Come Home, Sweetie

Gal Ritchie calls Ariel X over to the new place like nothing's wrong. Door opens, small talk dies quick. Ariel's eyes hit the stack of unpaid bills on the counter, then the bare fridge. She keeps her mouth shut, won't bruise the kid's pride. But the silence stretches too long. Gal's shoulders drop. She admits the place is swallowing her whole. Can't make rent, can't keep food in the fridge. Maybe she moved out too soon. Maybe she wants to come home. Ariel straightens, nods once, pride cutting through the tension. She tells Gal it's brave as hell to ask. The words hang heavy between them, then heat crawls up Gal's neck when she says she's always looked up to Ariel. How strong she is. How good. The air thickens. They lean in at the same time. Hands find skin. Breathing turns ragged. Ariel's mouth lands on Gal's before either can stop it, and the homecoming turns filthy fast. Gal's not just moving back in—she's getting fucked into the new arrangement before she even packs a box.