A/N: A little one-shot that's been rolling around in my head for a couple of weeks. Please read, review, and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing, except a gremlin, and even that is questionable.

"I am going to kill Gault."

Torian's cerulean eyes cut across at the husky threat with a contemplative glint. The fact that she had said it so calmly, so quietly, was a pretty significant measurement of her anger.

She was, at the very least, fuming.

"'If ' would be a good word to add to that," came the mild reply, punctuated by rapid blaster fire.

"Your opinion, kid."

A slight tightening around his lips as the only indication that he heard her as he almost casually tossed a cyro grenade up and over the large durasteel crates they were crouched behind. He could admit that he was fairly tempted to give the Devaronian a good crack across the jaw himself, maybe even break the con man's other horn in the process. The image was satisfying.

Gault had sworn up and down that this was one of the most lucrative bounties in the Outer Rim. Mako's connections in the Holonet had confirmed that the amount of credits offered for this gang leader's head was far higher than anything she had seen in months. Their interview with the Hutt, Yarella, on Nar Shadaa had also lent the rumor of a big payoff credibility. The Exchange wanted this Twi'lek dead and they were willing to pay handsomely for proof. A soft warning from the redheaded hunter, given as she stood over the fat crime lord's crippled bodyguards and the barrel of her blaster pointed between yellow, bulbous eyes, assured them that the credits were guaranteed upon delivery.

The infiltration had been simple enough. He hadn't been surprised at how swiftly she had made work of the security system, the numerous cameras dotting the walls of the base no much for her marksmanship; nor were the sparse, scattered guardsmen that had been posted any better, for that matter. With a ruthless efficiency, bodies dropped like felled trees. Empty, staring eyes left open as she deemed their owners unworthy of the effort to close them.

With a sharp twist of her torso, she reached around the container, one eye squinting as she took quick stock of the remaining guards. Before he had taken a breath, she had fired multiple shots, the agonized groans and screams echoing through the underground base establishing that every shot had been a direct hit. It was knowledge that made tension build in his gut.

"Shot?" he called out over the cacophony of answering blaster fire.

She didn't have to ask what he meant, her lips curving into a wry smirk as she drew slid the bolts on her pistols, releasing the steam of built-up heat.

"The red bastard should be so lucky."

He chuckled dryly, gloved finger flicking against his wrist, activating the flamethrower. The corners of his mouth still twitching, his mood lightened as he openly watched her movements. She turned and held up two fingers to him then pointed them to her left. His eyes slid down her arm, following her motion and nodding. Jerking up, the thick weight of her armor seemingly nonexistent as she sprung across the open space, she tucked her limbs in as she rolled forward before slamming her back against a console.

A shot of electricity streaked past them, leaving an acrid scent trail in its wake, and the hunter ducked, a Mando'a curse flowing past her lips.

"Haar'chak!"

Torian shook his head as he shot to his feet, spraying jets of fire out in an even horizontal arc before smoothly dropping to the balls of his feet behind the crate. The resurgence of gunfire alerted him that he hadn't made much of an impression. The following grenade he tossed, however, seemed to have a more desirable result.

As yelling and smoke mingled in the air, he pinned the hunter with a hard look.

"Nar dralshy'a."

Gun-grey eyes narrowed as she shifted her weight, the metal plate that protected her knee grinding against the icy stone of the floor where she crouched. Holstering her right blaster, Torian barely caught the look she gave him, tossing a retaliating grenade back towards the clustered bodyguards, snorting derisively at their lack of tactics. He had to give the chakaars credit for keeping the two of them pinned down for so long, though.

"Copaani mirshmure'cye, adiik?" she asked waspishly.

Torian suppressed the urge to laugh at her temper, lifting one of his broad shoulders in a shrug instead. She was almost too easy to bait.

Jerking her head sideways, she gave him a hard stare, as if she knew he was amused. He noted the muscles along the column of her neck tense as she put away her left pistol, rolling her shoulder and pulling out a large shotgun.

"Hukaat'kama."

Before he could ask, she had stood, twin orbs of flint flashing as she pulled the pump action with a decisive snap. She started to stride forward, crimson shots dancing around her without the merest show of interest on her part. Incendiary bullets sprayed from the muzzle she grasped tightly, smoothly turning left, then right, firing as her lips twisted into a feral snarl. Mercs were dropping like drugged bantha, screams echoing off the stone walls, mingling with the booms of blaster fire. Torian grinned, surging to his feet and rushing past her. His staff was a blur of motion as he charged headfirst into a clustered group.

