to react, and Harrow chooses that moment to move in front of her, stroking her hands up to her arms. "That I ache, so badly, every time I see you, but it’s so much worse if I avoid you?" Her hands run up to touch Gideon’s temples, her cheekbones, and her chin with her fingertips; with her thumb, she brushes Gideon’s lower lip, reverently.

"That I dream of you. Gideon, I dream of you every night. Your eyes, and your lips, and…” Harrow’s cheeks colour with embarrassment under Gideon's eyes and their unbearable intensity. “I hear your voice, whispering, and I wake up thinking you’re right next to me. But you’re not, you’re never there. I wake up, and you’re not there with me. I dream of you, and I know it’s a dream, Gideon, when you want me back. How could it ever be anything other than a trick of my own mind? I dream you love me back, Gideon, and you never do-” Harrow couldn't finish, Gideon’s hands on her face and her lips literally eating Harrow’s mouth.

She responds with the same impetuosity, standing up on her toes and throwing her arms around Gideon’s neck, her now useless words swept away by far more meaningful gestures.

Gideon's hands end up on Harrow's waist, their bodies clinging as a complete blackout takes over the ginger's mind, an all-encompassing lust causing her to lose control of her own actions.

Harrow parts her lips, Gideon's tongue playing with hers.

I can die. Gideon thinks. I can die now.

Harrow clasps her hands behind her neck, her fingers brushing the ginger hair at the nape of her neck; she pushes her back until she hit the edge of the backrest of the sofa, clinging to her t-shirt and continuing to kiss her passionately, and the almost desperate want that crushed even the primordial need to breathe because she feared that by separating from Gideon everything would end, like a beautiful dream ending too soon.

“Ah-mhm..." It’s the sound that encourages Gideon’s hands under her t-shirt, her fingers tickling the skin of her back and digging into the waistband of her boxer briefs; Gideon’s lips descend to her neck and she moans when Harrow gives them full access by tilting her head to one side, her tongue leaving a wet trail where her mouth had been just an agonising instant before.

Soon there is no space between them, Gideon's firm grip on her buttocks pressing Harrow hard against her body.

Groans accompany the steps that Harrow is forced to take back when the other detaches herself from the sofa, her hands leaving Gideon’s hair to roam free on her neck, shoulder, arms and back.

Gideon pushes her flat against the full-length window, protecting Harrow’s head from the impact with her own hand, and grabbing Harrow’s hip in a vice grip with the other, kissing her roughly against the glass.

They kiss and kiss, and Harrow jumps from the floor to Gideon’s hips, hooking her legs around Gideon's midsection, grinding against her pelvis.

Harrow’s lips must ache terribly, Gideon finds herself thinking, from the constant assaults received when she turns her head without thinking, her breath catching in her throat. Gideon pauses.

"Harrow." Gideon's gaze feels feverish, darkened by her excitement. “Fuck, Harrow, tell me if I’m hurting you.”

Harrow mewls, nodding, Gideon’s words barely registering when she keeps kissing Gideon’s face with abandon. The pleasure rising from between her legs sets fire to her nerve receptors, amplifying every sensation brought by Gideon’s lips on her neck, her hands on her buttocks, and her hips humping Gideon’s torso.

Incoherent thoughts stir in Gideon’s mind, lost in the caresses, in the touches, in the kisses.

"I want to hear you,” Gideon asks, and Harrow moans in her ear. "I want to hear you, please.” She repeats, grinding her hips more forcefully against Harrow’s open legs.

“Take me to bed. Now.”

 

Gideon, obedient to a fault, leaves the window, stumbling and almost crashing into every vertical surface between them and the room; the bed creaks under their weight, and Gideon props herself up on her elbows so as not to weigh on the smaller girl.

They look at each other, almost blinded by what they see in the other’s eyes. Harrow cups her face in her hands and a moan of pure pleasure escapes her lips as Gideon’s knee pushes between her legs, creating a delicious friction right where she needs the most. “Mmh, Griddle…” Gideon's mouth torments her earlobe.

Kisses on her collarbones, following the rise and fall of Harrow’s laboured breath. Gideon felt herself linger with malevolent awareness between Harrow’s breasts, and everything else disappeared in the sensation of her hand teasing one of her breasts, her lips closing on Harrow’s nipple.

