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“I’m so fucking glad I finally have you all to myself for a while,” Ianthe purred, relishing the words as much as the feeling behind them. What could she say? Harrow was eternally in demand, however much they both often wished she wasn’t, and so it felt very much like an achievement to have captured her girlfriend for her own nefarious purposes for however long she could make it last. “No Gonad hamming it up and vying for your attention, no Sixth needing to discuss some scheme that little old me can’t be privy to… Just us. It’s nice, isn’t it?” She batted her eyelashes at Harrow, slow and sultry, a near perfect replica of Coronabeth when she wanted something from someone.
Harrow was less moved by that gesture than Ianthe would have liked.
“You know I hate it when you call Griddle that,” she replied, in a deeply unromantic manner. “She’s… still adjusting to us spending more time together, I think. There’s little choice but to get used to the way she is.” Her eyes, too, stared into Ianthe’s with hardly any heat at all. At least Ianthe could see that much instead of having to look through a veil, but she’d never been satisfied with half measures.
“Ugh, forget about Goblin for a minute. This isn’t about her at all. Quite the opposite. This is about the absence of her, and all the activities that allows. Not that I would be bothered by an audience, mind you, but all the jealous wailing and challenges to duels would make it challenging to get anything done.” She leaned in closer, enough that she didn’t see the repressed, dead fish sort of look that always made her want to sink her teeth into Harrow’s skin and pull. Ianthe nosed along her throat, felt the juddering of her pulse with flesh and necromancy alike. The points of the bone studs punched through Harrow’s ear grazed Ianthe’s skin as she moved up to place a kiss behind it.
A little shudder ran through Harrow. Ianthe liked that. She liked it even better when she felt arms wrap tight around her, trapping their bodies against each other. She hummed softly, conveying without words how pleased she was that Harrow wasn’t being quite as skittish about physical contact as she often was. It had taken a good few months, but maybe she was finally getting that impossible nunlet to learn the meaning of letting loose.
“Well,” Harrowhark said, like she was about to launch into a lecture dry and technical enough for Sextus to be proud of. Still no understanding of atmosphere when it didn’t include bone decor. Ianthe had little to no interest in talking for the time being. She’d have to remedy the situation. Which she did right away by pressing her lips roughly to Harrow’s, uncaring about the fact that she was inevitably going to smear her paint. That fell under the category of girlfriend privileges, she thought.
“Stop talking,” she mumbled after her tongue had finished a thorough investigation of Harrow’s mouth, both of them tasting of blood and face paint. She might have heard herself panting a little. “I need this. So do you, probably, before you regress and erase all this progress I’ve made with you.”
“I think you’re the only one who considers it particularly important progress, Tridentarius. Try not to overinflate your ego too much.” Oh, too late, she wanted to say. Her ego was already inflated to a very healthy degree from hearing Harrow pant shallowly into her ear, just as affected by their makeout session as Ianthe herself was.
“You don’t find it important? You don’t feel more self-actualized and confident in yourself now that you know how to… well, it might be a little too generous to say go after what you want—you’ll never be the one chasing the ladies. Maybe that was weeded out of the Ninth gene pool entirely by the time you were born. Now that you know how to accept others’ affections, in that case.” Ianthe pouted her paint-smeared lips, taking another leaf out of Corona’s book. Harrow, of course, couldn’t stand Corona, so imitating her wasn’t likely to win her any prizes, but that was what made it funnier. “If you’re going to act as if having gotten a proper girlfriend you didn’t know from the cradle is unimportant, you’re going to wound my feelings irreparably.”
“Girlfriend?” Harrow echoed, like she’d instead named an obscure necromantic theorem she wanted to race to the nearest library to look up.
“Yes? Is that term somehow objectionable to you? I hardly thought you’d prefer lover. Partner is way too stuffy, don’t even think about it. How about sister?”
“The term isn’t the pertinent issue. You can’t just decide unilaterally that we’re in a relationship without telling me.” To her credit, Harrow looked dead serious about it, not a hint of mirth in her expression. Thanks to the smeared paint, Ianthe thought she could almost see her blushing. And, of course, there was the trustworthy racing of her heart.
Despite all of that, she asked, “Are you joking, Harry? This would be a hell of a time to suddenly develop a sense of humor.”
“No, I’m not joking. I know you have fun messing around like this, but a relationship is a mutual commitment. There’s a meaning behind it. It’s… more than just kissing in empty rooms,” Harrow muttered. The hardness of her gaze splintered and she looked away. Ianthe was half-waiting for her to append an “I think” to the end of that. Emperor knew she had no real prior experience to draw from.
“I’m not joking either. Not this time. I… thought it was obvious and we were on the same page. We’ve done more than just kissing in empty rooms. I don’t share a bed with any pathetic girl who crosses my path. I don’t align myself with anyone who isn’t worthy of it.” Or who didn’t serve her ends in some way, but there was no need to add that part aloud. “I… do care about you, Harry. And I’ve thought we were girlfriends all this time, so if you’re going to break up with me now, I’ll have no choice but to do something unspeakably horrible to you in exchange for humiliating me.”
“Alright, alright. I’m not breaking up with you,” Harrow said slowly. “I still don’t think it can be considered breaking up versus rejecting you, but I have no interest in doing so either way. If this is dating, then yes. I’m interested in continuing.”
“I’m interested in continuing,” Ianthe repeated in a mocking imitation of Harrow’s voice. Mostly to hide her own embarrassment and trembling hands. “We have a lot of work left to do with you, Harry. Can’t believe you were so damn slow on the draw.”
“Shall I kiss you again to make up for it?”