The unforgiving metal cracked across an unfortunate twi'lek's skull before he spun, ramming the other end hard into another merc's throat. Both crumpled to the ground in heaps and Torian was already moving again, twisting to avoid both other merc's blows and the hunter's constant blasting. Suddenly, the firing stopped and Torian risked a quick glance in her direction. She had dropped the shotgun, drawing the two large pistols strapped to her hips. She didn't bother to aim, clean shots already loosed before she had even lifted her hands above her slender waist.

She had told him once that if you had to take the time to aim, you were going to be out-gunned sooner rather than later. When he had asked, she had said it was the last piece of advice her deadbeat father had given her before he had been gunned down himself in some misplaced duel of honor outside a cantina on Nar Shadaa. He hadn't brought the subject up again and she hadn't volunteered anything more on it.

He deftly sidestepped as an awkward chop of a vibroblade brought his attention back to his immediate surroundings. Snatching his head to the side, he muttered a curse under his breath.

The woman was a damned distraction.

His opponent proved to be no challenge, a swift series of harsh jabs with his staff more than enough to send the merc sprawling, unconscious. His eyes did a quick sweep, noting no other enemies nearby. The remnants of the band were withdrawing further back into the cavern, closer to their commander as he shouted orders in Huttese. He started forward, his gaze narrowed, then stopped short as a flash of red walked past him with a throaty growl.

Her arms were straight out in front of her as she opened fire, a spray of bullets and blaster beams picking up dust at her feet as she steadily walked forward. He went after her, sheathing his staff and drawing the heavy blaster rifle slung across his back in one smooth motion. He barely flinched as she took another shot, the head of a cyborg exploding just as he lifted his arm to toss a grenade. The smoking bomb clattered to the ground and Torian skidded to a halt, reaching out to stop the hunter, but she swiftly flew past him, breaking into a run with her guns poised.

The shots went off, but they were too close.

The blast sent them flying back and Torian hit the floor on his side, the momentum causing him to tumble violently across the icy expanse. He finally landed close to the durasteel crates they had been pinned behind, his back slamming into the metal container and knocking the breath from his lungs. Shaking his head roughly to clear it, the leather of his gloves scrapping against the floor as he braced his hands, pushing himself up. He looked around, mildly surprised that anything was left of the mercs.

Torian turned his head, searching for the red-haired hunter. His heart leapt to his throat when he saw her crawling towards the crate, propping herself up against it with a painful grimace. She was gasping for air, lifting shaky fingers to the earpiece that curved around the delicate shell.

"Mako...Mako, come in. Target's down and we're wounded. We're gonna need an extraction. Yeah, no blood that I know of, just get here soon, alright? Right. Out."

He rose up to his knees, then pushed himself up to his feet, stumbling towards her, only to sink back against the container and slide down to sit next to her. He was breathing as heavily as she was. She looked over at him as her hand dropped limply to her side, her head falling back to thunk dully against the metal at their backs. Wavy tendrils had escaped the confines of the tie she had captured them with, curling down to frame her face. He gave her a small smile, then started to chuckle.

"Helluva shot."

She let out a breathy laugh, then coughed, inhaling with a raspy sound.

"Tell me about it. Did I mention that I was going to kill Gault?" Her voice was had a huskier note than normal, pain lacing her words.

He ignored her attempt at humor, moving closer to her and lifting a gloved hand to peer into her eyes. Her pupils were dilated, her skin paling as he watched.

"Looks like maybe a concussion. Hurtin' anywhere else?" She opened her mouth and he pinned her with a knowing look. "Don't lie neither. Dead Mandalorians ain't worth much."

Wincing as she shifted her weight, she nodded slowly.

"Where?"

She pressed a gloved palm to her side and he frowned. He dug into the pouch at his side, pulling out a couple of syringes and kolto packs. Without even a blink, jammed one needle deep into the mesh gap between the plates of the armor that covered his thigh. He handed the other to her and she did the same, then he got to his feet again, leaning down to offer his hand to her.

"C'mon. Need to move. Safer and you need the kolto."

