Words Get in the Way

[Author's Note: Okay, so, um, I've been twiddling with this for ages, and I think it's finally right. It IS part of the continuity I've established, but it's set well ahead of where the rest of the stories are, awhile after "Courting a Captain" in-game.

This takes place probably right after they've finished Balmorra; they left the rest of the crew somewhere comfortable to wait for them while Vacy returns to Tatooine with Corso for a companion quest. Risha would probably push for Nar Shaddaa, but Bowdaar probably wouldn't be too keen on that and they would probably end up on Coruscant as a compromise. They've finished the quest and are returning to the Penumbra.

Please be warned – this first chapter is QUITE steamy and borderline PWP. If that makes you uncomfortable, well, don't read it, and just skip ahead to the second chapter when it's posted.

Sets up and includes the companion conversation "No Walking Away."]

Vacy brushed at her jacket, though she knew it was a pointless gesture. She scowled, shuddering. "Riggs," she groused, powering up the speeder. "Let's get the hell off this dusty rock."

Corso held the speeder steady as Vacy swung her leg over, then stepped up as well, nesting his feet beside hers. He reached up with one hand, pulling her ponytail to the side, and brushed a kiss against the curve of her ear. "Right behind you, Captain," he whispered.

Her eyes widened just for a moment, and then they were off, heading back to Anchorhead. She couldn't keep still, though; sand had gotten all through her clothes and she could feel it grating against her skin, between her toes, behind her knees, anywhere there was a joint or a crease, it seemed to gather. And whenever she found a slightly-different position that eased one gritty itch, another one would present itself to torment her.

"I hate Tatooine," Vacy muttered under her breath.

"I don't know about that; it's got its charms, Captain," Corso replied, and his voice was only a little tighter than usual. He was sure enough glad he was wearing his regular armor, unlike the first time he'd ridden tandem with Vacy and they'd been in street gear. Her speeder wasn't designed for two, and having her perched on his lap was torture enough. With her fidgeting around it was even worse. He sent out a silent prayer of thanks to whoever invented durasteel.

She shifted again, and even though there were several layers actually separating them, Corso took a careful breath. He reached forward, moving his hands from his knees to her thighs, wishing he had someplace to stow his gloves so that he could run his fingers along the inner seams of her trousers. Which would make his discomfort worse, of course, but even so, it still might be worth it.

By the time they were heading through the spaceport, he could hardly breathe. With her between his legs, pressed against him, her hair brushing past his cheek, he was sure he was going to put a dent in his armor.

It didn't help when she sighed, "Stars, I can't wait to get in the shower."

Immediately his mind presented him with the image of her hair plastered to her neck and shoulders, water streaming down over her skin, lips parted as her hands rubbed sweet-smelling lather over her body. He closed his eyes, but of course that didn't matter. Thankfully the ship was right ahead, and he wrapped an arm around her waist as she braked the speeder and they both stepped down.

Vacy stowed the speeder, and as they headed up the ramp to the airlock, she was already peeling out of her jacket. Corso felt his breath catch in his throat and reached up and unsnapped the latches on his shoulderpads while Vacy keyed in the Penumbra's security code and placed her hand against the bioscanner.

The door hissed open and as they stepped inside, Corso pulled off the shoulderpads and dropped them on the floor. "Captain?" he said, slipping out of the chestguard. "You got sand in your mouth as well as everywhere else?"

She looked over at him and grinned. "No, actually. For once I had enough sense to keep my damn mouth shut."

"Good," he breathed, and the chestguard also hit the floor as he took two steps and pulled her close, his mouth slanting against hers hungrily.

Her hands slid up along his arms and over his shoulders as she pressed herself against him, ardently returning his kiss. Lips parting, her tongue caressed his, and she sighed into the embrace. With a tiny growl, she pulled back, eyes heavy-lidded. "Riggs," she whispered. "Shower."

He took a shaky breath. "Right," he said, and he wasn't sure if she was propositioning him or reminding him that she wanted to clean up. He frowned as he pulled his gloves off, and he realized he didn't care in the least. He could hear the desire darkening, deepening his voice. "Mine or yours?"

They stumbled down the hall, shedding clothing and gear as they went and just leaving it where it fell. Corso had the brief thought that maybe they should have waited to get naked until they actually made it to the refresher, but her skin was warm and soft and okay maybe a little sandy but he didn't care, not one bit, because touching her was perfection. Vacy kicked the door closed and smacked at the control panel a couple of times before a jet of water stabbed at them. His hands slid over her skin even more easily now, pushing down along her sides, and he groaned as he clutched at her hips and his mouth moved against hers. He dragged his lips away, nibbling kisses along her cheek, nipping lightly at her earlobe. "Turn around," he whispered, his voice hoarse with need.