"Gi—AH!" Harrow arches against her, trashing and struggling against Gideon’s weight; taking care to give the same treatment to her other breast, Gideon’s hand slides on her stomach, caressing her, and then aiding Harrow’s legs around her own, her knee thrusting rhythmically against Harrow’s clothed sex.

“It’s okay,” Gideon assures her softly, she can feel Harrow fully pressed against her bare thigh now— warm and damp and throbbing over the wet material of Gideon’s stolen underwear. It drives Gideon fucking insane: the idea that Harrow is wet and slick against her thigh, and the only thing keeping them apart is the same pair of boxers Gideon was wearing right before Harrow decided to eat here Gideon swallows thickly, “you can grind against me.”

To emphasise her words, Gideon tugs Harrow’s hips forward, urging her to move them. Harrow does and jolts into Gideon, their noses brush as Harrow sucks in another gasp. Fuck, Harrow is practically soaked right through.

They start a rhythm between the two of them, tugging and grinding against one another while kissing passionately on the bed. Gideon switches off her brain for a long time, simply focusing on Harrow’s lips, and tongue, and the sway of her hips against her thigh, and fuck…her moans, and whimpers, and grunts.

“Griddle,” Harrow breathes out, once Gideon has her fully on her back, kissing languidly at the soft spot between her neck and shoulders. “I want to touch you…”

Gideon hums, deep in her deepest fantasy of kissing and licking and marking every inch of Harrow’s body, “You can touch me.”

Harrow moans, when Gideon bites the spot she’s been torturing for the last few minutes, “Let me touch you, Griddle…”

“How do you want to touch me, Harrow?” She asks, rubbing Harrow’s nipple between two fingers.

“I want to lick you,” Harrow starts. Gideon moves her hand further down, cupping Harrow’s sex through the soaked underwear.

“Mmhm…yeah…that sounds good,”  Gideon tries, her mind completely entranced by the sweet sweet sensation of Harrow bucking wild against her hand.

“Fuck! Gri-griddle, I want you in my mouth…” Harrow’s voice cracks, her arms embracing Gideon tightly, while her hips move uncontrollably.

“Yeah? What else?” Gideon whispers hoarsely, her hand rubbing at Harrow’s cunt through the damp cotton.

“Please. Please, please…let me touch you!” Harrow screams, her voice so wanton Gideon moans just by hearing it.

“Harrow…fuck…” She keeps her hand above the boxer briefs, bending her fingers down, and prodding at Harrow’s entrance, the damp material keeping her from penetrating Harrow. “Let me make you cum first, and you can do whatever you want to me.”

Harrow snaps. Gripping Gideon’s hair tightly in her fists, she jerks her head up, and they kiss, while Gideon’s fingers keep pumping against the barrier.

“Fuck me, Gideon,” Harrow whispers against her lips, her eyes closed, and her cunt clenching around the single fingertip inside of her. “Fuck me, hard and deep and fast, so I can make love to you.”

 

 

*

 

 

If Gideon thinks about it, she’d laugh. Can you fucking imagine that it took Harrow less time to latch her lips to Gideon’s cunt, than vice versa?

Like, in which fucking universe, Gideon Nav, pussy eating champion, doesn’t dive face first into Harrow’s open legs, as soon as Harrow allows her? Right?!

Well, this one.

In this universe, Gideon had the chance and tried to eat her pussy once, when Harrow asked her to be her first: offer got declined, gently, and as frustrating as it was, she moved on, and lived her life, without a single clue of how Harrow’s cum would taste like.

In this universe, Gideon managed, after years of longing and pining and unrequited love (or so she thought) to fuck Harrow again, this time more successfully: cock ready, and Harrow just as ready to lower herself on it, and she asked again. You see, of course she wanted to make sure Harrow was ready to take her. That’s…sweet, isn’t it? She also wanted to finally have Harrow’s wet pussy smothered on her face. Spreading her slick. She wanted to smell, and taste, and savour Harrowhark Nonagesimus like an inmate would for their last meal. Well, you know she got declined again, on the absurd basis that Harrow was indeed obscenely wet already.

Now, the fact is: Gideon is a selfish bastard. And yeah, of course she wanted to make sure Harrow was ready and all that jazz but…to be honest, Gideon Nav is a true selfish prick. 

She wanted Harrow in her mouth. 

She wanted Harrow in her mouth, and now, after being declined twice, and after declaring their undying love for each other, Gideon finally, finally, descends on Harrow’s naked chest, down, past her belly button, and after spreading Harrow’s legs as far apart as humanly possible, she bends her head down, rubbing her mouth and nose on Harrow’s clothed sex.

