My body was weak with recovery. Sensations all felt too loud, noises too much, colors too overwhelming. I knew it would come back, in time, but it didn't make me feel better about the poison that had seeped from me into Vette and Quinn. This was the third day since the ritual, and I was finally feeling better. Now, all I really wanted to do was to return home and make things right. With Vette. With Quinn.
No more scurrying around. Equal parts shame and disgust filled me up as I wondered what Quinn might say, but whatever it was I knew it had to be said. My feelings could no longer be ignored, and I'd been unfair to him. Unkind, even. I'd said some awful things, and thought worse, because I'd been lost in my own self-pity. Jaesa continued to tell me that it wasn't my fault, it was Baras. It was all Baras.
That didn't make me feel any better.
My heart began to thump as I saw our ship through the small looking glass of my cruiser. I felt Quinn near, though...he felt odd now. Stunted.
"Something feels wrong," I mumbled with my eyes half-closed.
Jaesa made a noise from the other seat.
"I sense it too," she agreed, "but it could just be your absence. There are a lot of people on that ship that miss you, master."
"No, I mean..."
I didn't want to tell her it was Quinn who felt odd. He felt...choppy. The feeling of him was normally a raging river, strong, reassuring, constant. Now, it was as if large rocks had risen up in that river, which made the whole thing feel like a stream instead, trickling, desperate to push through but unable to.
That was strange.
"There are a lot of things that may feel unfamiliar to you, master," Jaesa coached me. "I don't pretend to be a swordmaster, but in the Force, you know I am proficient. Take it slow. Trust your feelings. They will not fail you."
"And the bad stuff?"
"We will meditate on these sensations and come together to discuss them."
I huffed in, huffed out.
Jaesa's face transformed into a wide smile.
"Nervous?" she asked, her tone full of warmth and laughter.
"Yeah," I told her.
The craft moved in through our hangar, docked. She stood, put a hand on my shoulder.
"Don't be. Just talk to him. I'm sure he'll understand."
It was embarrassing that she knew he was the source of most of my anxiety. Vette, I knew. Inside and out, I knew her. She knew me. She was part of me, a sister. Quinn, I knew there were sides to that I didn't know. He'd kept it that way, and I felt shy.
Anxious.
Partly angry.
A lot of things.
"And if he doesn't?" I finally asked, peering out the window to see Quinn, Pierce, and Vette lining up to greet us.
"Then he doesn't love you," was her reply, "and he never has."
A shooting pain passed through me like I'd been impaled by a lightsaber, but the intensity passed. The words spoken so plainly pained me, but made them seem less threatening. Plus, her smile never wavered. She seemed confident we'd work it out, and she hadn't led me astray thus far. I'd have to trust her.
"I'm sure what you feel is real, master. All you can do is try to work it out. Do not worry what he feels. Now is the time for you to be true to yourself and your feelings. Remember that. It will give you resolve. This is what you need to heal."
I breathed in, breathed out.
My legs like jelly, I disembarked from the ship, still feeling physically exhausted from whatever had happened during the ritual. My legs struggled to keep pace with my Jedi friend, but I had to to save face.
Vette ran up to greet Jaesa, not me.
It hurt.
"Welcome home!" she cried out, smiling wide.
"I heard you were ill," Jaesa replied warmly. "Are you well now?"
"Yup! All better!"
The two hugged, and Jaesa stepped back. She glanced at me, then back at my little green friend. We met eyes, both of our smiles small. We hadn't spoken since our argument on Taris, not really.
"Vette, I-"
"Well, I'm very busy," she interrupted me, glancing at Jaesa as if I hadn't spoken. "Glad you're both home."
With that, she scurried away, nearly running out of the hangar. Feeling like I'd been slapped, I just stood there.
"I deserve that," I mumbled under my breath to Jaesa.
"There will be a time, master," Jaesa reminded me. "Take it slow."
With that, she took a step forward and greeted Quinn, whose eyes seemed transfixed on me. I felt my face grow hot with the desperate look on his face, and somewhere far off I registered that he'd been looking at me like that for months now.