When she didn't argue, he knew she was in some serious pain. It was confirmed when she leaned heavily into his side and he threw her arm over his shoulders, wrapping his around her waist. He glanced around and spotted what looked to be an office or a storage room on an upper deck. Shortening his stride to match her hobbling one, they started towards the staircase. Ignoring her squawk of protest, he scooped her up in his arms, taking one step at a time.

"Just ignore my pride why don't you?" she snarked half-heartedly and he shook his head.

"Not ignoring, just disregarding for a minute."

"Same thing," she grumbled and the corners of his lips twitched.

"Hardly matters now, does it?" he asked as they reached the landing.

"Copikla, mir'sheb."

He tried to ignore the heat that traced up his spine at her use of Mando'a, but her warm fingers brushing the back of his neck as she held on to him wasn't helping, nor was the clean scent of her hair as it drifted past his nose. Neither was the placement of his hand on her shapely leg, a few scant inches from the curve of her backside. He shoved those thoughts aside as he pushed open the door with his shoulder, setting her down gently on the edge of the desk at the far side of the room, thankful that the room seemed to be heated. He strode back to shut and lock the entrance, tugging down the shade to cover the one window. No point in getting caught off guard now. When he turned back, she had shucked her gloves and was reaching towards her side to start unclasping her armor. His crossed the room and covered her hand with his.

"Let me. You'll just do more damage."

She snorted at him and he could see her struggling not to roll her eyes despite her discomfort. With a few presses of his fingers, he had her breastplate off. He had her carefully raise her arms, sending her a look of apology as she hissed in a pained breath as she lifted them over her head.

"Ni ceta, cyare," he murmured, easing the mesh under armor up and away from her torso, the endearment slipping out before he could catch it. Fortunately, it didn't seem like she had noticed.

Torian fought to keep his eyes from wandering towards the soft curve of her breasts outlined beneath the soft fabric of her t-shirt, concentrating on tearing open the pack of kolto. Carefully, he lifted the hem of the shirt and growled under his breath at the large swath of bruises that were already forming along her ribcage. He looked up to her face, his jaw set grimly.

"Won't feel too good," he warned and she shook her head with a quiet chuckle.

"Didn't feel too good when it happened either, di'kut."

The look he gave her was amused as he took off his gloves and squeezed the cold healing gel into his palm.

"You just learned Mando'a for the insults," he chided her quietly and she let out another soft laugh, the sound sending another bolt up his spine.

"Haat o'r an nuhune," she replied and he nodded with a smile.

With gentle fingers, he smeared the kolto across the purpling skin, working in small circles and starting at the waistline of her trousers. She hissed in another breath through clenched teeth, then exhaled with a relieved sigh.

"Aalar jate," she murmured and he glanced up at her.

"Feelin' better?"

"Much."

To prove her point, she lifted her arms and twisted her torso, cracking her back with a dull pop.

Still, he kept rubbing in the cool medicine, working up the slender line of her ribs, making sure to coat every inch of bruised flesh he could see. She fell silent as he worked. Torian kept his touch as professional as possible, his motions methodical. Even so, he found himself slowing in his ministrations, enjoying the feel of her soft skin beneath his fingertips. He thought he heard her make a quiet sound when his thumb grazed the underside of her breast, but he dismissed it as his imagination. He smoothed his palm down her abdomen, telling himself that he need to check for any broken or cracked ribs. When he glanced up, he caught her staring at him with an expression he wasn't expecting.

Her eyes were wide and curious, but something else, something heated, simmered just below the stormy surface and Torian swallowed hard. He wasn't a kid, but he'd never been on the receiving end of a look like that. His hand stilled as he watched her eyes. Experimentally, he brushed his thumb along the silky flesh of her navel, intrigued by the slight hitch to her breathing. When he did it again, he knew for certain that this time when she bit her lip, it had nothing to do with pain. Torian fought back a groan when the pink flesh reappeared fuller and slightly moist, the armor covering his groin suddenly far too tight for his comfort.

The hands that she had kept resting at her sides lifted and Torian held his breath as her fingertips ghosted across his jaw, the touch light as a butterfly.

"Torian," his name crept past her lips so softly he barely heard her.

He realized then that he had unconsciously shifted closer to her, his hand sliding around the curve of her waist as her fingertips found their way towards the shell of his ear. His heart rate sped up as she softly traced it with the soft pads of her fingers, moving to skim the sensitive skin just beneath it. Then she whispered something else, one that set his blood to pounding, drowning out any other sound, any thought he had evaporating.

