We had spent the better part of a week on an uninhabited moon not unlike Dxun, though the climate was milder. Atton had found it in his travels a few years ago and had considered carving out an estate there. He was not a solitary soul, however, and had abandoned his idea of becoming a hermit. But for two newlyweds that desired only each other for company, it was ideal. The beach was beautiful, the ocean brilliantly blue, and there was plenty of fruit to supplement the Sphinx's stores. Local wildlife gave us a wide berth, and we spent hours sunbathing, splashing in the surf, and getting sand in uncomfortable places. It was six days of heaven.
The first day out of Manaan, however, had been spent flying. Atton had driven us to an isolated bit of space and handed over the controls. Twelve hours later, it was undisputed that Atton was the better pilot. He'd drilled me mercilessly, flying me through every obstacle he could find, and I'd performed well, even brilliantly, but not with his effortless genius. I simply didn't have the soul-deep love of flying that he possessed.
"You're good," he said with honest admiration, grinning widely. "Really good, in fact. It's painfully obvious, though, that flying bores you."
"I told you," I said mildly as he guided the Sphinx toward his hideaway.
"Yeah, you did," he acknowledged. "I just couldn't believe that anyone that can drive a swoop bike like you do could find flying a ship boring. I'd still love to see you in combat, though."
"I'll admit that doesn't bore me," I laughed. "I'm too busy trying to stay alive."
He looked at me thoughtfully. "That's it," he said quietly.
"What?" I asked suspiciously. He had the look in his eye that said he'd figured out something I hadn't considered, and would possibly resent.
"It's not interesting to you unless the stakes are critical," he said with a trace of triumph.
I stared at him. "Are you saying I'm a thrill junkie?" I asked with some asperity.
"Yeah," he said with look that was a mixture of amusement and respect. "That's exactly what I'm saying."
"I'm not that reckless," I retorted, but felt a sinking sensation in my gut. "I leave that sort of thing to you and Revan."
He continued to stare at me with that light in his eyes. I looked away.
"You couldn't take chances mentally," he said softly. "So you unconsciously challenged yourself physically. No one else could get hurt, and you got both some rebellion and stress relief out of your system."
The churning sensation in my stomach intensified. I couldn't look at Atton while I turned over his words in my mind. It was true, I admitted, that I felt most stimulated when I was pushing myself to the limit. I approached battle not with the fervor of Jennet or Canderous, but with the cool-headed logic I'd been taught. It was the enemy or me; therefore I will eliminate the threat. But under it, I had always felt the thrill of challenge. I don't enjoy killing, but I do enjoy how alive I feel facing the odds and winning. Fight rings and swoop racing were the closest I could get to real combat without risk of killing anyone but myself.
As a child and later during combat training, I had used physical release to balance constant mental restraint. I had no other course open to me. Except with Revan and Malak, who were already bonded to me, close friendships led to disaster, or so I believed. I was denied common ways of releasing tension; in consequence I had spent hours practicing with weapons, pitting myself against droids, often at the highest setting. And I had learned to expand my healing, to some degree because it had physical results. The challenge there had been to maximize the effect while keeping my mental shields firmly in place. When I had discovered swoop racing, it had been a revelation. This was a way to push myself to the limit without endangering anyone but myself. I could use my mental abilities and physical reflexes in tandem; it was the ultimate freedom save battle.
And, I admitted when thinking on it, I had increased the danger factor whenever I could, to keep my interest and the challenge high.
"Maybe," I said finally, looking Atton in the eye. "I'd never thought of it that way, though."
He reached for my hand and kissed the palm. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, you know," he said cheerfully. "And it's perfectly understandable. We have more in common than I'd thought." He winked at me conspiratorially.
"I'm not ashamed," I said firmly, realizing the writhing in my stomach was gone. "Just…surprised at myself, I suppose. I'm so used to analyzing every decision I make that I'm sort of stunned I hadn't come up with your conclusion on my own."
"You do understand the concept of 'unconscious', right?" Atton asked, amused. He grinned as I mock scowled at him. "I for one find your way of dealing awesomely creative. Not to mention sneaky. Here you are, such a lady, seeming so calm and proper, but what really gets you off is cheating death."