I'd been blinded to it.
I was an idiot.
Pierce said something. I spared him one glance, murmured a word.
Then, I took a step forward to greet Quinn.
But he was curt.
"My lord, I'd like a word in the cockpit."
With that, without waiting for a reply, he turned on his heel and left. Pierce made an "ooh" noise, nudging me as Jaesa made her way into the ship after him. I just stood there, feeling disappointed and thoroughly rejected. I must have been awful to them, and I hated that most of the last few months were a blur now. Not impossible to remember, but it took effort.
"Ouch," I muttered, crossing my arms. "I've been an ass, then, haven't I?"
"Maybe, but it's a good ass, ma'am, and that's your right."
My blush returned, and I glanced at the man, who looked down at me with an alarmingly gentle expression that made me do a double-take.
"Lieutenant..." I mumbled, surprised.
One of his hands reached out and cupped my elbow. The motion wasn't invasive, but it was confident and deliberate, so opposite Quinn's half-measures.
"Ya'lright?" he asked me with that gentle tone that made me feel warm inside.
I brought my opposite hand up to pat his once.
"Yeah...yeah, thanks."
"Ya'sure?"
I looked back towards where Quinn had gone, furrowed my brow. There was some knowledge in Pierce's voice.
"Yeah, why?"
"Your lord and savior called," Pierce told me.
My gaze flipped to him, my eyes sharp.
"Baras?"
"Yeah."
"Are you okay?" I cried out, stepping towards the man. "Is the Captain okay? What happened?"
"Don't worry about us, ma'am, nothing to worry about it. Was you he wanted."
I pursed my lips. I knew why, and so did Jaesa. It didn't surprise me that he'd call to rant and rave, but I cursed that I hadn't been there to intercept his wrath.
"He was pissing angry," Pierce told me. "Not sure what about. What'd you do? Break the rules? Now that doesn't sound like you, does it?"
A real smile broke through the tension on my face now, one I was grateful for. I brought my hand up to his again, this time squeezed his hand.
"In all seriousness, though," Pierce began again. "I wouldn't mind if you told me what you did so I could avoid not doing it in the future. Wouldn't want to end up on Baras' hit list because of politics."
I hesitated now, unsure of myself. But Pierce wasn't a dim man. He was actually quite perceptive.
"Or would you rather get a lecture with your tail between your legs?" he went on, fully taking note of my reservations without addressing them.
I swallowed.
"The tail one," I told him grimly. "At least, I should."
Like my words carried some final weight, Pierce removed himself from me, stepped back. All in all, the behavior was actually pretty gracious, which endeared me to him quite a bit. I felt some measure of guilt at the way Pierce looked at me, but we both were willing to smile at each other anyway, which, all in all, felt like a small victory.
"I get it," the Lieutenant told me, raising his hands in surrender. "Just know you can talk to me any time, my lord. And, good luck with Captain Lecture."
I flashed him a weary smile before heading directly to the cockpit door, where I noticed the door was locked. That seemed odd.
Vette walked by. I perked up, hoping she'd stop to talk, but her eyes were downcast.
"Oh, yeah, he's been locked in there for like...a week or something. I think he might be sick. Just thought you should know."
She scurried off again, and I felt my chest sink.
They weren't going to make it easy.
Raising my hand to knock, I jumped when the door slid open. There he was, Quinn, so close that we nearly bumped into each other.
"Captain..." I whispered, sheepishly lowering my hand. "Where are you going? I thought you wanted a word."
"You were taking too long," he replied, his tone the same way it was in the hangar.
Firm, curt, almost formal. Not at all casual or familiar.
I felt my heart sink.
"I'm sorry. I'm not...entirely well," I admitted to him.
His eyes flitted into mine, but only briefly. Something was off about him, but I couldn't place it. Something behind his eyes.
"What happened?" he demanded impatiently, crossing his arms.
I glanced over my shoulders.
"I will be well again soon," I told him vaguely.
