Chapter Text
As the door swung open to Harrow's room, Gideon had only a moment to take in the sights. She caught soft blue fairy lights running the perimeter of the ceiling, illuminating the space in electric charm. She caught little trinkets of Harrow scattered about; her bone jewelry, bottles of perfume, a tube of mascara. One time, when she was 14, she'd climbed in through the window and snuck into Harrow's old room, with the prim bedding and the stupid crucifix on the wall. This Harrow ripped away all the constraints of the past, awkwardly learning how to be herself along the way.
Gideon wasn't given another second to gawk. Harrow gripped the front of her shirt, tugging her hard into another kiss. Such a small frame somehow maneuvered her toward the bed. Then, with a solid push against her sternum, Gideon's thighs hit the mattress. Her knees bent and her hips flexed, forcing her into a half sit, half lay. She managed to prop herself up on her elbows before Harrow advanced.
Small legs forced themselves between Gideon's knees. Harrow still stood, but now she loomed, placing a hand on either side of Gideon's shoulders as she leaned in.
"Let me touch you," she demanded. After all, Harrow took what was rightfully hers. But then her lips twitched. "Please."
"You can do whatever you want," Gideon started, breathless and shocked. "I just-"
"You have the advantage on me," Harrow said, voice soft and scared. "I've never done this."
"I'm not exactly a ladykiller myself," Gideon admitted sheepishly. "I…didn't let anyone touch me."
"What?" That caught Harrow off guard. Their eyes met as she lifted a hand up, tenderly brushing it against Gideon's cheek once more. "I thought-"
"I got scared." She couldn't admit her weakness in the light. Her eyes slid shut, refusing to look at Harrow. Now was the hard part. Now was the part she'd dreaded for years, too afraid of the pain the words would drag across her throat as she whispered out her truth. She swallowed, paused, then opened her eyes once more. Tears pricked at their corners as her voice struggled to gain purchase. "I always hoped it would be you."
"Gideon." Harrow could've shattered with how frail her voice sounded. "The letter I left…I said I loved you."
"You….what?" Gideon's heart skipped. There was utterly no way in hell she heard Harrow right. There was no way in fucking hell she'd burned up a letter that admitted all the hidden glances and halted breaths of the past. All the times their younger selves stole glances and danced around a magnetism that very clearly didn't exist. Except in dreams. Except in the time they watched the stars from the trunk of Gideon's car, silent and brooding and holding all their secrets in their chests. Fighting was easier. Bickering came natural. If they constantly jabbed at one another, it didn't give their minds time to ruminate on the unspoken.
And Harrow finally said it.
"I said I was sorry for everything. I said I hated myself and hated what I did to you. I said I had to run, or that stupid town would choke the life out of me. I asked you to follow. I begged you to come with me, however you could. Because I loved you."
"Harrow…fuck…"
Hot tears fell onto Gideon's chest from above.
"All those times we fought, you never ever hit me," she whispered. "You used your size to stop me. You kept me down while I clawed and bit and kicked."
"I could've knocked you out with one punch," Gideon admitted. It was true. She hit puberty first. She was practically double Harrow's size for a good few years. A solid fist to the nose would've cursed Harrow with a deviated septum for the rest of her life, as well as a broken pride.
"I know! I know you could have. Sometimes I wanted you to, just to make the pain inside my head stop. But you never did. Why? Why did you let me hurt you?"
"If you went home with any marks," Gideon started. "I knew I'd never see you again. Your parents would kick me out of that stupid church. No one cared if I was bruised. I couldn't risk losing you, though. You were a bitch, but…you were always there."
Harrow fell forward, cupping Gideon's cheeks in her hands. It didn't take much effort to keep them both propped up, even as Harrow crawled into her lap once more. Her tears didn't stop as her kisses continued. Wet, messy, desperate kisses against Gideon's cheeks, her jaw, her temples. Years of hurt and longing and grief slid down like soft rain. The salty rivulets soaked through the fabric of Gideon's shirt, seeping into the skin below. When Gideon kissed back, hot tears anointed her lips and tongue as she drank away the suffering, leaving only adoration in its place.
"I love you too," Gideon whispered. Harrow sobbed harder, clutching tight enough to hurt. "I'm an idiot for thinking you left me behind. I could've been there for you. I could've-"
"We both could've been more," Harrow said between sniffles. "We can't change the past."
"No," Gideon murmured. "But we have right now."
"And right now I want your shirt off." Harrow finally pulled herself back, wiping the last of her tears free. Her eyes were still puffy and red as she reached for the hem of Gideon's tank top. Even with her heart laid bare, cleanly dissected down the middle to reveal all the turbulence inside, she didn't relent. "I need to feel you."
"Can't say no to a command like that," Gideon murmured. She grabbed at the fabric and easily tossed it aside, leaving her tawny torso on full display. A plain, gray sports bra covered her breasts, though stiff nipples were already making their presence known.
