The Desert's Edge ➣ Gloss/OC

This stormy tempest perforates the skies,

A/N: More smut in this chapter. Skip the flashback if you'd like!

Chapter Seventeen | This stormy tempest perforates the skies,

"I talk of dreams;

Which are the children of an idle brain,

Begot of nothing but vain fantasy;

Which is as thin of substance as the air,

And more inconstant than the wind."

1.4, 96-100 Romeo and Juliet, Shakespeare

"How was your photoshoot?" Elara wonders as she flips a couple of pancakes with a spatula. She's got her hair pulled back this morning, twisted into a messy bun that would make Ignatius utterly horrified. Gloss likes it, though. He likes the way it makes her hair frame her face when small tendrils escape the style to curl around her cheekbones. It softens her in a way that makes her astoundingly lovely, especially when she stands in the little patch of sunlight that slants into the windows of her kitchen.

He grunts, filling a mug with some coffee. His own hair is just as mussed up, mainly from her running her hands through it in the way he loves so much. He's thrown on a pair of boxer briefs but nothing else, and the appreciative little glances Elara's been sending him all morning makes his heart do funny things in his chest.

"Fine," is all he says, leaning against the counter to give her a thorough look over. Her back is turned to him, so she doesn't notice the way his eyes linger on her ass. The short nightshirt she's wearing just barely covers it. He knows for a fact that she's got nothing on underneath it, which only makes him crazier.

"I've got an appointment at three today," she says. "But it's only for an hour. We could have dinner if you want?"

Dinner, breakfast, sometimes even lunch – their relationship has definitely become something more than just an occasional romp. Luckily no one seems to think it's strange for them to sometimes be seen entering and leaving each other's apartments. The tabloids like to make a fuss of it, but they've both adamantly denied any feelings that people speculate they share. The fact that they're both seen going out on 'dates' with other high ranking Capitolites certainly helps make their story more believable. That, and Cashmere's occasional presence also helps. No one has really questioned them when they claim friendship.

They are friends, after all. They're friends who sometimes have sex. There doesn't have to be anything more. Right?

Behind her, Gloss grunts, puts down the coffee mug, and steps up to her. "I've got a client tonight. Dinner and a date."

He says the words casually on purpose. He doesn't have to explain anything to her. It isn't as if he loves her or anything. Just because they sometimes turn to each other for comfort doesn't mean anything.

His body nestles behind hers, and he fits his hips against the curve of her ass with a faint smirk. She stiffens just a little bit at the feeling of his arousal jutting up against her, and drawls, "Really? I thought we were eating breakfast. I'm hungry."

He chuckles and slips his hands around her hips, pushing his fingers beneath the fabric of her shirt. "So am I," he says, but the tone of his voice makes it apparent that he isn't talking about the pancakes she's making.

"So not tonight then," she says, trying not to sound disheartened. It's relatively easy actually, because his hand is skimming down her body and cupping her between her legs, and the breathless cadence of her words help to cover up any lingering disappointment she may or may not be feeling. The prospect of spending the night alone is just boring, that's all. She likes sleeping beside him. He makes for a wonderful distraction.