"And sex," I said solemnly. "Don't forget that."
"I never do, sweetheart." He gave me his best rogue's grin. "No wonder I fell in love with you."
He grew thoughtful, engaging autopilot and swiveling his seat to face me. I followed suit, wondering what was on his mind now. He was silent for a long moment, obviously choosing his words before speaking. When he did, his voice was gentle.
"That's why you chose Malak, isn't it?"
I stared at him, rather surprised he brought up Mak. "What do you mean?" I asked cautiously.
"Well, I've watched Revan, and how close you two are. She's an amazingly intelligent and passionate woman, not to mention talented and as strong in the Force as you are. If the three of you were that good of friends, I'd assume Malak was, too." Atton watched my face as he spoke, gauging my reaction.
"He was," I nodded, giving him a small smile. I thought I knew now what he was getting at, but let him finish his thought.
"He was powerful, too. Reckless, kept you challenged. So…" he paused, and I nodded encouragingly. "When he approached you, you two were already bonded, even if you didn't really realize that was what was going on. At the same time, he was safe. You loved him, but weren't in love with him, so it wasn't violating your vows. And he couldn't get any closer to you than he already was."
"Yes," I said, remembering. "But he didn't start it. I did."
Atton started visibly, staring at me with his mouth slightly open. He closed it with a nearly audible snap. "Well, that's something I didn't expect. Is it too nosy of me to ask why and how?"
"No," I said, shrugging. "It's sort of a long story, though."
"We appear to have time," Atton peered at the instruments theatrically. "Five hours to Coruscant."
"It won't take that long," I assured him. "Let's get something to eat."
Atton set Gizmo in the cockpit and we made ourselves lunch. As we ate, I talked, my husband listening with interest.
"We'd left the Order to join the Republic," I explained, chewing my sandwich thoughtfully. "About fifty Jedi came with us, more joined later. Revan won over the Chancellor and the military almost immediately, and assigned Malak as her second, me as the third in command."
"Were she and Malak, um, involved?" Atton asked delicately.
"No," I smiled, remembering. "Most people assumed they were, even other Jedi. But they weren't until later."
"When they decided to ally themselves with the Dark Side." Atton observed. It wasn't a question.
I nodded. "By the time I left, it was obvious they had started a sexual relationship. It made sense, even to me at the time. Besides me, they were closest to each other, and had no more rules to follow but their own."
"And that didn't bother you?" Atton asked curiously.
"Of course it did," I looked at him with surprise. "Not that they were sleeping together," I said honestly, "but that they chose each other, and were, to my eyes, slipping into darkness. I was both relieved they weren't dragging me along, and hurt that they didn't include me. Emotionally," I clarified, seeing the look on his face. "I wasn't interested in a sexual triangle of any sort."
"Good to know," he grinned briefly, then frowned. "But it must have been painful."
"It was," I said mildly. "Most things were at that time. The rape just spurred me to go before I was lost, too."
He had nothing to say about that. I was silent for a while, trying to wind the thread of the conversation back to where it had started. Atton waited patiently.
"We had been on campaign for a few months," I said quietly. "Revan had called a meeting with all her generals, and it was late in the day when everyone left. Malak and I shared a shuttle, and he took me to my ship first. We were leaving in two days to hunt a particularly wily Mandalorian general. Not Canderous," I smiled at the question I knew he was about to ask. "I was keyed up, although only Rev or Mak could really see it. He knew the best way for me to relax was to work it out physically and offered to spar."
I looked at my husband carefully, but nothing showed on his face but honest interest and curiosity. I relaxed, and continued my story.
The workout was exhilarating it always was with Malak. He was strong and quick, but I was quicker. We were about evenly matched. We parried and circled, neither gaining the advantage. He feinted left, but I didn't fall for it and was ready when his 'saber swung around, aiming for my left arm. Blades locked, I swept my foot between his ankles and caught him a solid blow that took him to one knee. He dropped and rolled swiftly, but I followed and had my blade at his throat as he came up.
He laughed delightedly, snuffing his 'saber and leaping to his feet.
"I love fighting you, Dree," he swept me into a hug, lifting me off my feet and swinging me around. "You're as much of a challenge as Rev, if not more."
