When no answer comes, Pearl's eyes, squinted with self-consciousness, scurry back towards Garnet -- just in time to see the oh-so deliberate drag of fingers across dark skin, leaving a faint, glistening trail behind. Her shoulders square up in utter mortification, and even caught up in the scenario as she is, it's hard to shake the thought that she could've gone and gotten her a paper towel, or, or something.

Hard for all of three seconds, at least, until Garnet goes and says that last part. Pearl's body instinctively snaps upright to brace itself, though she hasn't a clue what for, only that distinct prick of honey-dripping dread in her abdomen. And she knows she shouldn't, but she can't help but blurt: "What--"

-- before being cut off by the sound of her own moan. Oh-- oh, oh, that's her foot, the heel of Garnet's bare foot is rubbing over her clit, on their living room carpet, and as mouth-watering gorgeous as the friction is, Pearl can't help but wince.

"Garnet," she whines, "that's dirty," but it's too boneless to serve as any real protest.