She thinks, many would think they’re absolutely disgusting: Harrow has been wearing her boxers, the same fucking briefs Gideon had on while wet and needy for Harrow. Gideon rubs her lips  and her tongue on the damp cotton, savouring the mixture of their cum: tangy, and salty, and hot, and wet, and Harrow.

She’s in heaven. She died, and her soul just reached the highest cloud in paradise.

As she licks, exploring Harrow’s sex through the ridges and folds of the boxers briefs, Harrow keeps her hands in her hair, scratching at her scalp with blunt nails and gentle praises.

 

“So good, Griddle…” She's moaning, as Gideon tries to suck her clit through the underwear, resulting in the typical sloppy sounds of pussy eating. “You’re so good.”

The decision to fuck Harrow through her boxers is one she doesn’t make consciously.

Since the underwear is slightly big on Harrow’s narrow hips, it’s easy for Gideon to move this aside, just enough to slip two fingers inside Harrow’s cunt, and lick her clit over and over.

Harrow tastes so fucking divine, Gideon seriously thinks she might be dead: she was convinced Harrow hated her guts just…fuck, maybe four hours ago?, and now she’s eating her out, sloppy style, while Harrow wears her underwear.

That’s — honestly? Really fucking neat.

She loses herself in the soft movement of her tongue: a steady rhythm of strokes with the tip of her tongue, alternated by flat lapping of Harrow’s clit. Over and over, until Harrow grabs her head, and with a raucous “Take them off!”, Gideon finds herself eating Harrow’s cunt, without a single thing to keep her from it.

She…fuck, Gideon has no idea how long she spends between Harrow’s legs. The only thing she knows is how Harrow keeps praising her, in a soft, continuous string of Gideon, so good, you’re so good, Gideon, baby, just like that, please, Gideon, c’mere, come here, Gideon, please.

Harrow cradles her face in her hands, and she kisses her deeply, licking every drop of cum from Gideon’s chin, cheeks and neck.

“Gideon…” She breathes, a single breath away from Gideon’s lips, “I need—.”

“Anything,” Gideon mumbles, eyes glazed over by a thick layer of arousal. “Everything, Harrow. Just take it.”

Harrow shakes her head, with a little smile stretching her lips. “I want to make love to you, darling…” Gideon groans, her hips moving against Harrow’s. “I need to be inside of you, so badly, Gideon,” she begs, her lips brushing softly against Gideon’s as she speaks.

Gideon finds herself nodding, so completely gone in the moment.

“Yes?” Harrow asks, looking for Gideon’s loud consent.

“Yeah. Make love to me, Harrow.”

 

 

*

 

 

Gideon finds herself on her back, her legs spread open, as Harrow rolls a new condom on the strap. 
It’s…a new sensation, for sure. Feeling so vulnerable. 

She must be looking like a scared cat, when Harrow nudges her entrance with the tip of the dildo. She whimpers. 

“Griddle?” Harrow calls her, forcing her to open her eyes and see the sight right in front of her. Harrow looks beautiful. So goddamned beautiful, Gideon’s heart aches for her. 

“We don’t have to…” Harrow reminds her, “tell me to stop, and we can drop it.” 

Gideon shakes her head from way before Harrow finishes the sentence, “I want you, okay?” She declares, her voice steady, but her body not so much. 

Harrow lowers herself, careful to keep her hips still and not slip inside Gideon without warning. Her body moves slowly, her mouth finds Gideon’s chest, right above her heart. It’s so endearing, Gideon’s defences crumble. 

She caresses Harrow’s hair, wild and untamed, with tufts pointing in all directions, “I never really…I mean—,” Gideon clears her voice, trying to find the correct words. “I never had anyone like this, Harrow…” she admits. 

Harrow finds her eyes, and with a note of uncertainty she asks, “You mean,” she lowers her gaze, pointing at the silicone dick proudly standing between her legs, “like this? Or…” 

Gideon laughs a bit, “I mean, I bottom, sometimes, but…never with a strap.” She concedes. 

“Griddle, darling, we don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable,” Harrow tries, lowering her hips so the cock nestles between Gideon’s pelvis and Harrow’s torso. 
“I know, baby,” Gideon offers with a crooked smile, “I want to…” 

Harrow finds her lips, briefly, “I just…I want to be inside you so badly, Gideon.” 

