Chapter Summary: What would Vestra give that Lana wished to know of her?
Post-class story, pre-RotHC. Pre-relationship.
A chill crawled beneath Lana's skin, inciting a shiver down her body, rousing her from the doze she'd fallen into. Stretching from the shoulders to the tip of her toes, Lana took a breath, drawing in the faint, heady scent from the room, which carried a notable hint of perfume. A touch heavier on florals, which stood apart from the earthy fragrances favoured by their compatriots – and in turn, made Lana's senses perk up whenever a certain someone came within range. A calculated effect, to be sure, but it was one Lana gladly submitted to, and indulged in. After all, florals were highly preferable to the drop of literal blood that some of their more...eccentric peers wore.
Guided by a dull urge to bury her nose in her partner's neck, Lana slowly blinked her eyes open, turning her head to look upon the woman next to her. Vestra lay on her front, tousled black hair spilling over her bare shoulders and around her head, which was half-buried in a thick pillow. Her black-lined eyes were closed, hands tucked snugly under the pillow, though Lana knew better than to think she was sound asleep. For all her projected nonchalance and the casual stroke to her imposing mien, Vestra was one of the most guarded individuals Lana had ever known – rivaled only by the Dark Council. Even in repose, a tight cord of tension lay within her, ready to snap at the slightest hint of a threat. If Lana were to make a hostile move towards Vestra even now, as they lay in pleasant afterglow, she had no doubt she would breathe her last in a shock of ozone and charred flesh.
Stifling a yawn cut short by another shiver, Lana pushed herself up, grasping for the covers kicked carelessly to the foot of the bed. She pulled it over their feet, up the length of their legs, but paused and laid the cover over Vestra's waist. With featherlight touch, Lana trailed her fingers up the smooth expanse of Vestra's back, marred by thin ribbons of pinkish-red raked across tan skin. She grazed over the scratches gently, watching toned muscle twitch under her touch, half in disbelief that she'd lost this much control. She would've felt guilty for inflicting such damage, if not for the fact that she knew it'd be a trial to walk straight for the next day.
She loves to play with her food, Lana thought drily, worrying at her own neck and shoulders, where she could feel bruises already starting to form. To think she'd managed to sucker Lana into donning the strap each time she'd brought it along, when her own hips could tear such a cry from Lana's throat, and even the most classified of secrets if she were so inclined to perform such an...intimate interrogation. Unbelievable; and how typical of her, to string someone along before showing her own hand. Not that Lana could argue with the results.
Crossing her thighs, she lay back on her pillow with a soft sigh, and turned onto her side. Her hand lingered on Vestra's back, stroking carefully between the scratches.
"Are you sure you don't want me to heal them?"
A lazy hum. "Not yet. Been a while since anyone used me as a scratching post. I want to savour it." Her last words trailed off into a sleepy, raspy purr – somehow dipping into a husky, seductive note without effort, and the ease in her tone elicited a chuckle from Lana.
Comfortable silence fell over them, and Lana didn't bother to break it. She gazed longer at the peaceful expression on Vestra's face, allowing it to lull her into a similar calm that soothed the inkling in the back of her mind that she should leave. They'd broken her habit of slipping away once the deed was done – Vestra didn't even have to make a promise of food in the morning anymore. Lana merely stayed because she wanted to. Because she'd never felt out of place, being with Vestra in a capacity much closer than as advisor to Councilor. Because she'd spent mornings after alone, and found them lacking without the teasing croon of Vestra's voice in her ear, the quirk in full lips that she wanted to kiss just one more time before they parted. Because she felt safe with Vestra, when she should be on edge as a guest in a predator's lair. The thrill it gave when she was allowed to find security in a clawed embrace and leave unharmed, save for the few nicks she chose to wear on her skin – it was intoxicating. She'd flirted with danger, and was addicted when it flirted back.
Lifting her hand from Vestra's back, she gathered dark strands of hair that had fallen over Vestra's face, and combed them back. She repeated the languid motion, running her nails gently over the scalp, taming the wild mane she'd helped create, until black hair flowed smoothly between her fingers. A therapeutic little exercise, and Lana thought she saw Vestra's mouth twitch in a flicker of a smile.
