The Desert's Edge ➣ Gloss/OC

And rarely sees the tender press of dawn;

Chapter Warning!  Smut ahead

Chapter Fifty Eight | And rarely sees the tender press of dawn;

"O Fortune, Fortune! All men call thee fickle.

If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him

That is renowned for faith? Be fickle, Fortune,

For then I hope thou wilt not keep him long

But send him back."

3.5, 60-64 Romeo and Juliet, Shakespeare

"Are you feeling better?" he asks her, eyes half lidded as he peers at Elara from the other end of the bathtub. Their legs are tangled around each other in the cramped space. Her Capitol apartment doesn't have much in the way of bathroom accommodations, but he can't find it in himself to complain even though he's a little uncomfortable in this small tub. He's a muscled Career Victor who is far too tall and hulking for such a tiny space, which is somewhat amusing to Elara. He isn't blind to said amusement.

Before she can answer his question, he nudges her with his knee and mutters, "Shut up, Winston. I can practically hear your thoughts."

She purses her lips but isn't able to hide her smirk, and makes no attempt at keeping the humor from her voice when she drawls, "This was your idea, Gloss."

When he scoffs at her and rolls his eyes, she grins.

"I am feeling better though," she tells him, leaning back and lifting her arms behind her head. The movement stretches out her upper body, but the copious amount of bubble bath she'd added to the water hides most of it from his view. He thinks it's rather unfortunate.

He makes an unimpressed sound in the back of his throat and looks down at her as if he's trying to will the bubbles away with the sheer force of his eyes. If anything, Elara is even more amused at his efforts. He isn't even trying to be subtle about his ogling of her, but to be perfectly honest, she rather likes it. She's never found her body to be overly attractive. She's too thin and petite, and her breasts are too small and her form is too sharp. But under Gloss's attentive stare, she feels like the most beautiful creature in existence.

He frowns and raises his eyes to hers. The petulant expression on his face makes her snicker.

"What's wrong?" she wonders, even though she knows full well.

He's aware of her knowledge too – one look at her smirking face is enough – and glowers, "Why did you put so much bubble bath in here? Is this supposed to be some kind of torture?"

His blatant admission of his obvious thoughts makes her turn her face into her hand and laugh. She hums, curling her shin around his thigh. His eyes blaze warningly at her, but he isn't surprised at all when she ignores said warning.

"You said you wanted to take a bath," she reasons with a shrug, and coyly tilts her head at him as her eyes delve over his chest. "If it was up to me, I'd have already had you at least twice by now."

He inhales deeply at this. His emblazoned gaze only darkens, sweeping her up in a look that is full of stagnant desire.

"...At least twice?" he repeats, fingers flexing over the sides of the tub. He sits up, looking like he's seconds from dragging her forward. There is a predatory gleam in his eye that makes her shiver, and she sinks deeper into the water as if she's hoping that it will save her from the aftermath of her teasing. Still, she can't stop the wicked smirk that edges crassly over her mouth.