The first one: Please let yourself be loved. Specifically by me, but also just in general. But also please by me. Val lays her hand out on her clothed knee, palm up, a little wiggle of her fingers asking a nervous question, and lets Juliana come to her. When her hand slips into Val’s, hesitant and unsure, Val closes her fingers around Juls’, steady and reassuring like an anchor in the storm.
The second one: I need to be closer to you, because we’re not allowed to kiss right now and I need some part of my body to be tangled up in you this instant. Val’s hand lies between their bodies, her fingers fidgeting for only a few seconds before Juls’ forearm crosses into her lap. Val doesn’t even waste the time to lift her hand to place it into Juls’ hand; instead she slides her fingers up Juls’ wrist, into her palm. Juls doesn’t wait for Val’s fingertips to complete their journey to align with her own; impatient and needy, she squeezes them tight, imperfectly, mid-way. And even then it’s not close enough, so Val grasps Juls’ hand and pulls it closer still, into her own body, closer to her chest.
The third one: I want you, I can’t stop thinking about how your skin feels against mine and I can’t wait to touch you again. Val’s hand trails up Juls’ bare leg, skin against skin, high up on Juls’ thigh, with a teasing, slow confidence of someone whose fingers have walked that path there before. No barriers of cloth, no hesitance beyond making sure it stays secret and sacred, just between the two of them. Nothing but interlaced fingers and a promise of things to come, because it isn’t a question of if they’ll touch next, but where and when.