He only called me Dree when we were alone. I had confessed years ago that I secretly loved the name, only pretending irritation to goad Annie. Mak, tickled by this minor deception, had immediately taken to calling me Dree in private. He grinned at me now, his arms strong around me and I laughed down into his handsome face.
"Annie's a better fighter," I admitted. "But she lets her emotions get in the way."
"True," he set me down but not moving away. He chuckled, his big hands gripping my upper arms lightly. "That's not something you do often."
"No," I agreed and looked up into his brown eyes, expecting the usual teasing light.
What I saw made my heart lodge in my throat. Normally, I would have shrugged off his grip with a laugh of my own, but I stood there, unable to make my feet move. Something was different about the look on his face. I recognized it from other men that had wanted me in their bed.
Malak's smile grew a trifle uncertain, and I stared back, suddenly uneasy. My usual reaction to that sort of look was to retreat, give him my best cold stare and the opportunity to back off. What shocked me was my own sudden stirrings of desire. I had felt it before, of course; I was eighteen, healthy, and at least intellectually aware of hormonal factors. Always before, it had been easy to ignore, to dismiss the attraction and freeze him out. Fear of losing control and inadvertently influencing another kept me from giving in.
But…this was Mak.
I knew him so well I could hear his thoughts clearly if I tuned in. I didn't now, mostly because I was afraid of what I'd hear. And how I might react. There was a heartbeat of time where we regarded each other with new eyes. In that moment, I was certain he was going to kiss me.
All this passed in an instant; the pause couldn't have been more than a second or two. Masking my confusion, I swiftly moved out of reach, feigning a cramp in my sword arm and looking for a towel to wipe my face. Grabbing one, I mopped away the sweat that was from more than simple physical exertion. I felt more than heard him sigh and snag a cloth from a nearby shelf to pat his face. When I was composed, I turned to face him. He was looking at me thoughtfully, a slight frown marring his rugged features.
"Feel better?" he asked, watching me carefully. His tone said he was asking if the workout had eased my tension; his eyes said something else.
"Yes," I lied, matching his casual tone. "Thanks." I smiled, friendly and open, using the lie to hide my turmoil. It wouldn't have fooled Revan, but Malak wasn't quite as in tune with me.
It worked. He smiled back, the moment passed, and he was simply my friend again, so completely I wondered if I had imagined the whole thing.
So why didn't I feel relieved?
With a supreme effort of will, I reigned in my unruly thoughts and allowed him to escort me to my quarters. He left with his usual peck on the cheek and jaunty wave over his shoulder, striding tall and confident down the hall toward the shuttle bay.
I got ready for bed, and meditated, trying to calm my mind and compose myself for sleep. I had a lot to do the next day to prepare for the mission. When I felt sufficiently centered, I changed gears and spent a good fifteen minutes mentally focused on prioritizing tasks and what to delegate to whom. As always, this exercise was soothing to me, a mental tidying that allowed me to rest easy.
But when I slipped under the cool sheets and closed my eyes, all I could see was Malak. Vexed with myself, I rolled onto my stomach, pummeling my pillow into a ball.
Okay, I thought as calmly as I could manage, what, exactly, happened? Nothing. He looked at me, that's all. He likes women, and I am one. It was a fluke. He probably was shocked when he realized it was me he was thinking like that about. Or, even more likely, has already forgotten all about it. I could ask him right now what he was thinking in that moment, and he would honestly have no idea what I was talking about.
Try as I might, I couldn't really believe it.
He was a part of me, like a brother, but more complicated than that. I wasn't in love with him; that much I knew. But he was closer to me than anyone but Revan, and loved me unconditionally. As I did him. I'd never considered he might be attracted to me, or I to him. I had suppressed my sexuality with a clear-headed prudence; I understood the dangers of letting people too close, if not the reason. The Masters had been relentless in pointing out my effect on the unwary.
I knew Malak wasn't a virgin, or for that matter, neither was Revan. As close as we were, I had actually felt both of them the first time they'd had sexual relations, before I managed to block my unintentional intrusion. Revan had been seventeen, with another Knight who was a close friend; Mak sixteen, with a barmaid at a seedy cantina that was expressly forbidden to Padawan.