Gideon understands, that’s the thing. If she could forever bind her soul to Harrow so they could be forever entwined, fuck, she’d do it without a second thought. She understands, fully. 

“And…” she starts again, while Harrow kisses her neck, softly, “I guess, having you now, Harrow, like this…it’s a dream come true, sweet cheeks, and…it’s really fucking scary.” It’s an admission, and her heart starts beating so much louder right afterwards. 

Harrow stops, just for one second, then her head rises to look at Gideon again, and she smiles. She giggles, clearly finding Gideon’s words funny. The fuck. 

“You needed me to wear a strap-on to finally understand how I felt that night?” 

Wait. What?

Her face must be hilarious ‘cause Harrow starts laughing, flopping her head against Gideon’s shoulder.

“I wanted you so badly, Gideon,” she whispers, her tense body betraying the light tone of her voice, “it was a dream come true when you accepted my proposal,” she laughs, “and, God, it was terrifying…”

Gideon stops, her fear and her anticipation strangling her intestines. Harrow’s words giving the final punch to knock the air out of her lungs. 
But Harrow is still smiling, and as she straightens her spine, she rests her forehead on Gideon’s hairline. 

 

“We don’t have to do anything, Griddle,” she repeats, “I’ll take anything you’re willing to give me. Gladly.” Then with a small smirk, she adds, “but if you want to try, I’ll be gentle with you,” she kisses the tip of Gideon’s nose, “Unless you don’t want me to be gentle.” 

Gideon thinks, and hunting through her memories, she remembers vividly how Harrow took charge that night. She was scared, and yet, Gideon remembers the determination in her eyes: when Gideon hesitated, she was there, her fist wrapped tightly around Gideon’s wrist, directing her with no hesitation. 

So. Yeah. Gideon takes charge, without hesitation. 

She kisses Harrow, wrapping both arms around her waist and upper back, pushing her tongue past her lips. With determination (pushing down all her fears, really,) Gideon grabs the silicone shaft lying undisturbed against her abs, and with a movement of her hips and wrist, and with Harrow’s perfect synchronisation, the tip of dildo finds her hole. Harrow seems to be lost in the kiss, or the manoeuvre itself, but she moves without even noticing: with a single dip of her hips, her cock pushes inside Gideon’s folds.

“Uhng—,” she whines. Her hand remains steady, keeping the shaft in place as Harrow thrusts slowly and firmly deeper inside her cunt. 

“So good, Griddle,” Harrow praises her, “You’re doing so good, beloved.” 

Gideon moans at the pet name, keeping a traitorous sob at bay. 

“Harrow, please,” she begs, feeling all her body burning up. 

“Shh,” she shushes her, “I’m making love to you right now.”

It’s freeing, and maddening, to feel Harrow bottom up inside her pussy, slowly and deliberately until their hips meet. 

“Harrow, baby,” Gideon tries to jut her hips forward, but Harrow stops her with a hand on her lower belly. 

“Shh,” Harrow hushes her again, when Gideon whimpers at the first thrust. “You’re so tight, my love. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

She pulls out slowly, and Gideon clenches around the tip of the dildo, making Harrow’s following thrust even more of a tight fit. 

“Please—, babe, I just…” fuck, it feels so fucking good, but it’s not enough. 

“So good, Griddle,” Harrow moans, “so good.” 

“Harrow, please,” she begs, “please, harder.”

Harrow kisses her cheek, and her lips, moving her hips without hurry. 

“God, just fuck me, already, please!” Gideon snaps, sneaking one hand to her poor neglected clit. 

Harrow swats her with a little slap, “Think you can take me already, Griddle?”

“Yes!” Please, she thinks, just let me feel you inside already. 

“Such a good little thing you are, Griddle,” Harrow praises her, holding onto her hips with both hands, and increasing the pace. 

Thrust after thrust, Gideon finds herself inching closer to her impeding orgasm. 

“Harrow, please,” she cries, eyes closed and her head next to Harrow’s ear, deep in the pillow. She keeps thrusting her hips harder, her thighs burning from the exertion of keeping them spread wide. “Fuck! I love you…”

She feels Harrow nodding, and she feels her mouth moving next to her ear. 

“Gid—, Ah!, God—, I’m…I—, I think I’m…!” 
She pumps her hips with more purpose, hard and deep, and Gideon falls off the edge, her orgasm hitting every muscle.

