~By matcha cheesecake~
[Human]
Wow, Rarity has the most beautiful hands.
My smile melts away as I roll that thought in my head again, slower this time so I can taste its meaning properly. It isn't a particularly strange idea to have about a friend-- believe me, I've had way stranger ones before-- but for some reason this one hit me like a boulder to the head.
Probably because I've never noticed it before.
“Pinkie, darling, could you pass me those pliers over there?”
My eyes trace the lines of her pointing finger before I turn around to get what she asked. Her fingers always look so pale and thin, as if a single breath could break them. And yet, as she takes the pliers I hand over, I could feel the strength in her grasp. Firm, but not overpowering. It has a certain warmth to it that’s comforting, much like a soft blanket in a chilly day.
I want to drown myself in it.
“Um, Pinkie Pie?”
“Hmm?”
I look up to see the averted eyes, the uncertain smile, the red cheeks. Instinctively, I lean closer, but she clears her throat and keeps her gaze away.
“I, ah, can’t finish your necklace if you don’t let go, you know,” she said.
On the table between us are our hands. Between our hands is the pliers awkwardly squished underneath interlaced fingers.
I reluctantly let go and start fidgeting with the tools, gems, and other assorted materials in a haphazard attempt to make something out of the awkwardness. Rarity has drifted back to the sapphire and tourmaline set she is making, her lips pursed tight as she works the pliers on the wire. I furtively watch the way her knuckles would rise or fall as she grips, how her wrist would turn with each twist, how the muscles in her arm would tense then relax.
“There, all done! Now to see how it looks...” She moves behind me before I could stand, finished necklace in hand. And then, the small weight of the pendant between my breasts. And then, her long nails lightly scratching skin. And then, the hot breath against my nape...
“R-Rare, what are you--” The words got stuck on my throat as soft, moist lips press on my shoulder. She hums lightly with each kiss trailing up my neck; I have to bite my lips to keep the moans bubbling up from my pounding chest.
“You’re strangely quiet.”
“A-aah!” Unfair! Licking shouldn’t be allowed!
I grip on my new necklace in hopes of steadying myself somehow, the wires and gem edges poking my palm. My eyes roll to the back of my head as she nibbles on my earlobe, occasionally dipping the tip of her tongue for a taste, before she whispers, “This really suits you, Pinkie.”
Another moan escapes me, then another, and another, as she continues to kiss and to nibble and to lick until I am nothing more than a puddle of bliss on my seat. In the end, she has her arms around me, pale fingers kneading my shoulders.
I bow my head and plant a kiss on her wrist.
“I love you too, Rare,” was my breathy reply.