(no subject)
Gardenia/Kheema.
Gardenia makes soothing, shushing sounds. hands in the air in a peaceful gesture. "Relax," she murmurs.
Kheema just watches her from her corner. Eyes dark, ears low, fur on end. Gardenia slowly lowers her hands. "There doesn't even need to be penetration. What do I even have to penetrate you - "
"Have fingers," Kheema hisses. "Or could use a ting. Maybe gun, maybe stick. Have seen dese tings."
Gardenia - naked - sighs. "I don't have anything on me. And I promise not to put my fingers up your - "
Kheema shrieks, and presses her hands against her ears which already lie flat against her head. Even if Gardenia isn't a man, or very strong, she's still a human.
"I'm your friend," says Gardenia, as if she read Kheema's thoughts. "I don't want to hurt you. I just want to be close to you." She gestures at the blankets surrounding her. It's supposed to be a nest, but Kheema has seen Vesperian babies make better nests than this. Still it is tempting to lie down in it. It has been a long time since anyone last made Kheema a nest, or attempted to. She huffs loudly, and slowly crawls over to Gardenia and her mess of blankets. Gardenia chastely folds her hands in her lap. Although hairless, she still looks very soft to Kheema. And soft is safe.
"How about you touch me the way you'd like to be touched?" Gardenia offers helpfully.
Kheema goes still, but then reaches out, one furry paw scratching Gardenia behind her ear.
"Okay," says Gardenia, and moves closer, the two of them so close together now that if they both breathe in at the same time their chests will touch.
Kheema holds her breath, and prepares to claw Gardenia's face off.
But Gardenia simply reaches out, and skritches Kheema behind her ear. Kheema trembles slightly. Common doesn't come to her easily at the best of times, but now it's even worse. "Vant - " she begins, searching for words, eyes wide with helpless frustration. "How is it - nose. Nose and nose."
Gardenia seems to understand, and leans in, her pale nose brushing Kheema's broad one. Still she's got one hand scratching that sensitive patch behind Kheema's ear, and the other safely behind her own back. Kheema leans forward, her forehead resting against Gardenia's insistently.
"Should I lie down?" Gardenia whispers, and Kheema replies in Vesperian because this isn't Common. Somehow she understand anyway, and she yields, lowering herself onto the pile of blankets she's pilfered from all the ship's storage closets, even the ones that are supposed to be secret to her.
She is so strangely bald everywhere, so strangely smooth. Kheema marvels at the feeling of human skin under her hands. Never has she felt it like this, so consciously. Gardenia is sensitive in the oddest of places - how many Vesperian women would keen at the feeling of a rough palm on their breast?
In her own language it is easy to tell Gardenia how she feels, if only because there is no word for how she's feeling in Common, or in any Earth language, or really any language Gardenia speaks. She knows Gardenia is a clever girl, and the small hands cupping the back of her head, fingers twirling her fur- they tell her that Gardenia can read her thoughts in the set of her shoulders, and her smell, and the way the fur on the back of her neck stands up.
Kheema shivers. She isn't cold.
Gardenia draws her closer anyway.
Gardenia makes soothing, shushing sounds. hands in the air in a peaceful gesture. "Relax," she murmurs.
Kheema just watches her from her corner. Eyes dark, ears low, fur on end. Gardenia slowly lowers her hands. "There doesn't even need to be penetration. What do I even have to penetrate you - "
"Have fingers," Kheema hisses. "Or could use a ting. Maybe gun, maybe stick. Have seen dese tings."
Gardenia - naked - sighs. "I don't have anything on me. And I promise not to put my fingers up your - "
Kheema shrieks, and presses her hands against her ears which already lie flat against her head. Even if Gardenia isn't a man, or very strong, she's still a human.
"I'm your friend," says Gardenia, as if she read Kheema's thoughts. "I don't want to hurt you. I just want to be close to you." She gestures at the blankets surrounding her. It's supposed to be a nest, but Kheema has seen Vesperian babies make better nests than this. Still it is tempting to lie down in it. It has been a long time since anyone last made Kheema a nest, or attempted to. She huffs loudly, and slowly crawls over to Gardenia and her mess of blankets. Gardenia chastely folds her hands in her lap. Although hairless, she still looks very soft to Kheema. And soft is safe.
"How about you touch me the way you'd like to be touched?" Gardenia offers helpfully.
Kheema goes still, but then reaches out, one furry paw scratching Gardenia behind her ear.
"Okay," says Gardenia, and moves closer, the two of them so close together now that if they both breathe in at the same time their chests will touch.
Kheema holds her breath, and prepares to claw Gardenia's face off.
But Gardenia simply reaches out, and skritches Kheema behind her ear. Kheema trembles slightly. Common doesn't come to her easily at the best of times, but now it's even worse. "Vant - " she begins, searching for words, eyes wide with helpless frustration. "How is it - nose. Nose and nose."
Gardenia seems to understand, and leans in, her pale nose brushing Kheema's broad one. Still she's got one hand scratching that sensitive patch behind Kheema's ear, and the other safely behind her own back. Kheema leans forward, her forehead resting against Gardenia's insistently.
"Should I lie down?" Gardenia whispers, and Kheema replies in Vesperian because this isn't Common. Somehow she understand anyway, and she yields, lowering herself onto the pile of blankets she's pilfered from all the ship's storage closets, even the ones that are supposed to be secret to her.
She is so strangely bald everywhere, so strangely smooth. Kheema marvels at the feeling of human skin under her hands. Never has she felt it like this, so consciously. Gardenia is sensitive in the oddest of places - how many Vesperian women would keen at the feeling of a rough palm on their breast?
In her own language it is easy to tell Gardenia how she feels, if only because there is no word for how she's feeling in Common, or in any Earth language, or really any language Gardenia speaks. She knows Gardenia is a clever girl, and the small hands cupping the back of her head, fingers twirling her fur- they tell her that Gardenia can read her thoughts in the set of her shoulders, and her smell, and the way the fur on the back of her neck stands up.
Kheema shivers. She isn't cold.
Gardenia draws her closer anyway.