Typical of him, I thought cynically, trying to put things into perspective. Impulsive and rebellious.
It didn't work. My mind started presenting me with images of what some of his impulses might do for me. I shoved them aside savagely and bullied my thoughts into submission.
I had, rather unwisely, told Revan what I knew. We were both fifteen at the time and I had been blindsided by the sensations I had unwillingly witnessed. Revan was the only one I trusted to sort out what I had seen and felt. Far more worldly than me on such matters, she had helped me come to grips with it, then teased Malak without revealing her source until he confessed. When she had entered the realm of earthy pleasures, I was more prepared and feigned ignorance until she had told me herself. Mak had suspected her initiation, but never questioned either of us.
Even in my youth, I understood that what Revan, Malak and I shared was different and special, and not something I should risk with anyone else. So while my two closest friends could explore their own sexuality with caution, I kept myself apart. Whatever natural curiosity I had I either suppressed or explored entirely second hand, confining myself to occasional confidences with my two best friends. The idea of sharing myself physically with anyone I had dismissed as too risky.
Until now, I admitted to myself with a sigh.
Giving up the idea of sleep, I sat up, drawing my legs to my chest and clasping my arms around them, resting my chin on my knees. I examined the situation with all the cold logic I could muster.
All right, I thought calmly. He looked at me, and I looked back. It doesn't have to mean anything. He's fairly experienced, and we're about to go into battle. Natural that he might think about relieving some of that stress with sex. I was there, and I know he hasn't had a woman in some time.
This was one of the more uncomfortable side effects of being close to Revan and Malak. While I had much more control over unwanted mental sharing than I did three years ago, I still caught snippets of private moments. Revan understood better and was able more often than not to block inadvertent intrusion. It helped that while passionate and uninhibited, she possessed a practical streak; she wasn't one to indulge herself indiscriminately. Malak, more reckless and less aware of how deep our ties ran, wasn't as careful mentally. I was glad he was more discrete than his often imprudent nature would suggest; as far as I knew he was experienced, but not a complete degenerate. He liked women a great deal, but hadn't, to be blunt, slept with every willing woman he'd come across.
That inexplicably cheered me. I chose not to examine why too closely.
I knew Malak would never deliberately hurt me, and his experience would at least ensure any sexual congress wouldn't be unpleasant. And I could trust that he wouldn't be hurt by me; we were already close enough that sex wasn't likely to bind us together any more than we already were. It would be nothing more than pleasure between friends, and neither of us would betray our vows, or become too attached.
He's safe, I thought with an attempt at clinical reason. I can experience sexual pleasure with someone I trust, someone that I know I won't hurt.
Reason wasn't helping. While I remained perfectly still, inside I was writhing with suppressed desire and confusion. The plain and simple truth was I wanted him. I hadn't really wanted anyone before and the feeling was both wonderful and terrifying.
Without stopping to think about what I was doing, I got up and dressed. Ten minutes later I was in my personal shuttle flying towards Malak's ship. Reason was now a distant memory, and I refused to think about possible rejection. I really wasn't thinking about anything at all except to see Malak and find out if that look had been real.
If the lieutenant on duty was surprised that General Windbreak was approaching his ship at nearly midnight, he didn't show it. I was greeted with respectful courtesy and rejected offers of escort with self-depreciating charm.
"You don't need to announce me," I assured him. "General Malak is expecting me."
When I reached Malak's quarters, I stopped, heart thumping painfully. What the Force was I doing? I took a deep breath and punched the door comm.
It was only a matter of moments when Malak opened the door, tying his robe and glowering.
"Dammit, Hobble, my comm works," he growled, then stopped short at the sight of me standing there. "Dree?" he said, eyebrows drawing together in puzzlement. "What's wrong? What are you doing here?"
"I…" I stared, any self-possession I had dribbling around my feet. "I'm sorry," I whispered, and turned to leave.
His hand shot out to grasp my arm, spinning me to look at him. "What's going on here, Dree?" he demanded. I could feel his irritation like buzzing insects in my head.
"I'm sorry," I said again. "I didn't mean to wake you. I just…" my voice failed me and I looked at my boots. I felt him go still, and the buzzing stop.
"What?" his voice was gentle, and it gave me courage to look up.