"Me'copaani?"

His eyes went so dark they could have been black. With a muttered oath, he closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to hers. Her mouth moved silkily against his, her tongue darting out to taste his bottom lip, making a low sound vibrate in his chest.

Torian felt like he was on fire. The reality of what was happening sent flames licking through his veins to pool low in his belly. He angled his head, deepening the kiss and she parted her lips for him. Their lips melded, parted, came together again, his tongue slipping out to tangle with hers. He tightened his grip around her waist as he felt her teeth nip at his lips lightly, making him groan. Stars, but she tasted good. Blood was roaring loudly in his ears and he felt her hands cup his face, her fingers stroking the stubbled skin of his cheeks as one of his own tangled in her hair, holding her closer.

His hands slid down to grip her hips possessively as she leaned into his kiss, their lips touching, dancing away, only to return, until neither of them could tell where one ended and another began. She moaned when his mouth skimmed down her jaw, to kiss down her neck, his arms wrapping around her waist once more and she arched into him, gasping when he nipped at her collarbone. She threaded her fingers through the dusky strands of his hair, letting her head fall back as his mouth did wicked, wicked things against the exposed skin of her throat.

"Torian…" she whispered and his hands flexed against the soft cotton of her t-shirt in response to the huskiness of her tone. Didn't she understand what the sound of her saying his name that way did to him?

He felt her fingers busily pressing against the buckles that held his chest piece in place, hardly noticing the loss of its heavy weight as it dropped to the floor with a dull thud, instead focused on how her body molded to the hard planes of his. Her palms smoothed over the rough mesh of his under armor before he pulled back long enough to rip it over his head, reaching out to snugly fit her against him once more. Her lips were pliant under his, the taste of her intoxicating, addictive as she boldly sucked on his tongue. His hand snaked its way beneath the hem of her shirt, his palm smoothing over the skin of her stomach heatedly. Torian tore his mouth from hers to kiss a trail of fire down the column of her neck before moving back just enough to look down into her with a hooded gaze. Dark blue orbs blazed down at her and he leaned close to her ear.

"Say it again," he growled, a low rumble that sent a shiver chasing down her spine. She arched up into him and whispered his name once more. He leaned his face closer, their breath mingling as his lips hovered above hers.

She writhed against him as his hand moved beneath her shirt, tracing the curve of one breast with calloused fingers. He nipped and licked a hot trail down to the portion of her chest that wasn't hidden by her shirt. Frustrated by the offending article of clothing that concealed what he desired to see and touch, Torian released her, pulling the shirt up and over her head. Then her hands were at the buckles that kept his lower armor in place. Nimbly, she undid them one by one as he pulled down the collar of her shirt, his mouth blazing across her shoulder. Then he was tugging the shirt over her head, his diving down to the slopes of her breasts, his tongue caressing the pale flesh making her moan. Within a moment, his torso was bare without him realizing how she'd managed to tear the cloth from him, gooseflesh pebbling along the corded muscle when her fingers traced across the defined muscles of his chest. She scraped her thumbnails lightly against his nipples and he shuddered as he leaned between her thighs.

He pulled her breast-band away from her chest.

"Mesh'la," he murmured, enjoying how her cheeks flushed at the compliment.

As she explored his upper body, Torian worshiped hers. He dipped his head again, swirling his tongue around one coral bud before taking it into his mouth and suckling hard. She cried out and he felt his already straining manhood twitch painfully against his trousers. He switched to the other, drunk on the taste and scent of her soft skin.

Not wanting him to have the upper hand, she reached between them, slithering her fingers beneath his armor to stroke her palm firmly against his hardness through the cloth prison of his trousers. Torian's hips bucked involuntarily and he growled a warning, making her smile wickedly as she wrapped her long legs around his narrow hips. She did it again and he groaned, the hot tension in his stomach flaring. When he began to kiss his way back up her body, she slipped her fingers past the band of his trousers and ran them from base to tip. His head jerked up and he hissed a breath between his teeth.

"Burk'yc, cyare," he managed to grate out hoarsely.

"Have I ever done anything else?" she murmured as she rained butterfly kisses along his jaw. A strained sound was his only response, because those damnably clever fingers of hers had wrapped themselves around him and were squeezing in an easy rhythm that was steadily driving him mad. The feather-light touch of her lips grazing his chest only intensified what her hands were up to and he couldn't hold back the moan of pleasure when her tongue flicked at a nipple. She pushed him back, lowering her body and worked her mouth further down his abdomen, letting her tongue glide where her hands had been only moments before.

