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DAX: And as for your underdeveloped imagination, I prescribe a strict regimen of exercise starting immediately.
KIRA: All right. I'll give it a try.
DAX: That's all I ask. Come on. Malko couldn't have gone far.
Kira follows Jadzia into the back room, conscious the whole time that they’re not really going anywhere -- the holosuite is only so big, after all. She’s tempted to beg off again in favor of something firmly rooted in reality, but Jadzia’s self-satisfied, approving grin is making her heart flutter in a way that is completely unbecoming of a woman of her years and experience.
Jadzia leads her to a wide couch with a low back. “Now just lie back,” Jadzia instructs as Kira sits down. “Trust me, Malko is very good with his hands.” She gives Kira a sly grin, squeezes her shoulder once, then steps back to wave the hologram over.
“I think I’ll stay like this for now, thanks,” Kira says, remaining upright.
“Then I’ll leave you to it,” Jadzia says. She winks and starts to leave, but Kira reaches out to stop her by grabbing her wrist.
“That -- that won’t be necessary,” Kira says. “It’s not like you’ll really be leaving the room anyway.” She tries to smile up at Jadzia, but she can’t quite relax her jaw enough to accomplish it. It’s not that she’s nervous, exactly, but if Jadzia disappears behind a forcefield calling itself an opaque wall, Kira will feel exceptionally silly sitting here by herself.
“All right,” says Jadzia, settling into a lounge chair across from Kira. “If it’ll make you more comfortable.”
“It will,” Kira assures her, gratitude seeping into her voice. She still feels silly, but at least she’s not alone.
Malko kneels behind her, and Kira tries not to flinch when his holographic fingers land on her shoulders. His hands feel warm on her skin, and as his thumbs press into a knot in her back, she has to admit it does feel sort of nice -- she has been carrying a lot of tension there. If any of this were real, she’s sure she’d be having a fine time, but she just can’t shake the feeling that she and Jadzia are essentially sitting in an empty room.
Jadzia, by contrast, doesn’t seem to be bothered by it at all. She’s stretched out in her chair, her head tipped back to expose the lean lines of her throat as another half-naked Trill hologram feeds her some kind of fruit. Her eyes are closed, her lips berry-stained, and Kira can’t suppress a shiver at the sight.
“Perhaps you’d like to lie back now?” murmurs a voice in Kira’s ear, making her jump. Malko has leaned in close, his lips nearly brushing the shell of her ear.
Kira jerks away from him. “Oh, no, I don’t think so,” she says, putting her hands up between them. “I’m good, really.”
“I could just continue as before then,” Malko says, leaning in and running a hand down her back, far lower than is appropriate for a back massage. Kira stands up so fast that Malko nearly topples over the back of the couch after her.
Not real, Kira tells herself.
“I’m sorry, Dax,” she tells Jadzia. “This just isn’t working for me.” She frowns, giving Jadzia a look that is supposed to be apologetic but probably comes out somewhere near harried.
“That’s okay,” says Jadzia, sounding far more understanding that she should after planning a whole holosuite trip for someone who refuses to enjoy it. “I’m sure we can come up with some way for you to enjoy this program.” She sends the holographic Trills away with a gesture, and they disappear through the hologram claiming to be a doorway.
Jadzia sits up properly in her chair, leaning forward to study Kira, a thoughtful expression on her face. Kira stands there awkwardly for a moment, then huffs out a breath and drops back down onto the couch.
Maybe they should just end the program, go have a drink at Quark’s. There’s no way to tell the time in here without asking the computer, something Jadzia would probably find disruptive, but they might have enough time for a quick game of springball. It’s not what Jadzia had had in mind for this outing, but Jadzia’s mild disappointment has got to be better than the itchy certainty of what the walls of the holosuite look like behind this illusion.
She’s just about to suggest this to Jadzia when Jadzia smirks, pushes her hair back over her shoulder, and gets to her feet. “I think I know just the thing,” she declares, moving toward Kira with a fluid, predatory grace. “If you’ll permit me some… small liberties, I think I can help you relax.”
The ambient noise in the program is eclipsed by the sudden rushing in Kira’s ears, the thumping of her heart that surely must be audible beyond her chest. Jadzia leans down over her, bracing one hand on the arm of the couch, and stops, so close to Kira that they’re almost sharing breath.
“Do you trust me, Nerys?” Jadzia murmurs.
She drags her gaze up from Jadzia’s mouth to her eyes, her throat abruptly dry. She expects to see… mirth, maybe, as if this is all a big joke and any moment now, Jadzia will throw her head back and laugh at the look on Kira’s face. What Kira finds instead is determination, the heat of desire and invitation.
