"Good," she says to that breathy answer, given as Sabrina's hips roll into the press of her fingers. She wants to tuck that lace aside, or tug her panties down entirely, sink her fingers into the slick, wet heat of her--but there'll be time for all of that later. Again and again, even. Rosie does reward her with a firmer, quicker touch, just for a moment before she takes her hand away. "I thought as much."

Somehow they get up from the couch, the mechanics of it lost in a haze of desire. But they're up, stumbling hand in hand and pressed as close as they can get as they make it out of the living room and into the hall, down and down until Rosie's hand smacks against her bedroom door and pushes it open. She nearly trips over her bookbag, tossed onto the floor in haste just that afternoon, and laughs against Sabrina's mouth as she flails a bit for balance.

It's a handful of steps to the bed after that, Rosie pulling Sabrina down, breathing out another laugh as she feels her doing the exact same thing. "We haven't worked this bit out yet, have we?" she teases, low in Sabrina's ear as she finds the clasp of her bra, just two slim hooks holding it closed. Undoing it isn't as smooth or effortless as she'd have liked, but she feels it give way beneath her fingertips after only a moment.