Mira takes a sharp breath as Genevieve pulls away, blinking slowly; she just stares at her, biting her lip, eyes fixed as she sucks off her fingers. It has to be one of the hottest things Mira's ever seen.

That, or Genevieve dropping to her knees. "Jesus," she says, "you are impossible," and laughs at herself, softly, just a little, interrupted by Genevieve's hands on her. She catches at her dress with one hand to help a little, leans her shoulders against the wall to brace herself as Genevieve presses her mouth to her and she arches toward her with a groan.