With nimble fingers, she made swift work of the buckles that held up his lower armor, sliding them down as her tongue played in the hollow of his hip. Torian let his head fall back as her fingertips skimmed the dark trail that lead to his hard desire for her, his own fingers tangling in her hair. His hips bucked when her lips bushed against the very tip of him, letting out a low guttural sound as he felt her tongue flick out to tease him. She helped him out of his boots, then stood straight, her hand closing around his throbbing length as she leaned into him, her mouth finding his in a searing kiss. His hands cupped the soft heaviness of her breasts, his thumbs swiping over the pebbled tips and making her shiver.

Then his hands were moving lower, grazing the smooth skin of her waist as he pushed her back against the desk. His hands slipped around to her rear, squeezing the perfect rounded curve of her rear as she stroked him again. He bit her neck hard, leaving a mark that he soothed with his tongue, her moan making him feel dizzy with lust. Torian shoved her trousers down her slender thighs and she shimmied against him, losing her trousers and boots in a single motion, her body involuntarily grinding against his erection and his hands gripped her now bared hips tightly. Her lips curved devilishly and she slid her arms up around his neck, bringing his mouth down to hers and undulating her body against him. The hot friction was too much and he slid his hands down to her legs, lifting them to wrap around his hips again.

"Enough," he growled, gripping her hips and entered her with one sharp upward thrust, both of them moaning against the others lips at how intense it felt. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and leaned her forehead against his, clearly grateful that he waited for her body to adjust even as she knew his own instincts screamed at him to move. After a moment of just savoring the feel of her tight heat around him, she initiated, rocking her hips forward. He groaned out her name and she tried to move again, but his hands kept her still.

"Parer, cyare," he panted.

Finally, after what seemed like an age, he pulled his hips back and thrust forward, then again, and again, gradually finding a rhythm. The room became filled with the sounds of their combined moans, whispered endearments in both Basic and Mando'a. Neither had to understand the other to know what was said. She moved with him,and Torian felt the hot tingling in the base of his spine that signaled he was close. His tongue brushed against the pulse point in her throat, then dipped back against her lips, as he propped her against the desk, using the leverage to free one of his hands and rub against the small bundle of nerves that made her moan into his mouth.

"Torian!" she gasped as she peaked, trembling, wave after wave pulsing through the tight walls that engulfed him. Torian felt the heat in his lower abdomen tightening as her inner muscles squeezed around his length. He began to pump his hips hard and fast. The tension that had been building in him suddenly exploded and he called out her name as he reached his own climax, thrusting erratically a few times as his release hit him with force.

Panting heavily, he leaned his forehead against hers, easing out of her and kissing her lips softly as his fingers drawing lazy circles on her back.

"Cyar'ika," she spoke against his lips, the word making a warm bubble pop in his chest as he pulled her just a little closer.

"Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, cyare," he replied quietly and she smiled up at him in that crooked way that had drawn him to her in the first place.

He quirked a brow at her as her fingers played with the strands at the nape of his neck. Pressing his mouth against her hair for a brief moment, they parted and started to pull on their scattered clothing. As he buckled the last clasp on his armor, he glanced back at her over his shoulder.

"Still going to kill Gault?"

She chuckled.

"It'll be quicker than I'd initially planned," she replied, drawing one of her blasters and looking down the barrel with a critical eye.

He smirked, moving to stand behind her and wrap his arms loosely around her waist. He leaned down to whisper something in her ear and her lips curved into a wicked smile.

"On the other hand, that sounds like a much more entertaining idea."

Mando'a Translations:

Haar'chak - damn it!

Nar dralshy'a - Put your back into it!

Copaani mirshmure'cye,adriik - Are you looking for a smack in the face, idiot?

Hukaat'kama! - Watch my six!

Copikla, mir'sheb - Cute, smartass.

Ni ceta, cyare - I'm sorry, beloved.

di'kut - another word for idiot

Haat o'r an nuhune - There's truth in all jokes.

Aalar jate - That feels good.

Me'copaani - Do you want me?

Mesh'la - beautiful

Burk'yc - Dangerous

Parer - wait

Cyar'ika - an endearment

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum - I love you