She did, pressing back against him, palms flat against the wall of the shower. He groaned and pressed against her in response, grinding against the soft curves he found so damned irresistible. Reaching forward, he wrapped his hands around her wrists, and then pulled back, his thick, callused skin dragging over hers, so smooth and soft, up her arms to her shoulders, then down and around to cup her breasts. With a moan, she arched, and she'd had him hard for so long that he nearly came right then and there, but he clenched his teeth and focused his breathing and somewhere found reserves of control. He rubbed his hands slowly back and forth, thumbing over her nipples, and now she was writhing against him, gasping, head lolling back, her limp ponytail brushing his shoulder.

He squeezed gently, pushing forward, and when she trembled he slid one hand down over her stomach, reaching between her legs. The wetness there was smoother, slicker than the water that streamed down over them. When he heard her whimpering, he rubbed back and forth, pressing a little and she gasped again and ground against him.

Pleasure shot through him and he let out a growl of desire. He slipped his fingers between her smooth folds, found her swollen nub and ever so lightly brushed his thumb across the tip. "I want you, Vee," he managed between shaky breaths. And now instead of pushing back against him her hips were tilting forward, her right knee buckling as she thrust against his fingers.

But instead of sliding inside her, he just stroked lazily back and forth along her folds while his thumb rubbed more insistently against her. His pulse hammered even faster as she twisted, gasping, "Please," and her voice broke and he wasn't even thinking, fingers slipping inside her, his hand working back and forth, his other arm wrapped around her chest, cradling her against his body as they moved together and then she was crying out and he could feel her, warm and wet and quivering as her climax pulsed through her body.

Corso tilted his head down, draping both arms around her midsection, and slowly touched kisses along her shoulder blade. "Stay there," he whispered as he let go of her. He backed up just a little, enough to look at her, peeking over her shoulder at him. It still amazed him that she wanted him – trusted him – enough to do what he asked, for no other reason than that he asked it. An impish grin tugged at her lips and she wiggled her fine, sweet ass at him.

He couldn't help smiling at how absolutely shameless she was.

Nor could he let that kind of challenge go unanswered. His hands drifted lower, squeezing her, and he tugged at her hips, pulling her close again and nudging her to turn around to face him. She giggled, but then her breath caught when he brushed his fingertips over her core before slowly stroking her again, and he was delighted to see her eyes flutter closed as she bit down on her lower lip. She shifted, pushing her feet further apart and arching her back and to hell with this, he pulled his finger out and wrapped one arm around her lower back for support and with the other parted her lips and placed the head of his cock there, and by all the stars in the sky, he never ever got tired of seeing her fidget and push back, lifting, thrusting against him.

And when he pushed forward, sliding himself into her, somehow it solved every one of the galaxy's problems, because it was so damned right. She fit around him, hot and tight and smooth and he pulled back, fingers digging in at her hip, and then thrust in again, marveling at the feel of her. And again. A knot began to twist inside him, and with the next thrust he pulled her against him, and she moaned, low and deep in her throat.

Again. Again.

His strokes grew harder, more insistent. Faster. Her shoulders were pressed against the wall of the shower, her hands splayed out flat, and she was making these little whimpery gasps that sent fire up his spine.

Again. Again. Again.

"Vee," he groaned, feeling the pressure build. And then with a sudden burst he came, his legs quivering as he thrust up into her, again and again, gasps torn from him, and vaguely he was aware of her begging him not to stop, and then of her own shuddering delight, thrumming around him and sending new waves of pleasure to the base of his spine.

After, they rested like that for several moments, still connected, just breathing. He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her. "You are the most beautiful sight in all the galaxies," he murmured into her neck.

She chuckled, wrinkling her nose. "Wonderful man. Keep flattering me like that and you'll be stuck with me," she grinned.

He stood there silent for a little while, leaning against the shower wall with her in his arms, the water still pelting their skin. Then he took a slow, careful breath. "That's the idea." Corso lifted his head and looked at her for a long moment. "I love you, Vacy. Don't – I'm not – I know maybe you don't feel the same way. Maybe you never will. But it's got to the point that pretendin' this is just some passin' fancy of mine feels an awful lot like a lie. I can't do it. If you need me to leave, I will. But I can't pretend anymore."

He wasn't sure whether she moved first or he did, but a moment later they were pressed together again, lips seeking each other in an embrace that was as awkwardly uncertain as it was passionate. She took a breath a moment later, looking at him silently, and then ever so gently leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder.

As he held her, she still didn't say anything. He tried to tell himself that was a good thing, that at least she didn't start apologizing, or worse, laugh.

But he couldn't ignore the heavy weight that was settling into the pit of his stomach.