The threat perversely just serves to notch her a little closer up to the edge, and her hand quivers, wanting to pull away, to preserve some fraction of her composure. She doesn't. Can't.
"I...I..."
If they keep going, just like this, Pearl doesn't know how much longer she'll be able to string words together -- and then her incoherence will just merit another punishment, won't it? The cocktail of sugar-sweet affection and gentle derision is devastating. It has Pearl lightheaded, skin prickling hot all over even where the water's not touching her.
She stares helplessly at Rose -- at the new revelations that tease her vision more with every second. No matter how many times she sees Rose's naked skin she doesn't think it'll ever stop short-circuiting her brain. Her mouth's not dry any more: it's watering. She moves her wrist again, trying to find a better angle, one that won't propel her into the danger zone quite so fast. (Her disobedient body squirms in protest, wanting quite the opposite.)
"I think about you...a lot." The admission, imprecise as it is, nearly chokes her. A lot, a lot. It's -- she isn't obsessed, surely, nothing unhealthy like that, of course not, but Rose has a way of sneaking into her most casual daydreams with her tumbling curls and her wandering hands and that knife-sharp smirk that is thoroughly shredding Pearl to pieces right about now.
no subject
"I...I..."
If they keep going, just like this, Pearl doesn't know how much longer she'll be able to string words together -- and then her incoherence will just merit another punishment, won't it? The cocktail of sugar-sweet affection and gentle derision is devastating. It has Pearl lightheaded, skin prickling hot all over even where the water's not touching her.
She stares helplessly at Rose -- at the new revelations that tease her vision more with every second. No matter how many times she sees Rose's naked skin she doesn't think it'll ever stop short-circuiting her brain. Her mouth's not dry any more: it's watering. She moves her wrist again, trying to find a better angle, one that won't propel her into the danger zone quite so fast. (Her disobedient body squirms in protest, wanting quite the opposite.)
"I think about you...a lot." The admission, imprecise as it is, nearly chokes her. A lot, a lot. It's -- she isn't obsessed, surely, nothing unhealthy like that, of course not, but Rose has a way of sneaking into her most casual daydreams with her tumbling curls and her wandering hands and that knife-sharp smirk that is thoroughly shredding Pearl to pieces right about now.