The threat's not an idle one, Pearl knows; Rose has done it before, will do it again, with her hands and her mouth sure against all the most sensitive places on Pearl's body stretched vulnerable over the covers, maybe a little vibrating toy thrown into the mix, that quick, cruel little smile playing on her lips all the while.

It strikes her as something likely to happen regardless of how good she manages to be.

The light, deliberate touch of Rose's fingers against her heat-slick folds squeezes a high-pitched tremble of noise from the back of her throat. It's just as frustrating as the water that teases her skin with warmth and pressure, relentless and insubstantial all at once. Her brain's so addled with twisting, yearning want that she barely catches the tail end of the question -- she catches it enough, though, to know that Rose is toying with her, and groans helplessly.

"No, noo, I don't..."