Author's Note: This chapter is not safe for work.

A Brief Bliss

16 ATC. Yavin IV.

I thought you seemed more irritable than usual, Lana says, on the way to Yavin IV. I just didn't realize it was because of Theron.

Nine laughs. He surprised me a little, yes, but my mood on the Terminus had nothing to do with Theron. As I said, very little physical happened on Rishi- I might have had some new ideas to mull over, granted, but I'm perfectly capable of seeing to myself on that front.

Her last blush barely faded, Lana's cheeks redden again.

You brought it up. But no, it was just a long ten days stuck shipboard with Darth Marr. The Council- she shudders, a twitch up her spine that drives her involuntarily to her feet- I never met most of them. I assume you can understand my apprehension, though.

He'd followed your career remarkably closely. I didn't realize it then, of course, but later, after Intelligence reformed, we spoke about you at some length. I don't think Marr ever quite knew what to make of you.

Somehow I'm not surprised. He voted on the Castellan restraints. I've no idea what his personal opinion on the matter was, but purging my archive files didn't make him forget. Now that she's up she's thirsty; she glances around the room- none of the good caf left, though Theron promised to buy more on Coruscant if he could, and no alcohol to be found, but there's water in the pitcher on her bedside table. He told you to keep a tight rein on me, I expect.

Lana nods. Yes. Although he didn't phrase it as an order, specifically, so I may have been somewhat less than diligent about it.

Brave of you.

As you said, it wouldn't work going forward if we didn't trust each other. It wouldn't have been fair.

No. But very little about Intelligence, or the Dark Council, was ever fair. She starts across the room and up the stairs to the bed, lifting the last of the clean glasses from atop the cabinet as she moves past. She really ought to tidy up one of these days; she's gotten too settled here, starting to let things pile up. A bad habit. Not many left alive who remember all of that business, now- only Darth Vowrawn, I think.

Not Acina?

She shakes her head. She wasn't a Darth, then, I don't think, or if she was she wasn't a Councilor. It would have been- Hadra? I can't remember. That seat turned over so often I nearly stopped keeping track. I only bothered at all so I'd know who I ought to steer clear of.

We did used to joke it was cursed, Lana chuckles, nodding when she holds up the pitcher and glass. Yes, please- but you're probably right. Mekhis had been killed by then, good riddance to her.

You Sith do murder each other rather a lot. After a sip of water (warm, but it'll have to do), she carries both full glasses back to the couch and Lana reaches up to take one from her hand. Though from what I remember hearing of Mekhis from my training days, she probably deserved it.

She was completely insane. Scientifically brilliant, yes, but insane- though a Jedi killed her, actually, not a rival. Now that I think about it- Lana pauses, considering- Acina ought to thank the Republic. They killed all of her immediate predecessors: the Hero of Tython killed Hadra and Darth Karrid died in battle, although as to who killed her- well, no one knows, but-

She snorts water up her nose at that. Oh, I know who killed Karrid. He told me himself, on Ziost.

On Zi- oh, no. One hand pressed to her forehead, Lana sighs. Theron? But why would he have told you that?

I was flying blind and he was leading me. We had to know we could trust each other- we both shared things we shouldn't have, then. And Karrid was-

(-completely insane, Theron said, bitter, quiet, as she perched on the very tip of the Emperor's outstretched finger in the middle of the People's Tower, like every Sith-)

She blinks. Lana, you don't happen to remember the name of the Jedi who killed Darth Mekhis, do you?

Not offhand. I'd expect it's in her Archive file, though. Why?

She's already reaching for her datapad as Lana speaks, fingers darting across the screen, bypassing security protocols and clearances, entering search parameters. I just thought of something, the way you described her, and I wondered.

The file loads slowly, laden with complex diagrams, but she scans forward to the end.

"Due to the destruction of the Sun Razer, Darth Mekhis' remains were unable to be recovered, however, multiple independent-" not what she needs. She shifts back a page. "-apprehended a Republic strike team attempting to infiltrate the station, including Jedi Master Ngani Zho-"

Oh, hell.

She hands the datapad across.

What am I... oh, you can't be serious. Wasn't that Theron's-

Yes.

And you think-

She shrugs. I don't know. It's certainly a possibility.

You two- Lana hands the datapad back, takes a long sip of water and sighs, rather more dramatically than necessary- deserve each other. Reckless, stubborn, impossible-

What would you do without us? Winking, she sets the datapad back on the table.

Sleep more, Lana grumbles, prodding the sharp point of her elbow into her side. And drink less.

She doesn't do well in the heat.

Her childhood memories are hazy, odd fragmented things left behind by the memory modification process, but they couldn't take them all- she needed her schooling, her experiences, needed to be herself only nameless- so she's pretty sure the first time she left Dromund Kaas she was nineteen, in her second year of Intelligence training. Kaas City weather was cold, damp misery, all clinging fog and lightning storms, and after a while the chill settled into one's soul; when she went to Tatooine to learn to track, hunting criminals through the dunes under the light of two suns, she thought her skin would melt from her bones.

And if Rishi was warm compared to Dromund Kaas, the fourth moon of Yavin's sweltering. Even after sundown the breeze is hot and the air sodden and as she finishes driving the last tent stake into the ground she slides down against the canvas wall and fans herself furiously.