It wasn't an answer.
"That's it?" he asked me.
Now, it was my turn to squirm, but I didn't say anything.
Quinn turned back to step further into the room, but not before I saw a scowl grow on his face as he turned away at the last second. The expression was so full of anger and derision that I had the sense to shut and seal the door behind me, locking it. The attitude was so distinctly out of character that I couldn't let it slide.
"Are you alright?" I whispered to him, feeling trepidation for the first time in all the months I'd known him.
Like a little girl.
"Thank you for your attention," Quinn quipped, ignoring the question.
His tone was so formal, as if he was reading off a series of orders to a stranger. He wouldn't look at me.
"I must officially request to be reassigned," he muttered out.
I finally looked him over. A shadow was growing on his jaw, and his uniform was in disarray. Odd. He'd polished his boots, which was a stark contrast to his messy hair and his eyes, which also had bags over them. My jaw went slack, and my abdomen clenched. I felt cold bile rise up inside of me and it began to pump throughout my extremities, making them cold too.
I thought of Jaesa's words.
"Then he doesn't love you, and he never has."
He didn't love me. It was a mistake.
I searched his face for subterfuge and just saw more signs of fatigue. His hair was slightly askew, bags were beneath his eyes. He'd thought a lot about this.
It felt like a punch to the gut. I couldn't breathe.
"Why?" was all I managed.
My eyes were steady on his, but he looked everywhere but at me. I didn't understand why he wouldn't look at me.
"Why do you want to go?" I pressed, my voice hardening.
"For the sake of...for..."
Then, as if ripping a veil from a window, he tore the curtain down with a snarl, his eyes finally shooting daggers into the back of my skull.
"You know what? No. Fuck it."
This was new.
Fire.
"Excuse me?" I asked, tilting my head, crossing my arms.
He was normally so organized, controlled, tightly wound up.
I'd heard him yell only a few times, but he'd never cursed so openly in front of me, despite the fact that I knew he did among his peers. I'd heard him talk to other soldiers, and the difference always hurt me.
His lack of censorship now was jarring.
"I said, 'Fuck it!', my lord!" he shouted, leaning in towards my face so closely that I felt his breath. "Is that clear enough for you?"
"Fuck what?"
He turned away, looked anywhere else, again.
"Fuck this!" he ranted. "Fuck you!"
"Fuck me?" I repeated back, rising to this challenge easily.
Rage was easy. Rage I could deal with.
"Fuck off, more like it!" I shouted at him. "What the fuck is your problem?"
"My problem?" he repeated.
He began to wear lines into the cockpit floor where he paced, the motions seemingly well-practiced, as if he'd done it a hundred times.
"What's your problem?" he raved at the air, throwing up his hands.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I cried out.
"I think you know, my lord!"
"No," I snapped, "I don't!"
"And whose fault is that? You're not some innocent little Academy girl fresh out of the ranks! Are you that blind? Are you that stupid?"
"I'm not - what is your problem?" I defended, thrown off guard by the intensity of his rage. "Don't talk to me like that!"
This was starting to really hurt now.
And it was not what I had been expecting. I saw from the panic lurking behind his eyes that this wasn't what he'd been expecting either, but it was too late. We were here. Still, it was easy to get my temper up, and something inside of me pushed me forward, as if to suggest this was long overdue.
"Where is this coming from?" I shouted at him.
"I've held back long enough!" the man shouted, turning towards me again. "I've been too rigid, too inflexible! And look where it's gotten us! I can't even stand to be in the same room as you without-without..."
He yelled out, throwing up his arms.
"You've done this to me, my lord! This is unprofessional! Are you happy?"
"That's awfully convenient for you!" I shouted back, leaning in to him. "It's my fault you have feelings for me! If only I wasn't me, you wouldn't act this way, say these things! It's my problem you can't keep your feelings in check!"
He repeated my last few words, blinking with enraged disbelief.
"You have no idea how I've kept my feelings in check!"
"What feelings?" I mocked, pushing him lightly.