“Yes,” says Kira hoarsely, and Jadzia kisses her.
Real, Kira thinks as Jadzia closes the distance between them, one hand cupping Kira’s cheek, and Kira opens up beneath her like a Bajoran night blossom.
Doctor Bashir would tell her that sensory input from holograms is no different to the brain than that of real people and objects, but Kira knows she can tell the difference. Jadzia’s skin under her roving hands is alive in a way no hologram can reproduce.
She tangles a hand in Jadzia’s loose curls as their kisses grow hungry. This, too, is real, the fire pooling in Kira’s belly at the taste of Jadzia’s mouth, the warmth of Jadzia’s arm around her waist to pull her closer.
Jadzia moves back just a fraction, her face an unspoken question as she sweeps the pad of her thumb over Kira’s cheek. Kira nods once, and Jadzia lowers her down onto the couch. She brushes a lock of hair from Kira’s face, then presses soft kisses to Kira’s mouth, to her neck, down her chest.
The couch is just long enough and wide enough for Jadzia to settle between Kira’s thighs. It was probably programmed with this exact activity in mind, Kira can’t help thinking, but Jadzia’s hands on her hips chase away any more thoughts on the subject.
Jadzia skims the hem of Kira’s dress up her thighs. Her eyes don’t leave Kira’s face, watching carefully for any trace of discomfort, as if Kira hasn’t wanted this for so long that desire feels like a permanent state of being. Finding none, Jadzia smiles, just this side of dirty, and lowers her head.
At the first touch of Jadzia’s mouth to her, Kira’s breath, already ragged with need, abandons her entirely. Jadzia is far from a novice at this particular act, and it’s barely minutes before electricity is crackling across Kira’s skin and she’s teetering on the precipice of release.
How could anything made of light feel like this, Kira thinks as she gasps and writhes below Jadzia. The adrenaline rush of free fall, tethered only by Jadzia’s eyes meeting hers. What use is imagination when reality can be this?
Jadzia is impossibly gentle afterwards, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to Kira’s trembling legs. Kira reaches for her so their lips can meet again, so she can tell Jadzia with her hands about the music singing through her veins.
Jadzia allows herself to be pulled up alongside Kira, but she stills Kira’s wandering hands by lacing their fingers together.
“Don’t you want me to--” Kira begins, but Jadzia cuts her off with a press of lips.
“Shh,” says Jadzia, tipping her head forward so she can rest her forehead against Kira’s. “Later.” An amused smile quirks the corner of her mouth. “Seven lifetimes has taught me a thing or two about patience.” She draws Kira close, their bodies flush against each other, then slides a hand into Kira’s hair and kisses her again.
It takes the chime of the computer reminding them that their holosuite time has nearly elapsed for Kira to remember where she is, that the soft couch beneath her is just photons and forcefields. Jadzia traces the line of Kira’s jaw with a fingertip, kisses her forehead, and then rolls off of the couch.
She extends a hand to Kira to help her up, but once Kira is on her feet, Jadzia doesn’t let go, reeling Kira in close. “Feeling relaxed?” Jadzia asks, a hint of smug satisfaction in her voice.
“Very,” Kira admits, feeling the tug of a grin on her lips. “I’m still not sure I see the appeal of the holosuites,” she continues, since everything they’ve just done would have been just as pleasurable and possibly more comfortable in the privacy of one of their quarters, “but this was certainly… relaxing.”
“Good,” says Jadzia. “We’ll get that imagination of yours going yet.” Jadzia takes a step back from her. “Computer--”
“Wait,” says Kira. The rest of the bar and the station beyond has been a tickle in her mind since they arrived, but it bursts into full bloom once again. The memory of Jadzia’s lips on her burns like a sun, better than she could have imagined, and she’s not sure she can just leave it here in this room.
She takes a deep breath. “I just need to know if this is -- if this was….”
“Real?” Jadzia supplies.
Kira shrugs, ducking her head a little against a flush of self-consciousness.
Jadzia smiles and slips her hand into Kira’s. “Computer, end program,” she says, never taking her eyes off of Kira’s. The Hoobishan baths ripple and evaporate, leaving the two of them standing in the bare holosuite.
Jadzia drags the tip of her tongue across her bottom lip, and then leans over and kisses Kira. It’s unhurried, languid and so sweet that Kira’s eyes flutter closed. When Jadzia withdraws, it takes a second for Kira to open her eyes again.
“Does that answer your question?” Jadzia asks once Kira has met her gaze once again.
It does.