His warm brown eyes were puzzled, full of concern for his obviously newly insane best friend. "Are you okay?" he asked softly.
"I don't know," I said honestly. "I just…needed to see you."
"Okay…," he said, half a question. I had nothing to offer back, and he shrugged, stepped aside and let go of my arm. I followed him into his quarters.
"I wasn't asleep," he assured me, offering me a seat. I accepted, gratefully allowing my trembling knees some relief. "I was just about to have a drink before bed. Join me?"
"Thank you," I was relived that my voice was steady.
He disappeared into the small kitchen in one corner of the great room. His private rooms were nearly identical to mine, I saw, looking around. A large open concept, one corner devoted to workspace with a desk, shelving and file cabinets, a dining area near the large window, kitchen in another corner, and a sitting area apart from the rest. No holofire, though, just a vast expanse of wall dotted with shelves and a large holovid screen taking up most of the space.
I was distracting myself, and knew it. I breathed deeply, trying to regain my calm. Before I had a chance to center myself, Malak reappeared with two glasses of wine in hand. Handing one to me, he seated himself on the other end of the long couch I was occupying.
"It's not like you to show up out of the blue, Dree," Malak said quietly as I sipped my wine. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," I said automatically. "I just…was thinking too much, I guess."
I was starting to feel foolish, and wanted nothing more than to get out of here. Whatever I had thought, it was obviously wrong. I must have misunderstood the look he'd given me in the gym. Nothing showed in his manner now beyond honest concern for a good friend.
Well, I thought with a grim attempt at optimism, at least Mak is usually kind to me. If he ever figures out what I was thinking, he won't humiliate me by teasing me about it forever, like he would Revan.
The thought of telling Annie about the whole debacle made me writhe inside, but I knew she'd sense something if I didn't bury it deep enough. Regardless, I was going to have a sleepless night, alone with my self inflicted humiliation. I was tempted to make an excuse to stay, but knew it would be infinitely worse to have Mak a room away when I had come here to seduce him. Better to get out now with some dignity intact. I finished my wine, set the glass carefully on a side table, and stood.
"I'm sorry," I said for the third time. "I couldn't sleep, and thought I needed…to talk," I straightened my back and started to head toward the door. "It's going to be a busy day tomorrow; I should go." I moved as quickly as I could without looking like I was running away.
"Wait, Dree…" I heard the clink of his wine glass being set on the table and rapid footsteps, muffled by the thick carpet. I didn't turn around, afraid what he'd see on my face.
I was almost halfway there when he caught up with me. He blocked my path, gazing down into my eyes, I saw in wonder, with the same expression he'd had earlier. I stopped, meeting his stare, eyes wide. For a long moment, we were locked in silent communication. Then, not knowing what I intended until I started, I reached up and touched his cheek.
He leaned against the pressure of my palm, almost rubbing his skin against mine. His eyes closed briefly, and his mouth curved into a small, almost sweet smile. I stood on tiptoe and was a little amazed when he met me halfway.
His lips were soft and warm, and moved with infinite care against mine. When I didn't move away, he groaned softly and pulled me closer, angling his head to possess my mouth fully. He kissed me long and deep, teasing my lips with his tongue until they parted. One hand moved slowly from my waist to the back of my head, an anchor rooted in the mass of my hair, steadying me against the dizzying sensations coursing through my body. I heard a moan and dimly realized it came from me.
Malak pulled away slowly, and I would have followed if he hadn't held me so firmly. His dark eyes held mine, smoldering with heat held barely in check.
"Dree," he breathed, staring intently at my face. "I…" he swallowed, then said softly, "Is this really what you want?"
"Yes," I answered. There was so much more I wanted to say, but I couldn't find the words. I stared up at him, mute with desire and a longing I didn't really understand.
"Oh gods," he groaned, kissing my nose, my chin, my eyelids and finally my lips, increasing the pressure until I thought my knees would collapse. "I hope you don't hate me in the morning."
"Never," I think I said, but was too caught up in the taste of him to know if I had said it aloud.