Harrow starts convulsing against her body too, her fingers digging deep into Gideon’s meaty thighs, crying helplessly. 

Gideon works her pelvis against Harrow’s, slowing the thrusts to a grinding motion as they both come back from their orgasm. 

Gideon cannot stop herself as she looks up to Harrow’s face: she finds the softest smile stretching her lips, her dark eyes closed in the afterglow. 

She kisses her, stopping her hips completely. 

“So good, Harrow…” she hears herself, as her body sags on the mattress, her muscles giving out after the intense workout she just pulled. “So fucking good, baby…” a mumble, her whole face now completely smushed against Harrow’s neck.

Harrow hums, stroking Gideon’s hair with a shaky hand. “Yeah?”

Gideon should cut her own tongue and chuck it somewhere far, far away. She cannot fucking stop herself, “Best lay ever, babe.” 

For one second, her whole body tenses. Harrow’s hand stops, and Gideon thinks, I’m such a fucking asshole.

But… there’s a chuckle. 

Harrow’s chest starts shaking, at first, and her laughter follows after, free and loud and—

“I love you so fucking much, Harrow…” she breathes out, so completely enamoured with Harrow it’s scary.

“I love you too, you goddamned moron,” she says between laughters, hugging Gideon’s body closer to her chest.

 

 

*

 

 

Gideon wakes up with a gasp, jumping up from her warm cocoon on the bed at the sound of a continuous knocking on her door.

Shit. Who the fuck—!

“Mhmm…” Harrow growls beneath her, her arms loose around Gideon’s back, fingertips teasing her hair. “Sssh…” she demands half asleep, hearing whoever the fuck decided to knock on her door at—Gideon looks at her alarm clock—fucking 10:59 on a Sunday! The day of the Lord!

Gideon just wants to go back to Harrow’s incandescent body, and fall back into Morpheus’ lovely dreamworld, where assholes don’t come knocking on her door, but…

The fucking doorbell rings, way louder than the knocking.

Harrow burrows further in the bed, tightening the grip on Gideon’s shoulders.

“Kill them, Griddle…” She prompts, rubbing her face on Gideon’s neck.

“Mhmm…” Gideon grumbles, turning her neck to find Harrow’s lips, “Imma kill ‘em, and come back…” She mumbles, her voice pillowed and hoarse.

 

It’s a herculean feat for Gideon to get up, grab her shorts and an oversized tee, before reaching the front door. Gideon thinks of it as a major win when she manages to open the door after only two more doorbells and one “DIE!” screamed by Harrow against her pillow.

She turns the latch, then the handle, and schooling her face to look like she’s ready to kill a bitch, she throws the door open.

“Took your sweet time, Ninth,” Camilla Hect in all her beauty stands in front of her, a brown bag full of a variety of pastries in her hand.

“Whatcha doin’ here?” She asks, leaning against the door frame.

“Just checking if you’re okay,” Hect shrugs, “Palamedes and Coronabeth texted you last night. Multiple times.”

“Oh…” Gideon scratches the back of her neck, “Got busy. I’ll text ‘em back in a bit.”

Camilla hums, moving her gaze to the apartment behind Gideon’s body.

“You okay?” She asks, handing the pastries to a very sleepy Gideon.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m peachy,” she replies, peeking inside the brown bag, “Just need to sleep a bit. Long night.”

“I can see…” Camilla comments, pointing at Gideon’s neck.

Fuck.

Gideon remembers Harrow’s kisses, and bites. Her lips, plump and wet, sucking on her pulse point while Gideon was occupied humping her cock.

Fuck, her neck must be a war zone…

“Happy for you, Nav,” Camilla adds, “You guys are made for each other. It was about time you got your head out of your ass.”

Gideon mumbles a pathetic ‘thank you’, right before Camilla checks her phone, seeing an incoming call from Sex Pal.

She waves goodbye, heading towards the elevator.

“Found them.” Gideon hears her saying. “Yes…They’re both okay. ”

Notes:

Artist's socials:

Twitter - Tonk's Twitter

Tumblr -Tonk's Tumblr

Insta - Tonk's Insta

 

Thank you all for reading my fic, I hope you enjoyed it :) Let me know what you thought of it!

Notes:

Artist's socials:

Twitter - Tonk's Twitter

Tumblr -Tonk's Tumblr

Insta - Tonk's Insta

Thank you for reading! Let me know what you thought of it!