Harrow's gaze fell like a prayer over her. Gideon worked hard to make her body what it was. She didn't have much else, really. She could have strong arms, defined shoulders. She could have a line that ran down her belly, abs only hidden by a thin layer of softness. She could have excellent thighs and chiseled calves. And in a world that seemed to give her nothing, she could have Harrow too.
Harrow wasn't exactly gentle as she yanked against the sports bra. A solid tug popped both breasts free. The bra went over Gideon's arms and head, then across the room. Her tits weren't anything special, she thought. It might've felt nice when she touched them herself, but it wasn't her main attraction.
Harrow quickly made her rethink.
Long fingers took hold of each mound, giving them a tentative squeeze. She leaned in, kissing against Gideon's neck as she found either nipple. For all the harshness and pain Harrow could inflict, her fingers knew only softness just then. Her thumbs delicately brushed against each peak, pulling an undignified whine from Gideon's throat. Hungry lips trailed down, across clavicle and sternum, until they met one breast. Gideon thought she'd melt into a puddle at the first lick.
She always imagined sex would feel great. She made herself feel pretty good in the dark, under the covers, hidden away. Harrow exposed her to the light, though, igniting her nerves in ways she'd never predicted. What felt 'nice' before felt exquisite from Harrow. She'd only just touched her breasts, and already Gideon felt an addiction clawing at the back of her mind.
"Up," Harrow murmured, pulling away long enough to slide off of Gideon's lap. She pointed toward the top of the bed, signaling the taller woman to make herself comfortable. Before Gideon could move, though, her pants were undone efficiently and yanked clean off of her hips, leaving her only in black boxers. Cool air brushed over the wet heat between her thighs, soaked right through the fabric.
"I, uh—" Gideon glanced down at herself, flushed with embarrassment.
"Me too," Harrow said, helping Gideon to move. "Me too. Just…let me? First?" Once they'd reached the top of the bed, her hand was on Gideon's stomach again.
"At least take your shirt off first."
"Demanding." Harrow let out a breathy laugh as she pulled her on top off. Gideon had seen her thin waist and ribs before. She hadn't seen the modest swell of small breasts, capped with dark nipples. The sight alone caused a tiny whimper to fall free. She reached forward, intent on touching, but Harrow's hand encircled her wrist and pushed down.
"Soon," she murmured, climbing back over top of Gideon. "Let me, please?"
"Say 'please' like that and I'll do anything," Gideon purred, dropping her head against the pillow. Harrow didn't have time for a retort, though. Her lips were on soft breasts once more, insistent and hot as she pulled a nipple into her mouth. Gideon wrapped her big arms around Harrow, trying and failing to keep the moans from filling the room. How did one girl set her nerves ablaze?
Harrow's fingers danced further down her stomach, toward the band of her boxers. The soft tickle made Gideon giggle between breathy sighs. No one ever made her sound so uninhibited, so free. Or so needy. Gideon was not needy! She was perfectly cool and calm and cavalier and— Harrow's fingers slipped under the fabric, sliding into the slick mess of arousal between Gideon's thighs. Her thoughts screeched to a halt.
"Oh fuck—"
"You're so wet," Harrow whispered in between kisses. "You really want this, don't you?"
"For years," Gideon whined. "For fucking years."
Harrow didn't make her wait a second longer.
For never having touched a girl before, Harrow learned very fast. She slid one digit across soaked skin, testing from top to bottom in a single stroke. Long fingers teased for only a moment, gathering up a thick sheen of nectar before languidly stroking up. When Harrow found her already stiff clit, Gideon sucked in a shuddering breath. The heat in her belly had already coiled into a tight knot, stirred up from the touches and confessions. Each swipe of soft finger pad against her nerves left Gideon writhing, desperate, right on the knife's edge of begging.
Who could possibly have the audacity to make her beg? Well, Harrowhark Nonagesimus, apparently.
Gideon, thankfully, did not beg. Yet. She briefly registered saying 'don't stop' between ragged breaths. Her eyes slid shut as delirious heat blanketed her from head to toe. When she was alone, that was the point she'd let herself get carried off into bliss, basking in her own fantasies. Harrow had other plans, though. A firm grip took hold of Gideon's cheeks, forcing the woman to open her eyes once more.
"Look at me," Harrow demanded. "Stay with me. Right here."
Gideon whimpered at the demand, heat roiling up her chest and back down between her thighs. She felt utterly powerless, intoxicated by sharp tongue and sharper eyes. Harrow kept a firm grip on Gideon's jaw as she watched every reaction, every breathy whine and throaty groan. Even as Gideon's eyes threatened to roll back in her head, another firm grasp brought her right back.
"I'm close," she breathed. "Fuck, Harrow, I'm—"
"Shh. Don't speak. Just feel it. Feel me."
