"I-- nn--" Biting her lip through a whimper, Pearl shifts beneath Garnet's foot: back arched, chin tipped back, knees angling up. It's hard to say much of anything when her body's so shamefully pliable, devouring any drop of friction it can get heedless of reason.

It feels-- weird, nothing like Garnet's fingers and yet still unmistakably Garnet. Her toe is thicker and cruder but works against her with the same effortless familiarity, and god she's been barefoot and this is not remotely sanitary, but look at her greedily bucking her hips up into the contact all the same.

Even with her head tilt back and her eyes screwed shut, Pearl can still feel Garnet's eyes on her, all over. Heat swarms over her skin, alerting her to every micro-reaction of her body: the curling of her toes, the flaring of her nostrils, the taut muscles in her stomach and her chest -- her chest, rubbing up against her summer blouse with the curve of her back, the featherlight friction mercilessly teasing her tight-pinched nipples. (And the fabric's so thin -- she's sure Garnet can see. The whole of her on display.)

"I know," Pearl finds the words at last, scattered between breathless little mewls and gasps. "I deserve this."