Ten Days Later.
Strange… Orion thought, ever before anything happened. Very strange, indeed…
The Grand Marshal twigged a different atmosphere when he arrived home that evening, something out of the ordinary. Usually, Lilia's naps had been meticulously timed throughout the day to ensure she had time with her father when his command had drawn to a close; much needed father and daughter time, beneficial to and craved by both.
That night, however, Orion's exalted daughter was nowhere to be found. Instead, his wife informed him that Lilia's routine had become upset during the day and she had already been bedded down. Disappointed but understanding, the bewildered leader accepted the glass of whiskey held aloft; something he had not indulged in in quite some time. And speaking of routines not quite being in tune…
Taken to his armchair with his mould-breaking tumbler of whiskey, a habit from a lifetime ago, Orion got comfortable and his wife got close.
"Mmm… Darling…?" Orion hurried the latter half of his first sip of the burning honey, for something else he deemed out of the ordinary; as of late, at least. The long, lasting press of suggestive lips to his jaw from the wonderful weight in his lap roused more curiosity in the redhead. "What are you doing?"
"Seducing my husband." Came the sultry, matter-of-fact answer that triggered further puzzlement; another press of her lips grazed dangerously close to his Adam's Apple.
"I see… And why?"
"Would you rather I seduced someone else's husband?" She inquired rhetorically while the assault of peppering pecks continued to litter random patches of Orion's flesh. "Or… I could click my fingers and Kylo Ren would come running. We do owe him, after all."
"What I mean, little dove, is-" Orion's chin automatically lifted, giving her better access despite himself and ignoring the jibe about his volatile counterpart. "…you are still within the six-week hiatus under Doctor Craven's instructions, are you not? I was under the impression you were-"
"Orion… Darling Orion…" The impish purr stopped him in his tracks while her fought the urge stirring in his loins. "I saw Doctor Craven this morning. After we escorted you to the bridge. After a brief examination, she's exceptionally happy with my progress and feels I am ready to resume certain… activities."
Now that was welcome news indeed.
"Are you sure, angel?" Whiskey glass little more than a prop, Orion's wary hopefulness took over from his curiosity; true, the last six weeks had been a challenge for the Grand Marshal, but they were nothing on what his wife had had to endure. At least he could relieve himself, she had no such concession. "It just… Seems that not so long ago, you were stitched and delicate and-"
The redhead's bumbling was cut off at the source; his wife's lips deviating from whatever aimless placing they had been in to silence his instead. Firm and certain, this was more than the ritual parting peck as they reached the bridge or the reuniting one upon his return home. Nor was it the rushed excuse of affection that hands-on, unaided parenthood demanded.
Poor Lucilla had been denied so long that sensitivity had accumulated and desperation along with it. Orion, to his credit, had been discreet in ridding himself of any frustration while in the shower. How many times he had felt the need to do so, Lucilla didn't know, nor did she have the inkling to ask. It may have been all well and good for him, but Lucilla had been medically forbidden from an orgasm for six weeks to allow healing in her womb; any contraction (from any type of sexual contact) could result in a tear. And a tear would set back her healing.
"I'm sure. More to the point, so is Doctor Craven."
Was there anything more embarrassing or shameful for a man than not being able to provide for his wife? And not just in a financial sense? Sure, Lucilla had everything she could ever want, a near-impossible child included, but if he found himself incapable of satisfying her, that would absolutely kill him. Especially when he had barely avoided a similar happening before Lilia's birth; enough to learn from it. Now… that was all about to be rectified. Once and for all. On both sides.
Orion fumbled to blindly place his glass on the small, high table beside his armchair; he would need both hands for this. Particularly when his wife already had a head start with hers; one warming his chest and the other buried in his trousers. The heavy heat had nothing to do with the fire roaring in the background (like the times before her liberation, if either of them cared to notice) or the semi-suffocating pitch of his uniform, but the urgency in that mutual facial assault and the implication it carried.
"Little dove..." Came the pining whimper, separating their lips for scarcely long enough. "I've missed you. So, so much..." The redhead's newly emptied hands went about returning the breath-stuttering favour of his wife's coiled fist; hitching the long evening slip upwards and reacquainting her with an old friend, much to her sobbed delight. Naturally, he took the time to admire her; when she pulled back in his lap and tilted that magnificent face towards the ceiling in sheer ecstasy. Something that Orion could not help but comment on.
"Someone still enjoys the pull of leather in her cunt."
Hair strewn and sheets scattered (with the little one nowhere to be found), it was like the six-week hiatus had never happened. Or… is there something to "absence makes the heart grow fonder"? Perhaps. Without the six-week suspension from her husband, maybe Lucilla wouldn't have savoured the reunion quite the same.