He whirled around to face me, actually shoved me back.
Oh ho, did that piss me off!
I pushed him harder, and he pushed me too. We pushed each other until both of us actually yelled just to yell in each other's faces, giving up before it got out of hand, which it would.
"You're an idiot!" I shrieked, clenching my fists.
"Sorry?" he asked.
"I said you're a bloody idiot, Captain! I'm not a mind reader!"
"Yes, my lord, you are, actually!" he growled at me. "That's literally part of your job description! You lie and murder and steal and trick people into doing what you want, what Baras wants! You use people to get under their skin, keep them on edge!"
Ouch.
I recoiled a little. My insides threw up a small emotional shield, and, meager as it was, I felt myself growing cold to this side of him pretty damn quick.
"You've kissed me, I resisted! You've flirted, I've resisted! You've flung Pierce at me, and I've resisted! Well, I can't do it any longer! I won't do it any longer!"
Everything pulled hard to starboard, but there was a rock in the way.
I wanted to abandon ship, but it was too late.
We were going to sink. This was happening. All of a sudden, this conversation was happening.
It was a lot angrier than I thought it would be.
"I can't - I can't be here with you anymore, my lord!" he ground out, clenching and unclenching his fists. "It's killing me! You're killing me! If I've ever meant anything to you, you'll approve my reassignment and we can just - just move on from this!"
"So you'll just leave? Don't you even want an explanation?"
"I fear any explanation would be inadequate, my lord," he sneered.
"Don't call me that!" I shouted. "I hate it when you call me that!"
"Then don't call me Captain!"
"What do you want me to call you?"
"By my name! Speak to me as the friend you claim me to be! Haven't I made it obvious enough by now that I've wanted at least that much?"
"NO!" I cried out, shrugging hysterically.
The single word interrupted space and time, and all of a sudden everything slowed down. Except my breathing.
"You haven't made it obvious!" I continued. "Nothing about your behavior or your language is obvious! You are cold...and calculated...and..."
My voice cracked now, and the tears in my throat broke me somewhat, to my shame. I swallowed it down, hard, but I wasn't going to cry about this anymore.
I ignored the flickering behind his eyes out of the corner of my eyes.
"You're using me like a toy, and I can't do it anymore," he growled, so quietly and so honestly that I didn't even know what to do with the information.
It wasn't wrong, and I was ashamed. But I was using him in an entirely different way than he thought. He wasn't a toy.
"I thought you indifferent to me," I confessed, hanging my head.
"Then you're the idiot," was his reply.
This bothered me.
"Not that you've bothered to get to know me," he raved. "You thought I liked men, after all..."
My face colored, but I wouldn't be mocked after all the crap he'd just slung in my face.
"Is it so hard to believe?"
"How could you think that?"
"I've kissed you, you thick man! Are you stupid? I basically begged for it, as pathetic as that behavior was, and what did you do? Nothing! What have you ever done about it? Nothing!"
"And what was I supposed to do?" he snapped back breathlessly. "I can't just have sex with a Sith Lord!"
"Is that all I am to you?" I breathed back.
His eyes snapped to mine, wider now with self-censure.
"What? No! That's not what I meant!"
"But that's what you said. That's what you've always said."
He stood tall, as if the words were a slap in the face, as if they were a douse of cold water.
"Not once have I felt sure that I was special to you! I haven't felt even one time that you've really wanted to go above and beyond your work to - to see me. To just look at me and see me."
We stared at each other then, and it seemed as if there wasn't enough oxygen in the room for either of us. The room had gotten very quiet, and he was hunched over, as if my words affected him, as if the words made the temperature of the room fifteen degrees cooler than it was. He shivered.
"What's so complicated, Quinn?"
He clenched his eyes closed now, turned away.
"I...I couldn't...I..."
He threw his fist at the metal wall.
"You don't understand!"
"Then explain it to me!"
"I can't!"
"Why not?"
"I just can't!"
"I don't know why you can't just...tell me how you really feel," I finally confessed. "I'm not a Sith Lord or an alien, I'm a woman. A person."
