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“I can still get you off without touching you, cariño. You know that.”
Goosebumps erupt across Trinity’s skin, tiny little pinpricks of want crawling across her arms. She tilts her head just enough to meet Garcia’s eyes, and finds her staring right back at her, teeth tucked into her bottom lip, pupils black. “Yeah?” she murmurs, voice low.
“Yeah, baby,” Garcia affirms. The fingers that had been stroking at Trinity’s ribcage suddenly curl up, scratching gently down the length of it; Trinity can’t help but shiver at the touch. “I’m not the only one in this bed with hands. You still want to?”
or: trinity can't be touched. garcia talks her through it instead.
Series
- Part 2 of garsantos week 2026
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