God fucking dammit, where did she learn to be so hot?! Gideon let out the most embarrassing, emasculating moan she'd ever made as liquid heat spilled down her limbs. Harrow had her wound up like a coil, tightening the reigns of pleasure with each stroke of measured digits. The heat grew and grew and finally, with a wet cry, Gideon shattered. The world spun down to only the pulsing, unrelenting fire between her legs, and Harrow's smug grin.
And just when she thought she'd glimpsed heaven in her pleasure, Harrow's fingers slid inside her, unrelenting as they pumped even more whimpering cries from Gideon. This time, as her eyes screwed shut, Harrow let them, releasing her jaw to resume languid kisses against one breast. Gideon desperately clung to the scrawny woman, rolling her hips and making the sorts of noises she thought were only acting. There was nothing fake about the way she cried, though. She'd never sounded so fervent in her life. The choked whine that followed would've alerted the neighbors if Harrow didn't capture her lips in a swift kiss, swallowing up all her bliss.
In all the times she imagined this moment with Harrow, she never predicted the girl would unravel her from the inside out.
The smaller woman flopped beside her, gaze never leaving Gideon's face as she slowly withdrew her fingers. She looked so fucking smug, too. Gideon had to make it even. Even if her muscles protested in their heavy, post-orgasm haze, she hadn't even fucking started.
"Last chance to turn back," Gideon huffed as she flipped herself over, pinning Harrow onto the mattress. The smugness quickly gave way to shock, all wide eyes and parted lips. But then shock gave way to desire, blown pupils, heavy breaths, a warm flush down the neck. Harrow melted against the display, laying her hands on either side of her head, submitting herself.
It looked like submission, sure. But Gideon had the feeling she'd been goaded into doing exactly what Harrow wanted. Clever bitch.
"Wouldn't dream of it," Harrow breathed, reaching up to wrap a hand around the back of Gideon's neck. Their lips crashed together once more, but this time Harrow was the one gasping and squirming. For all the control she kept in her life, meticulously planning every little detail, she couldn't account for Gideon's tenacity. Her chest rose and fell in ragged bursts, like she'd waited a lifetime for this moment.
She had, really.
Gideon descended upon her like a firestorm. Harrow might've fucked the sense out of her, but she'd give all that desire back and then some. The first kiss landed gently. Only the first. Hungry lips made quick work to trail down Harrow's neck, licking a wet trail in her path. When Harrow writhed at the touch of teeth against her skin, Gideon grew bold. She left the first mark she'd ever left upon Harrow, one blooming bruise at a time. She had the decency to leave them below the clavicle, but that was the only courtesy she'd offer. Red and purple erupted beside one breast, then another beneath its twin. When her lips took hold of one nipple, Harrow clawed against her back. The sting didn't bother her. She'd let Harrow tear ribbons into her flesh just to hear her moans. Harrow knew better than to draw blood, even as she arched her back and clasped a hand over her own mouth.
Gideon didn't relent. Her lips moved further, kissing each rib, lapping a wet trail from xiphoid to navel. Another bite, just above her hip. Then off came the pants in a clean yank, just like Harrow had given her.
Except, Harrow had no underwear on. Gideon's eyes went wide as heat struck through her like a thunderbolt.
"Holy fuck, you're bold," she breathed, giving Harrow no time to respond.
She dove between thin thighs, nuzzling her nose into soft bush. And thank god Harrow had one. The heady scent of sweat and sex left her dizzy and panting. She kissed across every inch, smearing slick honey against her cheeks and chin. Where Harrow was even and measured in her touch, Gideon was all animal desire and hunger. She latched her lips onto throbbing clit and sucked. A shrill cry filled the room as Harrow's hips lifted off the bed. Gideon got the satisfaction of hearing a wet whimper before thighs wrapped around her head, covering her ears. What she couldn't hear, though, she felt. Each cry reverberated through Harrow, trembling against Gideon's lips. Even as hands dug into her scalp and Harrow whispered a string of 'holy fuck's, Gideon didn't stop. Not until she was shaking and shuddering against her. Not until slick spilled down her chin. Not until she could feel Harrow's pulse hammering against the point where tongue met clit. Not until Harrow cried for mercy. Her lips finally relented, trailing kisses across her lover's thighs, back up her stomach and chest, until she kissed against Harrow's sweat-laced brow.
For once in her life, Gideon said nothing. She simply loomed over top of Harrow, watching the woman's breath steadily slow and even. When she lowered herself back down, Harrow tangled around her, unwilling to let go.
Minutes passed. The gentle melody of soft laughs and spent moans filled the room. Neither was in any hurry for the moment to end. Even as they lazily kissed and touched and savored, neither spoke, afraid to break the spell draped around them. In the drunken bleariness of post-sex hormones, they could pretend nothing else existed. They could pretend they were just two girls, helplessly infatuated and hungry for round two, three, five. They could just be. Not as Gideon and Harrowhark, the lonely kids with anger and tears. They were Gideon and Harrowhark, scars blossoming, old hurt easing, tomorrow stretched out before them in a mended promise.