"I know that..." he breathed out, glancing at me.
"Do you? Because I've just been so desperate for you to look at me for years and you won't."
He pressed his palms into the metal on the wall, leaned against it.
"It...this isn't right," he told the wall.
"Why not? Because I'm an alien?"
"No."
"Then because I'm a Sith Lord? What does that have to do with anything?"
"You're a target! People use this kind of thing to make officers do things! Make you do things! Can you honestly say that if I was in trouble you'd do your duty instead of helping me? Because I can't! If you were in trouble, I would...I..."
"But that's my decision! Why won't you just be honest with me?"
This was the crux of all of our issues, which gave it power and intensity and heat that I hadn't expected.
"Just look at me!" I pleaded.
He finally did. Back and forth, back and forth between my eyes. He blinked. We breathed. He looked at me. There was an expression on his face I'd never seen before.
"Am I really just an alien to you?" I wondered honestly, not believing for a moment that this was irrelevant.
I tried to take a breath in. Couldn't. I saw heartbreak in his eyes. He waited a long time before reaching for me. I turned my head, took a step back.
"My..." he stopped himself from repeating the title. "Wil..."
I clenched my eyes shut against the endearment. It felt too late now. I felt exposed, unknowingly exposed, and now I was sure he'd turn away in disgust.
"I need to know," I pressed. "Malavai. Am I just some Sith? Are you afraid of me? Do you think I see you as a tool? Do you see me as just a pretty animal with fangs? Because I..."
Tears broke into my voice with every word. The air was becoming impossible to breathe.
"I never meant to...I never meant..."
No, this was not about tears. This was about me. About healing.
"I didn't know how you felt..." I told him. "I didn't realize...I really didn't. I thought - hoped, maybe - that you liked the way I looked. Because it made me feel good when you looked at me."
I swallowed the tears again, stared at the air between us.
He didn't answer for a long time. When I looked back up at him, he was still staring at me, seeing me.
I felt like I could die.
"I am...compromised..." he finally confessed to me.
His tone had shifted. It was pleading now, small. I didn't know what to do, but I was rooted to the spot. He wanted me to interrupt. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what this meant.
"Thoughts of you...haunt me."
"What do you -?"
"I fantasize about you, and it distracts me. I can't stop it anymore. My feelings for you are..."
My heart pounded. My palms were clammy. My ears rang. All I saw were his eyes. So blazing. So intense.
"Feelings?" I whispered.
"My feelings for you have affected my ability to...concentrate."
His eyes were unflinchingly intense now, indiscernible but overwhelming. I wanted to look away but couldn't.
Still, he stood tall, swallowed. Grimaced before whispering,
"I cannot, in good conscience, continue to serve. I can't. I just..."
His voice finally broke, and he looked down.
"I must go. You must send me away. Please. This cannot go on."
Hurt coursed through my veins as I saw the pain I'd caused in his eyes. I felt all that he was in the Force, loud, intense, on fire. It was glorious and raw. Like a live wire had tethered us was just switched on, I sensed all of him and was in awe. That was why this hurt so bad. Just now was I sensing all that I should have before, but it was too late, all too late. I felt it in the pain that flowed from him. I could hardly bear it. After all this, our relationship would just be one big missed opportunity, one big "what if?"
I'd regret it forever.
But he would have his way, and that would be that.
"Okay..." I tried.
I reached out to him, the tips of my fingers ghosting against the bones on his cheeks.
His cheeks were soft like petals but the stubble on his face was scruffy but pleasantly sharp. Immediately, Malavai's eyes drew half-shut, his pupils nearly rolling back into his head as if I'd delivered some unearthly pleasure. A soft moan escaped his lips as he reached up with closed eyes to grip my fingers, which had tried to pull back.
He wanted them there.
My heart raced as I reached out to touch him in the Force, and I finally understood that he was desperately unhappy, more than I would have thought possible.
That wasn't what I wanted for him. I just wanted him to be happy.
