Warnings: mention of small injuries
His hands.
She always assumed they were rough and calloused, a result of a difficult childhood spent in training. She also imagined that they were cold, based on what she knew about his planet's temperature.
She was wrong.
For so long she had wondered what it would feel like to feel his hands in hers, but when her hands touched his for the first time, she found them to be soft and warm. Nothing like what she imagined.
His larger hands wrapped around her smaller ones easily. The warmth he offered was enough to make her melt. His smooth hands holding hers made her forget everything around them.
Her own hands were far from being this perfect.
Scars from kitchen accidents and battles and scabs from paper cuts and hangnails she kept bothering, all of which she often neglected to treat with even a simple bandaid. Sometimes if she grew her nails out too long, she'd bite on the ends, leaving them dreadfully uneven.
Even so, her imperfections were forgotten when his perfect hands were holding hers, refusing to let go.
Written in late 2020.