Gideon lost count of how many times she made Harrow's eyes roll back in her head. Once wasn't enough. Eventually, once might be enough, but she had years to make up for. When she finally pried herself out of bed, her muscles barely complied. But she'd remembered there were candles burning downstairs and practically sprinted to check on them. Harrow called out once, but with barely the strength to project her voice out of the room.
The candles were, thankfully, pooled in their glasses, casting a warm glow over the living room. The documentary had long ended, switching instead to something about black holes and neutron stars. Or whatever Nona liked watching. Who knew.
Still stark naked, Gideon moved into the kitchen, keeping the lights off as she pulled cold pizza out of the fridge. All the physical exertion left her ravenous. Even as her eyelids sagged from fatigue, she still wolfed down a slice. And as she did, Harrow softly padded in behind her. She'd slipped into Gideon's tank top, the hem brushing against the tops of her thighs, keeping her modest. The sight caused Gideon to pause mid-bite, utterly smitten.
"Couldn't wait for me?" she said with a wink.
"You took too long." Harrow stepped up and leaned onto her tip-toes, kissing against Gideon's jaw. Even as she poured glasses of water and found a protein bar to nibble on, she never strayed far. When she'd gathered everything, she lifted up onto the counter, sitting just beside Gideon. A shiver ran through her from the cold granite touching against her bare thighs. Gideon turned and crowded into her space, nudging herself between Harrow's knees.
"Did you convince Nona to skip the panties?" she asked, an accusatory finger pressing into Harrow's chest. A sly grin played across Gideon's lips.
"I did not," Harrow said, grabbing the offending finger and pushing it down. "That was her doing. I…actually didn't realize it until I was already in your lap." Even in the darkness, she could see the bloom of color on Harrow's cheeks.
"So she set us up?"
"Set up what?" Harrow quirked a thin brow, giving each of Gideon's cheeks a firm squeeze. "If I remember correctly, I did all the work."
"Hey, that's not-" Before she could finish the words, Harrow's thumbs pressed down upon her lips, silencing her.
"I'm not mad," Harrow murmured. "I just find it funny. You're always so brash and bold with everyone else. But with me, you're…so gentle. You're not going to break me."
"I was afraid," Gideon said, pulling one thumb free from its hold. She kissed against the other. "Okay, yeah, I was stupid-"
"Not stupid. Scared. There's a difference." Harrow pulled her in close once more. Gideon nestled herself just under Harrow's chin, taking in a lungful of her scent. "I know this is…overwhelming. New. I don't pretend to know a thing about what I'm doing—"
"What we're doing," Gideon corrected.
"We…" Harrow's arms tightened, sealing Gideon against her. "Be serious, Gideon. Do you really want this?"
"You mean sex?" she said, with total irreverence.
"Don't be an idiot," Harrow grumbled. "You know damn well what I mean. This! With us. It's—"Words lingered in the air without Harrow even saying them. She didn't need to.
'It's more than just sex, right?'
"I know," Gideon murmured, pressing her lips into Harrow's collarbone. Silence clung in the air between them, interrupted only by the sound of Harrow's heart as Gideon pressed an ear to her chest. She felt Harrow's fingers curl through her hair, brushing over each strand like they were made of gold.
"…Is it?" Harrow's voice cracked, fear dancing at the edges.
"It's always been you," Gideon whispered. It wasn't exactly an answer. She didn't have an answer, not yet. But those words were enough for Harrow to let out a breath that'd paused in her throat. The tension dropped from her arms as her cheek nuzzled into Gideon's hair.
"Dumbass," Gideon added, for good measure.
"Idiot." She could feel Harrow's smile as she spoke.
With one swift move, she lifted Harrow into her arms, slinging the woman over her shoulder.
"Wh—! I can walk on my own, thank you!" Harrow squirmed against her, but only for a moment. Neither of them had the strength to physically protest. Plus, Gideon figured that Harrow didn't really want to protest either. She just had to be dramatic.
"Sleep now, walk tomorrow," Gideon said, carrying the smaller woman up the stairs. Once they reached the bedroom, she managed a brief glance before Harrow reached to flick the lights off. On one dresser, the one where odd bits of makeup were scattered in front of a mirror, she caught a familiar sight; the photo booth strip, still crisp and pristine, pinned against the mirror.
Harrow didn't give her a chance to mention it. They collapsed into bed, all sleepy kisses and tangled legs. When they finally settled, Harrow's back pressed to Gideon's belly, held close and snug. The last thing Gideon remembered was their breaths falling in step with one another, rhythmic and safe.
Real.