The Clay Caper or I'm Putty in Your Hands
by Catherine Allan

Disclaimer: Paramount may own the series, characters and universe, but this is mine.

~~~

The Clay Caper

~~~

Odo didn't trust this, but then, he hardly trusted anyone or anything. Kira Nerys had nearly been forced to go on leave since her last breakdown had disturbed the entire Promenade. She could barely go near the O'Briens, or their new infant without bursting into tears.

The last time Kira had gone on an enforced leave, Odo recalled, a coup had been attempted which nearly succeeded in throwing Bajor into complete chaos. This time, Odo vowed within himself, she would not be going alone. He, too, officially went on leave for his own reasons, then dissapeared, as far as everyone who knew him was concerned.

He crept into Nerys' quarters in the dark, and made himself part of the sole of one of her boots. Tomorrow, he would 'escort' her to her destination, and guarantee her safety there.

* * *
Kira Nerys tried to make herself feel comfortable on a world she barely recognised. _Be proud of yourself,_ part of her urged, _you made this. You are part of Bajor's recovery._ Another piece of herself shivered, and whispered, _This is not the world I left behind._

She needed this, everyone, except Kira Nerys, agreed on that. What Kira believed she needed, however, was another matter. Her life was empty, especially since she'd left Shakkar, and she didn't feel complete without something, or someone to fill that gap in her life.

For now, she was going to try clay. At least it was cathartic, and she was able to completely mash whatever she felt was awful and begin again.

* * *
This, Odo would remember for the rest of his days, was where he made the mistake of his lifetime, or it was the moment the Prophets decided to bless him, he could never actually decide.

He hid himself as a lump of clay beside Nerys' table.

Odo watched as his beloved worked out her anger on the helpless material, bending, distorting, tearing and gouging at it. Then her fist would descend on it and she'd start anew.

Finally, tired of that particular piece, she threw it aside and reached for a new one.

Nerys seized him, fingers digging into his flesh.

Odo forced hiself to swallow his gasp of surprise. Her very skin made him want to writhe in pleasure. Odo felt himself liquefy in response to her, and was forced to exhert his will into Being a lump of clay.

Shortly after that, he began to detect her thoughts.

* * *
Kira Nerys smiled. This clay must have been warmed in the sun as she fought with the last piece, as it was warm, like a living being, underneath her hands.

It didn't seem to need as much working as the other lump, and was infinitely more pliable.

* * *
It was all he could do to stifle his noises of pleasure as her fingers manipulated his being, her hands smoothed over his form. Odo resisted shapeshifting into the form she wished to make him.

That would spoil their fun.

* * *
Her hands flew, fevered, at their work. Her clay was alive, just for her, and it seemed as if it sensed what she wanted and made itself for her.

* * *
He could barely remember to remain clay. His skin wanted to distort into a relaxed state, he needed to flow over her, help her feel how she'd made him feel.

_Nerys, my Nerys..._ his thoughts flew out to hers, unbidden, _I'm yours, forever._

* * *
Kira stopped. What an odd thing to think... She found herself staring at the little clay figure she'd made.

It was a child, arms extended to her. Supplicating.

The child had no face, nor features.

Of their own voluition, her hand caressed the absence of a face, fingers tracing over where the eyes and the nose should be.

_...please..._ begged the whisper in her mind.

She almost recognised the voice.

Her hands cradled the image of the head, thumbs easing to where the child-image should have had eyes. Gently, as if wiping away the infant's tears, she pressed her thumbs to the task of making the eyes.

The whisper turned into a groan of pleasure.

Kira Nerys began to weep. _I know you're there,_ she deliberately thought to the voice she now recognised as Odo's, _Now, why are you here?_

_Nerys._ Odo's voice sounded pleading.

The image she'd made now had a face. A suggestion of Odo's face.

The clay moved, melted, and flowed into her lap.

"I knew you'd come," Kira sighed, embracing his liquid mass, letting him caress her with slow, sensual motions, "Didn't you trust me?"

Her only reply was an inarticulate need, pent up over years, to be with her.

Something inside her head, an invisible barrier she had never felt, shattered from the pressure of that need. Something a Founder had put there, long ago, was now irretreivably broken.

As was the Founder's prophecy that Kira would never love him.

And a missing piece of her life oozed deliciously into his rightful place.

* * *
As her love, and lover.

END.

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