Pearl's so tense from the waiting and the noises and, oh, what is Rose doing -- she flinches as the mattress shifts under her, the sudden nearness of Rose's body like static electricity between them. But no mocking reproach comes, no playfully chastising blow. Instead: just the soft brush of Rose's lips against her back, tracing the faint line of her spine. Her skin's so sensitized by now that she feels every touch clearly. It's a kind of torture in its own way, and despite her determination to keep still, Pearl arches into the sensation with a little moan.

But then Rose is speaking, her voice low and sweet, the exhale of her breath gentling across the twitching muscles in Pearl's back, and with an effort she makes herself comprehend the words.

Rose is so tender with her under it all, so caring and so careful, and she could almost cry (she doesn't). Her throat works for a moment, not choking back tears but piecing together her yes, the words threading their way out thin but clear: "Yes, this is good, thank you."

She turns her head -- finds that she still can't see Rose at this angle -- but her lips part anyway, seizing the opportunity.

"Um, can...can you maybe.."

The request stutters halfway into a shy pause.