Work Text:
Warmth. Their body is pressed against Kate's, solid and warm.
Kate's fingers find their skin. Long, rough fingers. They are calloused, likely from years of work, and from memories long forgotten, that still seem to linger beneath the surface.
Osgood's skin is soft, beneath her rough fingers. Soft and pinkish, warm and golden. Their back is scattered with the most beautiful moles and freckles, and Kate wonders how long it would take to count them all. At least an hour, she thinks.
She pulls her closer, skin against skin, and then closer still. So close. So, so close that Petronella Osgood is the only thing she knows. Close enough that they consume every one of Kate's senses, all at once, and then consumes still. Her brain, her mind, thought by thought by thought, all filled to the brim with her Osgood.
Their arms bring comfort, wound around her as if a lifeline. It feels like she's drowning. Down, down, deeper into the unknown, and Kate is running out of breath.
And then they pull back, as the sun shines in through the curtains, and Osgood is gone.
She tells herself that it can never happen again. Something in her hopes it does.