His breath was sweet, tasting of wine and faintly of mint. His mouth was tender yet possessive, nibbling my lips at the corners, pressing tiny kisses along my jaw. When he took my mouth again, I felt my knees quiver, from desire or nervousness, I couldn't tell. I began to tremble and felt him go quite still. His hands moved to cradle my face and he gently tilted my head to look him in the eye.
"Ladria," his voice was almost a whisper. He so rarely called me by my full name; usually it was a teasing nickname or, of course, Dree when Revan wasn't around. The serious tone now sent a shiver down my spine. "I have to give you another chance to say no. I love you too much to take advantage."
He was absolutely serious, and I was completely stunned. The reckless, impulsive scrapegrace I knew and loved was giving me an out, trying to think this all the way through. I melted, all nervousness forgotten for the moment.
"I'm sure," I said softly. "Unless…" something occurred to me and I lowered my lashes to veil my eyes. "Unless you don't want me?" It came out a pathetic little plea and I wanted to bite my tongue.
His rich laughter made my eyes fly open and I started to pull away. He caught me back to him easily, kissing my nose first, followed by each cheekbone, my eyes, forehead, chin, and lastly my mouth with such tender fierceness I moaned again.
"Not want you?" he asked incredulously after reducing me to a puddle of jelly. "I've wanted you since you were thirteen years old, and I was a gangly fourteen without a clue."
"You were never gangly," I said, grinning. "And I'll let you know when you actually get a clue."
"Now that's my Dree," he approved. "Always putting me in my place."
"Someone has to," I said, gasping as he bent his head and nuzzled my neck.
"It's my turn," he murmured in my ear, "to turn the tables. If you're sure." He looked down at me again anxiously.
"I am," I said, and this time I kissed him.
I was woefully inexperienced, and knew it. I had spent my life avoiding even casual touch, except with a very few trusted friends. He stood very still and let me explore his mouth, responding to my tentative movements with gentle encouragement. A sound not unlike a deep purr escaped his throat and his arms tightened around me. I found myself lifted off my feet and being carried into his bedchamber, his step sure and steady, his mouth never leaving mine.
Setting me carefully on the bed, he helped me out of my boots, returning to my mouth swiftly after. Each bit of clothing was removed with exquisite care, followed by kisses and loving touches. I forgot my nervousness, my utter lack of experience, or anything except his presence and the sensations he was creating. Whispered encouragement and occasional instruction increased my confidence until I was exploring him almost as boldly as he was me. With all the tenderness and skill he had, he patiently and slowly brought me to a state of intense arousal. And when we were finally joined together, as close as two people could be, I found that my greatest fear, total loss of control and possible destruction, was nothing more than a child's shadow monster. Safe in Malak's arms, I lost myself in him, and he in me, and the world didn't end.
It had just begun.
When I finished my story, rather more edited than my memories, Atton sat thoughtfully, tracing a finger through the crumbs of his sandwich. The slight frown on his face relieved me; it meant he didn't mind sharing what he was feeling, rather than the blank look he gets when he's hiding. I looked at him clinically, seeing the familiar lines of his face in a way I hadn't before. Malak and Atton had very similar features and coloring, excepting the fact that Atton actually had hair. I wondered what that said about me and decided that while I didn't believe in coincidences, the Force being what it was, perhaps it had been helping me all along to recognize my place when the time came.
"You loved him," Atton said quietly, interrupting my thoughts.
"Yes," I nodded. "You knew that already."
"I'm glad he was good to you," his voice was subdued, and I looked at him sharply.
"Atton," I scolded, "you can't possibly be jealous of someone who died long before Revan finally killed him. Even if he had lived and been redeemed, what we had was broken. I couldn't have gone back to the way it was, or tried to make it more than it had been before."
"Not jealous, really," my husband said, shrugging. "It just…it was easier hating him. I really don't want to feel sorry for him."
"You don't have to," I said firmly. "You never even met him, there's no reason for you to feel any way about him at all."
Atton looked at me sideways. "Actually, I did know him," he said very quietly. "He was the one that gave me most of my assignments. Darth Revan's second, you see."
I stared, completely nonplussed. I don't know why I was surprised. That Atton had interacted with my old friend was something I should have considered likely. Jaq Atrand had been a highly skilled and trusted hunter, after all. And Malak had always sought the best.
