Kirk pulled his head back slowly, a grin coming up to his lips. Scotty was a shy thing, it seemed. Keenser seemed the bolder of the two. He glanced to Keenser, the hand up on Scotty's neck, and boldly reached out to brush the backs of two nails lightly down over Keenser's wrist where the pollen slit was.
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James T. Kirk

January 2020

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