"Okay," I repeated, nodding, understanding reaching my voice.
I tried to smile at him. Couldn't.
Still, it felt good to have it all out in the open, felt good to try.
"I want you to be here..." I admitted tearfully, sliding my fingers from his grip.
At the last second, I felt his fingers tense again, as if to stop me, but I was determined.
I swallowed hard. Something was behind his eyes now. Something else.
"I think you would be safest and most powerful at my side. Together, we could defeat any enemy. That is what I believe. But...I respect you too much to make you do anything."
I tried to smile again. Felt my lip wobble. I cleared the tears from my throat, quelling the ball that kept rising there.
"If you insist on reassignment, it would be...a shame."
The word didn't do it justice. A tragedy. A travesty. A mistake.
His choice, I told myself.
"I can't protect you if you're far away," I muttered, taking my hands in each other to prevent myself from touching him again.
"It's not I who needs protection, my lord," he whispered, head hung low, tears finally breaking into his voice. "You're the one who..."
He trailed off. If I didn't know any better, I'd say the words carried anguish, and something in his energy spiked at this. I ached for him.
"If you can't take the heat," I consoled gently, "I wouldn't blame you. Wouldn't judge you. It's okay. I know being my officer hasn't been exactly...easy...for you."
By the stars, this hurt.
I loved him so much.
There, it was out.
And now it was too late.
"I'd grant your request," I mumbled, barely able to make words work. "You can go wherever you want. I wouldn't stop you."
I tried to smile again, and this time his eyes saw it. We took turns looking at each other before looking away, another game we played.
I was tired of games.
"You're free to do whatever you want," I rambled on. "You're a free man who will do as you please. Whatever that is, with me or otherwise. That's what I want for you."
Finally, our eyes locked and he just blinked.
His jaw clenched, his nostrils flared, a brief scowl lit on his face, as if tormented indecision passed through him. A great battle took place behind his eyes as I saw something mounting, that same small thing which was now a big thing. He opened his mouth, and his breathing hitched.
"I'm an idiot," he whispered to me.
My brain didn't register this. I was in too much pain. Still, the switch was a bit confusing.
I opened my mouth to speak, but he interrupted.
"No, I'm an idiot."
I tilted my head, but he reached forward, grabbing at me like I was a lifeline.
That was new.
He yanked me forward so hard that my flesh - breasts, pelvis, and all - was drawn flush against him. I cried out at the unexpected forcefulness of it, my eyes growing wide. This close, I smelled his soap, a musk of wilderness with sweet after-tones. I saw the intricate lines on his face, worry lines on his forehead, crinkles near his cheeks where a rare smile had left its mark, small, faded scars around his eyes that I'd never noticed from far away. His eyes were a hazel color, and the yellowish browns ended where the bright greens began. His eyes were really beautiful. My hands gripped at the fabric of his uniform. It was worn, faded, disheveled, but it felt soft and warm under my hands. His muscles twitched as my finger tips roved over him like I was marveling an expensive and delicate object, and even though it seemed there wasn't even an inch to spare between us, he tugged me in tighter still.
My heart skipped. Was this really happening? Was I dreaming?
Those eyes searched my face like my skin had a hidden treasure hidden inside of it. His gaze was wild, his breath hot and moist against my cheek, down my neck under my ear. His eyes were ferocious, almost feral, but I noticed he wasn't meeting my gaze. Instead, his dilated pupils were focused lower on my face, close to where my open mouth was huffing, trying to catch my breath. Suddenly, he leaned in for a microsecond, the tiniest glimpse of a moment, before clenching his eyes shut tight, as if he couldn't hold back. He kept them closed, wincing occasionally as my fingers moved up to cup the side of his face, as they roved down to lightly finger the hair around his jaw. Only then did I feel his chest heave against mine. We were otherwise so still that I felt his heart racing in his chest against me, and the vibrations and the throbbing of it drove me crazy. The way space and time stood still pushed us closer and closer to the edge.