Like he had wanted me, I considered. I might have made the first move as far as our sexual relationship went, but he had told me the only reason he hadn't pursued me to begin with was that Revan had threatened to castrate him if he laid a hand on me uninvited. That, and he honestly had loved me enough at the time that he wasn't interested in simple seduction. He wanted it all.
Of course, like anything associated with Malak, that wasn't simple in the slightest. "All" to his mind wasn't success in a career, love, marriage, and fat babies. It was winning the war, proving to the Council they were wrong, re-entering the Jedi Order in triumph, and having one of the youngest and most powerful Masters in history more or less permanently in his bed. He loved me, oh yes, but marriage and family was not on his mind. Nor mine, for that matter. It appealed to him that I had few choices of sexual partners, certainly; he had always had a healthy ego and didn't particularly like to share.
Malak was very pleased with himself to have attracted me, and anxious to keep me happy lest I lose interest. Better than anyone, he knew my strength of will; if I decided the arrangement wasn't working, I was likely to simply remain celibate. That, of course, had far more appeal to Mak than me moving on to another partner. But he wasn't a selfish oaf. He wanted what was best for me more than his own pleasure; that I was sure of.
After that first night, our relationship changed very subtly. Revan knew immediately we had become sexually involved; neither of us had bothered to deny it. Beyond cautioning Malak to take care not to toy with me or he'd answer to her, and me to be careful, she approved, then proceeded to behave not one bit different toward us. Malak continued to treat me as his beloved best friend in public, but there was a new intensity in private.
I was using the distraction of memory to cope with the minor bombshell Atton had dropped. With an effort, I mentally put my former lover and current husband in the same room and found that it was far easier than was comfortable. They had both been in the clutches of the Dark Side at the time, of course. It occurred to me how ruthless both of them really were. Focused, determined, and driven by demons not necessarily of their own making. Charming, handsome, practiced and attractive to women, a tendency towards recklessness, instinctive and strong in the Force. Yes, there were many similarities. Mak had been a gifted pilot, too.
"Why didn't you mention this before?" I asked curiously.
"There never seemed a good time to bring it up," Atton gazed at me steadily, brown eyes troubled and a little wary. "You have to admit there's always been way too much drama whenever Malak was in the conversation."
"I suppose so," I nodded soberly.
"I realize when I knew Malak was well after he'd crossed that line," Atton's voice was matter-of-fact. "And I only met him face to face maybe a dozen times. Our conversations weren't exactly personal. He was…unbelievably scary." There was a flash of dimple and self-depreciating grimace. "You know?"
"I have some small idea," I said dryly.
"I was useful," Atton sat back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head and eyeing me cautiously. I suddenly realized he was as worried about my reaction to talking about his time on the Dark Side as Malak's. I shifted so that he could see my eyes clearly and touched his face. He dropped his hands and reached for mine, clinging to them like a lifeline. "Lord Malak admired me; he told me I was the best hunter he knew. But I never fooled myself that he would have any mercy if I failed. He didn't care about me at all; I was a tool, no more, one that was occasionally amusing and smart enough not to curry favor. The power in him buzzed in my head like wasps. Not much frightened me by then. He did. Not as badly as Revan, though." he added as an afterthought.
"And here I am talking about him with affection, even after all he did to me," I said softly. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Atton smiled, genuinely this time, and kissed my forehead. "It's just that I can't see that powerful, melt-your-brain-with-a-look Sith Lord I knew as the considerate lover you remember. Makes my head hurt."
"Well," I said in practical tones, "there's lots of ways to deal with a headache." I scooted closer and nibbled on his ear. Smiling at his sigh of pleasure, I added, "We still have three and a half hours until we hit Coruscant."
"Not a lot of time," Atton observed, sliding out from the table and offering his hand. I stood, and he scooped me close against his chest. "But I'm very efficient."
I looked up and giggled. "That's an odd thing to say. It hardly sounds complimentary."
"Oh it is," he assured me. "I'm very good with engine efficiency. I just apply the same principal to sex. Maximum sensation; minimum time. Simple." Proving his point, he had me a quivering mess in less than ten seconds.
"Excellent example," I teased, rallying. "Want to prove your hypothesis?"
"No," he said promptly. "I'd rather just keep experimenting."