Drawing her fingers down wavy tresses, Lana rested her wrist between Vestra's shoulderblades, playing with the tips of her hair.
"It occurs to me that I still don't know much about you," Lana murmured.
"Mm. Do you want to?"
She took her time, turning a reply over in her head. Was this a choice, or just an illusion of one? "Perhaps. I know how to make you bend to my touch, how you taste on my tongue… But not you."
Vestra chuckled, and eyes fluttering open to reveal a glint of amusement in that yellow gaze. "You know how to keep a Dark Councilor on her knees. That's knowledge enough to lend you power...if you know how to use it."
She watched Lana, who met her gaze, unwavering. Lana lifted a brow, and Vestra sighed.
"Oh, fine. What do you want to know?"
Lana blinked once in surprise. A sudden concession from she who'd given so little away in their time together – her mind started to race, then jerked to an abrupt halt. What would Vestra give that Lana wanted to know?
What weighs on your mind when your eyes stray to the horizon, like a bird staring through the bars of its cage? What does it mean when your gaze lingers on me, then turns dark when you look back at Arkous? Why does your touch, your kiss feel so soft on my skin, yet I wake to their warmth as if you'd seared them upon my flesh? Do you truly feel so safe with me that you would seek my embrace in the night, and bid me stay til the morning light?
None of those would meet an answer, Lana knew for certain, and she shook them off. No point in playing her hand when it's a game she would lose.
Then she realised Vestra was still watching her, waiting.
"Where do I even start?" Lana mimicked Vestra's sigh, earning a lazy smile in response. She savoured the irony – they were well-versed in physical intimacy, yet stumbled when it went beyond skin-deep. "What is...your favourite colour?"
"That's it?" Vestra asked, an incredulous lilt in her voice that nearly tipped into laughter.
"That's it."
Vestra shifted on her pillow, bringing her face into full view. In the silence, Lana drew her hand back. Vestra's eyes flickered to the motion, and stayed on the hand as she laid it on the bed, before returning to Lana's gaze.
A few seconds of thought, then Vestra said, "Green."
"That's a lie," Lana replied, hardly a full heartbeat later, and gave herself a chide for speaking on pure instinct. But where she'd subtly tensed, Vestra still seemed relaxed, if curious.
"How do you know?"
Lana thought back on Vestra, who'd gazed at her, searching – it was a look she often wore herself, chasing elusive inspiration while she tried to mould words into poetry. "It's too obvious. Try again."
Vestra smiled, a rumble of laughter in her throat that made Lana want to press her lips to her neck. "Violet. Well...purple, really. But violet, in particular."
Lana hummed. "It does look good on you."
"Before you tear it off my body?"
Lana burst out in laughter. Vestra owned a violet nightdress handspun from the softest silk, which she often wore when Lana visited. In Lana's first encounter with it, they had reached the tail end of Vestra's coy little game of temptation, stretched over two agonising days of meetings in Kaas City. And Lana, with muscles wound tight from enduring countless discrete passes, kept deliberately at arm's length by the object of her desire, had ripped Vestra's favourite nightdress off her figure, turning her initial gasps of dismay into cries for more.
Vestra now owned multiple variations of that violet nightdress, though Lana had since taken more care with her wardrobe. As exhilarating as it'd been to tear clothing off Vestra's body, Lana was well-aware that her nightdresses had a credit worth of at least three zeroes each.
As Lana's laughs faded, she was distracted when Vestra reached up, and pressed on the tip of her nose with one slender finger. Lana scrunched her nose, and a delighted grin parted Vestra's lips, her eyes coming alight with a playful gleam. Losing her breath for the briefest second, Lana drank in this glimpse of Vestra's youthful glee, before pulling the finger away with a smile.
She set Vestra's hand on the bed, resting her own over it.
"Your turn," Vestra said. "What's your favourite colour?"
"Green."
"That's too obvious. I have to believe it."
"It is the truth," Lana said simply, and Vestra's head cocked against her pillow.
