When they fight it's playful, and Carth trades insults with Revan with confidence. When their words take a more intimate turn, however, that confidence disappears - the teasing smile slips from his face and he stutters, stumbling over his words, and never seems to be able to say what he means. It's frustrating. She is frustrating. And stubborn, and smart, and skilled, and beautiful... He sighs. He loves her. He'd never thought he could love anyone, or anything, after his wife died. But that was before she burst into his life, fighting her way through an army of Sith and Dark Jedi, to win the war and his heart.
Carth is all hard lines and lean muscle. As he should be - he is a soldier, after all. But for all his strength, he's gentle, too. He touches her softly, reverently, and with care, as he traces the curve of her skull and tangles fingers in her hair. She closes her eyes and waits, knowing that he needs to take his time. He still loves his wife, but he loves her, too, so she won't hurry him.
The first touch of his lips has her gasping; a soft but audible exhale of arousal.
He's out of practice, he realises, when their teeth knock together. It's been years since he's kissed anyone; touched anyone. The last time he'd held a woman in his arms, he'd been covered in his wife's blood and screaming for a medic. But kissing Revan is like kissing sunshine: it warms him up from the inside out.
He tastes of Corellian ale, all sweetness and spice. And he's trembling, she notices, when his strong hands grip her hips as if afraid she'll slip through his fingers. As she reaches out with the Force, she feels the hurricane of emotions that swirl through his mind; grief, rage, desire. But when he speaks, the only word to cross his lips is 'Revan'.
She kisses him, then, silently trying to tell to tell him that he deserves this - that she knows he'll never let go of the guilt he carries but, if he lets her, she'll share his burden. Palming her hands up his back, she feels the flex of his taught muscles as he shudders, before relaxing slightly and leaning into her. His forehead drops against hers, defeated. Cupping his face in her hands, she lifts his face to look at her. He's crying.
"I'm sorry," he whispers.
She shakes her head: It's okay.
He feels vulnerable, in that moment, which seems absurd given the weight of the Republican armour he's still wearing. But the heavy armour around his heart is gone, now - gradually stripped away by the woman standing in front of him. They've been through so much, since the first time they'd met - his voice guiding her past Sith troopers to the last escape pod on the Endar Spire - and there had been times he never thought they'd make it.
When, finally, their layers of armour and clothing have been shed, Carth hesitates. He may be strong and confident in battle, but he's tender and almost shy when it's just the two of them. The first time they lie together, he takes the time to map every inch of her, learning her body better than she'd ever bothered to until she's wet with desire. Still, she doesn't push him. Instead of pleading with him to fuck her she gently takes control, easing him onto his back.
Gratefully he settles back against the pillows, reaching one hand out to hers and interlocking their fingers. Four years is a long time to be without someone, and he's under no illusions that this time will be anything close to perfect. But Revan is here, with him, and that's all that matters.
His calloused hands hold her hips as she rides him, chasing her pleasure, as if she might leave him behind. He meets each roll of her hips, captivated staring at the raven-haired beauty above him. It's hard for him to believe that she wants him, too, and a part of him can't believe that he deserves her.
He knows now that he'll follow her anywhere she goes - he just hopes that she never asks him to stay behind.