An alabaster hand combed through the fiery strands in their reach; going so far as to snatch and pull at them when that wicked tongue hit a sweet spot. The owner of those strands didn't seem to mind; in fact, he took it as a very high compliment.
Lifting his eyes to spy between her breasts (nursing had taken their toll, not that he would have paid much heed), General Orion Hux saw her as he had always seen her: The most exquisite woman in the galaxy. And the whole Order agreed, to such a degree of putting her on a pedestal as a shining example for others to follow. But if they saw her now…
The face of an extremely powerful man nestled between her thighs, eyes shuttered with absolute ecstasy and lingerie (of a scandalous value) neither on nor off… To see the magnificence of Lucilla in the throes of such rapture was one thing, and exclusive to those in the bedroom that night. To hear her was another, and there was no guaranteeing who might hear that.
But who could blame her?
"Orion!" There it was, that seemingly tortured whinge that adoration would not permit him to ignore. "Darling, I can't-!" Upon the quaking declaration, Orion ceased his suckling of the ballooning clit and released it from the tormenting vacuum of his mouth.
Taking the reprieve from the mild assault on her lower quarters to grapple back some bare control, the heavy thuds of a brand-new Grand Marshal's uniform drumming the floor were little more than background noise to the little dove. Thankfully, Lucilla's wait would not be a long one; the encroaching shadow over her half-hooded eyes promised it.
"You're shaking, my angel." Threaded with proud, sultry amusement, the observation was swiftly followed by the urgent pressing of Orion's lips to his wife's trembling ones; then her throat, then her neck, and wherever else he pleased while he shuffled himself to comfort.
"You would be too if you had to endure what I had to endure…" Lucilla retorted with the slightest edge of pained impatience that Orion was in the process of rectifying. Knowing where his interests lay, he did not argue.
"Wet already." Removing the confirming hand from between his wife's legs, Hux would have been foolish and naïve to think that her slick was recent; the very thought of the evening ahead had been enough to get her lubricating juices flowing, ever before he crossed their threshold.
"Orion…" Steeling her spine, Lucilla sat up and met her husband head-on with tenacity weighing in her testiness; the no-nonsense determination snatched his attention and held it like a vice with eyes solid and cold boring into his. "I am going to warn you now and take note. You are not to be gentle. You are not to be careful. You are not going to be considerate. The stitches are gone, I have been given the all-clear. You are going to fuck me, and you are going to fuck me properly. Do you understand?"
Oh, he understood.
With a strength no one would believe the Grand Marshal possessed, the dark-haired darling was seized, flipped and pinned in a matter of seconds; the delightedly surprised yelp only fuelled him.
The front of Orion's torso warmed the back of his wife's and after a second or two of adjustment, that ultimate and final sense of reunification was met with joint, coveted relief where it really counted.
"Are you alright…?" It wouldn't sit right with the former General if he didn't inquire once the full sense of envelopment hit him; even if he choked on it. Orion lined his nose with his beloved's spine and felt the shift of her hips under his; no doubt acclimatizing to the sensation of fullness after such a suspension. After a few seconds, Lucilla pushed her weight (and a portion of his) onto her left hand and pushed back her right, stretching it to further the physicality by embracing her husband's neck.
"I will be when you keep your word."
And that was all the license Orion needed.
Withdrawing almost fully, he could have sworn he felt her sag without his stiff length keeping her up but the second the rough, hard, sudden re-entry forced its way back in, she jolted. He didn't wait for a reaction either in the positive or the negative but the screech from below could have been deciphered either way.
The last time they had done this, Lucilla still had a bump rivalling the Death Star. Even then, she had protested that he was being too gentle, too soft, but the paranoia drilled into his head begged him to err on the side of caution where his child was concerned.
The last time they had done this, the ugliness surrounding Lilia's birth had not happened yet and the couple, in blissful unawares while wrapped in physical rapture, could not have believed something would taint it; let alone something so childishly trivial.
Orion continued to do as he was bid with no complaint from below; instead the whines and mewls spurred him to no end. Removing himself until the very last scrape of skin then ramming to the extreme; swift, bruising, sharp snaps of his hips against hers, clattering the delicate meat of her buttocks with each swing of his pelvis.
"You're going to have trouble sitting tomorrow, little dove…" Effort-dry lips found the shell of Lucilla's ear and blessed it with a benign kiss once his semi-filthy utterance found it first.
"I'm counting on it." Came the passionate snarl in reply, a prelude to a brand of roughness of her own. The arm Lucilla had secured behind her shoulder to reach her husband had moved; albeit not far, and for the second time that night, Orion felt his hair being snatched. Snatched and dragged with his whole head following suit until his lips found those of his blue-eyed beauty's.
