just lie there still, and i'll get you turned on just fine

"Is this what humans call a bedside manner?"

T'Pring's inquiry is sweet, but laced with severity. She's maintained her ever-level breathing shockingly well, for all how swiftly Christine's hands are roaming over her chest and stomach, tracing careful lines with the tips of her nails over this or that contour of olive-tan flesh.

One finger sweeps over an areola. Another, hipbone.

The Vulcan's eyes follow the corners of the Human's lips with a precision that is neither laser-guided nor animal-instinctual. She's marvelous.

The slight involuntary raise of downy hair is unmistakable, though.

"Only my very best for you," Christine coos.