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“I love these so much.”
Kilana’s hands were magical, Ezri decided in the echoing reaches of her mind. Effortlessly, without a strain, or a shudder, she kept her fingers as straight as pins. As straight as pins, but with none of their hardness, or sharpness. They were loose, soft, yet she never let them crook and scrape Ezri with their long, pointed nails. Those lilac pads drifted, sweetly over Ezri’s pulsing temple, trailing from spot to spot.
“I always seem to forget how lovely they feel,” Kilana murmured into Ezri’s hair, so as not to breath into her sensitive ear. “like little dots of velvet.”
Kilana’s body was the safest place in any quadrant. Ezri lay on her chest, between her thighs, inside of her arms. She could feel her heart fluttering beside her own. Her lush curls brushed Ezri from her taut shoulders, all the way down her bared flanks. Her tail had wound itself about her ankle and the tufted tip bounced, gently upon her foot. Ezri felt as though she was being worn, like one of Kilana’s berry coloured tunics, or like a second skin. Stroked and cherished, and perfect.
Lips that had been scrubbed clean of colour and balm that evening, but all the softer in their nakedness, kissed the nape of Ezri’s neck. Ezri could almost taste them. Kilana tasted as she smelled. A delicate flavour, like a droplet of honey on stainless steel. Though Kilana’s genetically modified mouth could not carry a tune, still she hummed to Ezri. Long, low, sweet monotones, as she slowly swayed her in her arms.
“You’re fine, my beloved Trill. You’re just fine.”
Ezri could do nothing but believe her.