Nami hummed softly to herself, trailing her fingers over Sarah’s bare back with unrestrained delight, pausing in curious locations to press soft, sweet kisses against her skin. It wasn’t until a kiss landed on her ribs, tickling a little burr of a laugh from her, that Sarah finally stirred to the attention.
“Love, what are you doing?” Sarah murmured, half-giggling still.
Nami let another kiss linger on that smooth, warm skin for a moment before looking up with a mischievous grin from Sarah’s side. “Are all humans speckled like this?” She dragged her fingers over another cluster of specks low in the cradle of Sarah’s hips, and noted with interest the shiver her touch here earned.
“Those are just freckles,” Sarah demurred, finally rolling over to face her, a smile soft with sleep still playing at her lips. “Plenty of humans have them. Nothing special.”
Nami hummed in acknowledgment, trailing fingers in lazy, spiraling circles over the newly-exposed skin of her front, mapping over the expanse of her ribs, the taut musculature of her abdomen, the swell of her breasts, circumnavigating the fascinating specks of color that marked her body.
Like stars, Nami thought with private fascination. Like crystalline droplets of spray from the crash of the ocean against a rocky shore. Like motes of dust drifting silently through filtered shafts of light.
She pressed her lips reverently to a cluster of these “freckles” low between her hips—delighted in Sarah’s sharp gasp at the solemn intimacy of the motion.
“Are they in the same spots on all humans?” Nami asked. When she looked up, Sarah was watching her from her pillow with a sort of muted wonder.
“No,” Sarah said after a moment. “No, they’re... in different places on everyone.”
“Very special, then,” Nami declared with a smile, leaning up to greet her for the day with a proper kiss. Because they’re yours.