He opened his mouth to speak, but a hysterical croaking came out that sounded distinctly foreign from his lips.
"Sorry?" I whispered, my mouth so close to his that the breath on my lips created moisture.
"I want something..." he confessed in a choked voice, the pitch up and down.
Still, his eyes were clenched shut. I felt him try, and fail, to slow down his breathing, but it wasn't the only thing that was beginning to rise. Pressed up close against him, I felt every inch of his body, and I felt the shaft between his legs twitch into the fabric that blocked our skin from just touching already.
I let out a nervous huff of air, more to let off steam than anything else, which caused his eyes to pop open, search mine.
I suddenly felt very exposed, and my eyes were wide.
"I...won't tolerate being teased," I told him, hoping to sound firm.
Really, I sounded like a girl begging for him not to break my heart.
"I don't play games, Wil," he breathed into me. "You should know that by now."
The longer I was pressed up against him, the easier it was to forget about everything else and to obsess over how good his chest felt, how hard his cock was, how much I'd dreamt about this for so long that thinking about it almost made me cry. His body felt even better than it looked, if that were possible. A chiseled Imperial war hero, here, in my ship, clearly wanting me, an alien, a former slave.
If someone had told me five years ago this was where I'd end up, I would have punched them in the mouth.
Still, the itch that had grown inside of me at his twitching grew and grew into an unbearable aching as long moments passed and yet he did not move. He hesitated.
"I swear, Malavai," I breathed into his mouth, "if you ask for permission to kiss me, I'm going to-"
He crashed his lips into mine with a ferocity that was unmatched by any kiss that had ever come before it. Heat filled me immediately as his teeth nibbled against my mouth, as his tongue skirted across the rounded edges to offer up the secret password only it knew. He moaned into that kiss as my lips parted to meet him, a feral, guttural sound, erotic with heat and passion I had never known him to possess. Every time our lips parted and then found one another again, he made a sound, which turned the itch inside of me into a dripping wet aching that I couldn't resist anymore. I'd forgotten why I'd ever wanted to.
I felt the bulge between his legs lengthen even more under his uniform as he backed me into the far wall of the cockpit, slamming our hips together post-haste. He put his hand underneath my hair where my horns might collide to prevent me from hurting myself, and for some reason the gentle, implicit gesture of awareness of me drove me crazy.
The aching was a sensation that I'd long since missed and forgotten, and it trickled downwards through my neck, down my spine. Like feeding a wire through a feed, once the connection was made, the power of the connection surged, and I felt the swelling inside of me begin to pulse, louder, harder, faster. It settled somewhere between my legs and below my hips as his hands roved up to the curvature in my back to press me even closer up against him. His fingers curled into my shirt, which stretched the thin cloth tight as he clung harder and harder to the one thing that kept his hands from making contact.
I couldn't think, but I didn't want to think. I couldn't breathe, but I didn't want to breathe.
I wanted Mal, and that was all that mattered suddenly. And we were moving very fast, at the speed of sound. And his lips were so deeply entrenched in mine that I wondered where his ended and mine began. It didn't matter. We were together, linked, one, and I felt that some special thing, some alive magic, coursed from his lips to mine and it only increased the steady flow of hot, sticky warmth that was now quickly becoming unbearable all around my center.
I could have cried. I could have shouted, sang songs about it, but my throat wouldn't move. Plus, my lips were thoroughly occupied, deep inside of his mouth. It all added to that little magic seed that his kisses had planted, and everything fed the tingling inside of me. It was so overwhelming and surreal that I no longer knew what to do.
My fingers found his hair, and, like I was remembering other sensations, I began to explore more of him. His neck. The pulse beneath his ear. His shoulders, his chest. Maker, his chest was firm. Like blooming flowers, I spread my fingers wide, splaying them across his chest, and he moaned into my mouth. I thought I heard him mumble, "Don't stop!" into my mouth, but our lips never did, so I couldn't be sure.
I began to lose myself in the electricity that flowed all through me now. My fingers tingled. I couldn't see. I was dizzy. I wanted this. I needed this.