Looking away from Vestra, Lana's gaze fell upon their hands, as she idly stroked slim digits with her fingertips. Vestra didn't move, and she wandered lower, tracing the ridges on the back of her hand. These veins had more definition than one would expect from Vestra – who'd sculpted her image into that of a noblewoman instead of a hardened Sith warrior. There was some truth in that; Vestra favoured use of the Force over swordplay. But to think her weak in close combat was fatal – Lana had often witnessed Darth Avriss slaying soldiers and Jedi alike with fluid, calculated strokes of her scarlet lightsaber. She was a fighter who preferred not to appear like one – and that had been the downfall of many foes, who'd made the mistake of underestimating her.
Lana traced and retraced those veins, lost in thought. Did these appear only after she'd become Sith? Or had they been fixtures on Vestra's hands long before, dubious trophies earned from hard labour with a shock collar about her neck? She couldn't imagine it – a proud Sith such as Vestra, with head bowed, hands rough from menial, demeaning chores. To even ponder the thought felt like a disservice to her, to the progress she'd made, the literal chains she'd broken.
So she stamped on that train of thought and looked back up, anchoring herself in Vestra's gaze, which regarded her quietly.
"What about your eyes?" Vestra asked. "What were they before?"
"Green."
Laughter left Vestra's lips in a huff. "Really?"
"Yes. You may check it in my dossier, if you wish." Lana smiled, laying her fingers over Vestra's once more. "I remember yours when they were still brown."
"I'm surprised. They were...unremarkable." There was an undercurrent in her mellow tone, though hidden too quickly for examination.
"I thought you looked quite fetching with them."
Vestra watched her in silence, an unfathomable quality to her gaze. It was a thinner shroud of that impenetrable mask she wore as Avriss, and Lana wondered what it was that Vestra didn't want her to know.
Vestra broke into a small smile. "Interesting. I prefer my eyes as they are now."
"They are striking."
"Not as much as yours."
Lana laughed softly, as Vestra's hand left the warm cover of her fingers, to stroke the line of her jaw. A hitch marred her next breath, and Lana already knew she would dream of this touch in the idle moments of the coming weeks, a memory to haunt her until the next time they met.
"Sweet talk already?" Lana teased, dragging her nails over Vestra's forearm with tantalising pressure. "Do you yearn for my touch so badly?"
Vestra's lips tilted into a smirk. "Nearly as much as you were begging for it."
A concession threaded into a challenge, a well-aimed spark to reignite the warm embers of Lana's desire. Lana wondered if she was that easy to manipulate, or if Vestra was just that good at swaying others to her will. Then Lana realised – she didn't care at the moment.
Closing the distance between them, Lana caught Vestra in a slow, yet demanding kiss. She pushed Vestra onto her back, and tugged the covers off their bodies, the chill in the air biting at her skin. Settling her weight over Vestra, one knee between her legs, Lana lifted her head and looked down at her companion – who wore a self-satisfied smirk, biting her bottom lip with lascivious flair. The shine of victory couldn't be clearer in her darkening eyes; a provocative invitation Lana couldn't ignore.
Why do I want you so much?
Vestra's hands cupped the bottom of her jaw, and slid slowly down the length of her neck. Lana let her eyes fall shut, swallowing against Vestra's palms, and a sigh fell from her lips.
Why do I feel like I'd wither without your touch?
She leaned down, feeling Vestra's arms wrap around her, as she drew her companion into another kiss, delving in to coax a purr that sent a shiver down her spine. Lana trapped her in kiss after kiss, setting a firm knee between Vestra's thighs, refusing to move until she received a hard bite on the lip.
Lana drew back with a smirk, taking in Vestra's flushed cheeks, the desire burning in her eyes, a mirror to her own. And in its reflection, she caught a flicker of selfsame curiosity.
You don't know either, do you?
A/N: 'It was a thinner shroud of that impenetrable mask she wore as Avriss, and Lana wondered what it was that Vestra didn't want her to know.'
Lana: *compliments Ves' natural eye colour*
Vestra: *teary-eyed emoji*