There were no sweet pecks, no pleasant exchanges only hot, wet and open; not unlike another orifice that Orion pounded with fervour.
It was bliss. Filthy, disgusting, borderline immoral, but it was bliss. To have his wife so close again in more way than one and purely within his mercy, it was like before they had Lilia. When they had no one and nothing to worry about, only themselves. What went on between them was for them and only them…
Or was it?
Ren stiffened, his entire being frozen in an inexplicable grasp in the middle of the corridor.
Snoke…? No. Snoke is gone. And it doesn't feel like that anyway, what-?
A sharp intake of breath registered, and the Knight turned, rounding on the gawking perpetrator but saw nothing and no one in the empty durasteel tunnel. He chanced a step, it (whatever it was) allowed it; then the next, and the next. Eyes of the darkest brown flickered in curiosity, narrowing in bewilderment as he awaited his next clue.
There it was again!
A… sob? No… A whimper?
Whatever it was, it sounded… Distressed? Uncomfortable? Laboured? Cautious steps abandoned, the Supreme Leader's tread evolved into purposeful strides, returning him to his quarters nearby. Immediately, he took to the armchair upon arrival and waited again but he was not kept in suspense.
"Ohhhh…!"
Ren's passive features melted in realization, his stomach dropping when it finally dawned. It was her. Sitting forward, leather-wrapped hands clasped tight and eyes unblinking, the next one came almost instantly.
"Orion… Darling… Do that again… Please…" What Ren wouldn't know (but hearing it was enough to stir something he hadn't felt in a long time) was that sweet plea was born of his Grand Marshall's hand wiggling its way down and stroking at the insistent little organ pulsing between her legs.
What should he do? He hadn't tuned into this (well, he had but only to monitor hers and the baby's welfare but just… hadn't tuned out again) so… did he just shut himself off from it? Pretend he never heard it and try and look her and Hux in the face the next day? Or…
"Oh my… God…!" What sounded like a strangled sob followed swiftly and Ren's decision was made for him. In that, he could not fight his way through the labyrinth of black fabric quickly enough. Eventually (and thankfully, Lucilla's soundtrack had not ceased), the Supreme Leader found relief that he did not know he needed.
Ren's panting matched the little dove's and he fought to keep it even; even though he had only begun, and she was (probably) nearly finished. Should he take his gloves off? No… He liked this. Warm(ish), tight, textured… It worked for him, something he had never thought of before.
Eyes closed and sinking further into the armchair, he could practically see her beyond the shuttering of his lids: hair everywhere, sapphires flickering in absolute rapture, creamy legs open in wanton…
Was that actually her? Right now? Or simply what his imagination painted? He could not see Hux and that was the only Orion he knew… But it worked in time with what he continued to hear so did it matter?
Ren squeezed his cock, painfully so, but he relished it. She had been his first. His last. His only. All those years ago under the (then) General's reluctant sanction when she simply lay there and let him use her; in the same way he used his hand now. That was a first too; it only seemed natural for her to inspire it.
"Agh! Yes!" Ren felt this inexplicable urgency and picked it up in his hips and his wrist simultaneously. He felt it threaded through her tone, like she demanded it of him too and he gladly gave it to her.
"Oh Gods… I'm close… I'm so close…!" Me too, Ren thought, though didn't spare his virgin hand. I'm coming... I'm coming for you…
The shrill screech in a far-off bedroom (that may as well have been Ren's own) marked the end for both of them; a shared orgasm that only one of them knew about. He listened to the soft titter as she came down from her high, those sounds he could only assume were affectionate, post-coital kisses with her partner. But he, alone, maintained the slowing strokes and sighed. Well, it was good while it lasted.
Eyes dropping, he cocked that shaggy head and removed his hand; lifting it to just before his face. He examined them, the bubbles of off-white drool that had seeped (and were still seeping) from the head of an organ he whipped out only once or twice a day for a different kind of relief. He rubbed it between his fingers, testing the texture, fascinated by the contrast of it against the black of his gloves. He sniffed it… Nothing really. How could he not be curious? He'd never seen it before. Not even on his first encounter when he left a defenceless little darling paralysed on the bed.
So, this… This is responsible for Lilia…
Opting not to dwell on it (though it might not be the last), Ren began to disrobe what was left and, instead of dumping it like he might have before, he took the tangle of garments with him. They carelessly met the bottom of the laundry hamper while his body coped with the unexpected thrill and his still semi-firm prick bounced ahead of while he prepared to shower.
He had promised somewhat regular showers, after all. Hadn't he?