We needed this.
He gripped down my thighs to yank them up around his waist, where he dragged me over to the cockpit's dashboard. Once, just once, he gyrated into me, bringing that bulging, twitching member to dig into the bundle of nerves just outside of my center. The kiss deepened as I cried out into his mouth, reaching for his clothes, reaching to get him out of them, for anything, just to make that connection, just to feel him inside of me when-
Mid-kiss, I heard him struggle to speak, the words catching in my mouth.
"Wait!" he whispered, leaning his forehead against my cheek. "Dammit, wait! I need to-we have to stop..."
He breathed, in and out, in and out. His hands slid with obvious reluctance to my hips, where they squeezed momentarily and then planted themselves firmly, unmoving. He breathed down my back, down my shoulders, and I did the same. We were heaving like we'd just run the hardest race of our lives, and I realized how dizzy I was. I felt more than saw him step back from me, where I felt cold in his absence.
Sense shuffled back in all too slowly, and the enormity of what just happened splashed over me. Neither of us moved. Suddenly stiff, we remained, side by side, locked in this position, flirting with danger, wanting to go back, trying not to. Then, I unfurled my legs from around his waist, looking to either side but not at him. He stepped back, hands in his hair, huffing like he needed to control his breathing.
I still felt the pulsing, that need that he'd woken up with just a look.
"Why?" I breathed into the cockpit, feeling sloshy trepidation pierce through my voice.
Was I bad at it? It had been a while, but he'd been with loads of women, I was sure of it. Women were always looking at him, hitting on him. What he did in his private time was none of my business. This line of thinking got out of hand in a split second, and I felt ashamed at how readily I'd jumped right in, feeling fear at how easily it was just to get lost in it, to drown in it. He was going to leave, after all. This was silly. Stupid.
I put a hand on my chest, feeling little and small.
He didn't like it. I was an alien. He'd never been with an alien, I was sure. Our anatomy was the same, but what did that matter? I had horns and red skin.
I clenched my eyes shut now, feeling the desperation from before inside of me sour quickly into something I wanted to be ashamed of.
This all happened in a split second.
"No!" he whispered above me. "Zaya, no."
He took my head in his hands and breathed, stepping between my legs from a different angle to wrap his arms around me. He tucked his cheek into my hair, breathed it in.
"This feels like a trick..." I told him, tears flowing freely from my eyes.
Dammit, I was a Sith Lord...
"I just want...I don't want to do this wrong, my-Zaya. You deserve..."
He laughed, rumbling against my chest.
"More than just a cockpit, anyway," he told me.
He brought my face up to look at him, where my wavering gaze bore into his.
"Not because I'm a Zabrak?"
"The thought hadn't even crossed my mind."
"Are you sure?"
He smiled at me, his beam so clear and honest. It plowed through the void of self-doubt instantly.
"How could I think that?" he wondered.
A moment passed.
"You are so beautiful..." he whispered to me.
"So the fact that I'm an alien-"
"I'm serious," he told me, his smile fading. "You're the best person I know. I couldn't - I wouldn't ask for anything else but you."
I stood up to meet his hug, where the two of us breathed in, breathed out, in turns.
"You are a very good kisser, Malavai," I mumbled into his chest.
There was a pause, then we both sort of laughed, or giggled, was closer.
"I admit I've had a lot of...practice."
I flipped back to look at him, and he was quick to correct himself.
"Not recently, and not-you know what? It doesn't matter. Thank you."
He planted a kiss on my forehead, and we smiled at each other.
"Now go," he told me. "Please. We'll...let's talk later, about all this. I'm afraid if I stand near you for just one more moment I'll do something I very much want to do."
Laughing again, I nearly skipped out of the cockpit, turning back to look at him one last time. He was watching me go, a dumbfounded, stupid smile spread across his face from ear to ear.
"So you won't be leaving then?"
He crossed his arms, smiled wider than I'd ever seen him.
"Absolutely not," he said, and with that I turned and left the cockpit.