It's not a Jedi thing, to be passionate.
Blood rushes through veins, driven by a suddenly beating heart. Heat suffuses her face, a knot tying in her stomach as soft hands run down her sides, stop at her hips, as fingertips trace tiny lines in the skin there, as hands touch every inch of her body.
It's not a Jedi thing, to love another singularly.
Warm breath touched her ear, whispered words slipping along. Promises of what was to come-promises of loving the other entirely in more than one sense of the word. Breath catches as a hand slowly dances its way up her body, across her sides, running over her shape.
It's not a Jedi thing, to get attached.
Body flushes dark with heat, with anticipation. Arms wrapped snugly around her waist, back to her lover. Feet can barely touch the floor and she finds herself whining deep in her throat, almost begging because the height difference makes every moment an agony. Keeps her from loving her partner the way her partner delights in tormenting her with.
But it's a human thing, to crave love, attachment, stability.
When they lie in bed, nothing but the sheets and bare skin, they pretend. Pretend they are not Jedi, they are not warriors. That they are no more than any other couple in the universe.
But the universe-the Force, fated this to them.