Varshtok took comfort. No, more than comfort, he took pleasure. Actually, we shouldn't say he, since Varshtok's gender isn't exactly male. And even the notion of gender is unclear on Varshtok's home planet of Gormshblek.
What I'm trying to say is that Varshtok liked the sensation. It was a smooth blend of desires. Like buttery bread. Like jazz.
Varhstok soaked within the warm ribbons of sensation. Varshtok's reproductive organs, a set of twenty-eight sacs containing various substances that would mix and match with the sacs of other members of the species, vibrated. Simultaneously, the portion of his body responsible for creating and maintaining a set of symbolic representations of his goals, vibrated.
The two vibration patterns were different, yet complemented each other. Like buttery bread.
Varshtok danced a while in the feeling of groove. Somehow this made more sense than continuing to contemplate the feeling, or just letting it go.
Enjivened, Varshtok flew through the gaseous nebula, the hazy atmosphere, and connected with two other members of the species. On one side -- the outside -- another set of twenty-eight sacs intermixed with Varhstok's, sloshing and swirling and jingling and tumbling. Meanwhile on the inside, whole multidimensional tables of logic and direction poured forth in streams of quantum foam-like connections.
Varshtok shuddered with joy. Taking pleasure in what we would roughly call love and lust together, Varshtok felt complete. Well, nearly.
The gaseous haze, the nebulous atmosphere surrounding Varhstok's homeworld, shuddered with the wind. As Varhstok and two other members of the species gyrated physicoromantically, the world shuddered too. And all the other members of the species felt fully the oomph of life. Oh!
Varshtok gave the sac partner a bag full of fermented planetary dust. Varshtok gave the goal partner a rare ultraviolet grain of planetary dust. They thanked Varshtok and left.