Oh, this place is miserable.

The clearing where they'd set up camp might have been a courtyard, once, though the buildings that once surrounded it are nothing more than tumbled-down blocks of stone. Despite their nominal truce the Republic's far across the courtyard, their officers' tents going up in the distance even as she watches. The middle ground in the center should be neutral territory- mess tents and long tables, space to train and space to relax.

Instead it's a no-man's-land, Imperial troopers eyeing their Republic counterparts warily and the same looks deflected right back like blaster bolts off shields. Not a promising start, that.

Lana's supposed to be getting their cots- with the limited space they're bunking together, which she doesn't mind; after the little safehouse on Rishi they're used to each other- but she's nowhere in sight. Dinner looks to be ready, though, the first few soldiers lining up at the mess and emerging with trays laden with-

"MREs. Ugh." She narrows her eyes, squinting at the trays. "And I thought this planet couldn't get any worse."

"I was just about to warn you." Theron, striding across the cobbles in the narrow gap between two infantry tents, makes a face that probably matches hers and holds up a packet of crackers and a half-empty bottle of whiskey. "Apparently there'll be real food tomorrow, for what that's worth, but I was hoping you'd be open to trading."

With a snort of amusement, she shifts the mallet she'd been using on the tent pegs from hand to hand. "You're on enemy turf, you know. I should knock you out and hold you for ransom."

"If that mean no more meetings, I'll let you do it if you promise to cut me in."

"80/20?"

"I was thinking more like 60/40," he grins, "but I'm open to negotiation. I also have that file on the Massassi you asked for, by the way."

Rising, she nods. "Thanks. I'll read it tonight- I'm in the field tomorrow, or so I have been informed, and I know less about them than I should."

"You're welcome, but why didn't you just ask Lana?"

"Didn't want to tell her I didn't know, to be honest. About all I do know of them is that they're a cousin species to the pureblood Sith, and we don't learn much Sith lore. If we knew all their secrets, we wouldn't need them," she says, wrinkling her nose, "and we can't have that, can we?"

"Perish the thought." Theron runs his hands through damp hair- kolto, she thinks, rather than sweat. Unlike hers, his shirt is dry and when he takes another step closer she can smell it, bitter-sharp, clinging to his skin. "So- dinner?"

"Let me haul my bag in and see what I've got. Most of my stash is shipboard, and she's docked on Terminus, but I should have something edible." Her duffle's at the other corner of the tent platform, where she'd dropped it when she realized she still had to set the damned thing up; she picks it up and nudges one flap open with her hip. "Come on."

He follows her in, pausing as she lets the bag back down in one corner. Kneeling on the prefab floor, she pulls a lantern out first and lights it, setting it in the middle of the tent where it casts flickering shadows on the walls. That done, she unzips both outside pockets and arranges the contents in a half-circle around her: two bottles of water, a container of sugared fruit and a smaller one, half-empty, of almonds, a mostly-melted chocolate bar.

"And ration bars, of course." She gestures at the array. "And the chocolate's had it, so I'll throw that in for free."

Theron sits down beside her, adds the crackers and the whiskey to the circle. "I've had enough ration bars to last a lifetime. But I think we've basically got a balanced meal here."

"Booze, carbs and chocolate? Works for me."

"No cups, though."

"Eh." She shrugs; Theron unscrews the cap from the bottle, hands it to her and she takes a long sip before she passes it back. "I don't mind sharing if you don't."

He looks as though he's about to say something then bites it back, shoves a handful of almonds into his mouth instead, chewing for a moment before he shakes his head and takes a drink. "Your tent's a lot bigger than mine," he says, swallowing. "Rank thing?"

"Doubt it. Yours is probably meant for one. I'm bunked with Lana."

"Oh."

He looks- is that disappointment on his face? To go with the whiskey she takes a bite of fruit but even that's gone sticky in the heat, leaves her fingers coated with half-melted granules of sugar until she licks them carefully clean.

When she looks up again he's definitely staring.

"We should-" Theron takes another drink and a deep breath- "we should talk, right? About-"

She has to squint, then, as glare from the floodlights streams into the suddenly-ajar tent opening and Lana backs in, her arms laden with cots and lanterns and two soldiers behind her carrying folding tables and chairs.

"Cipher, I've got us some furniture," she says, turning, "and some lights, and- oh. Hello, Theron. I see you two've found dinner."

(Lana buries her face in her hands. Is it too late to apologize retroactively?

It wasn't just you, believe me. Yavin was- she considers for a moment how best to say it- an exercise in frustration. We'd no free time and even less privacy.

But you managed somehow, obviously.

She grins. Only halfway. No opportunity to do things properly, not until the end of it, though I won't pretend we were behaving ourselves. But we're spies, after all. Rule one: don't get caught.

Do I want to know? Interlacing her fingers on her lap, Lana looks down the bridge of her nose in pretend sternness.

Remember all the problems we had with the relay at Watchpost Esk? We built it but never staffed it, so stonerays kept getting into the wiring and shorting out the power supply. Theron and I spent a lot of time fixing it.

Of course I remember, Lana says. It seemed like forever at the time, but we were only on Yavin for- what, two weeks? The sensor equipment there must have gone out every other day.

Nine waits, watching her expression, and she knows the exact moment when Lana gets it when the pillow hits her in the side of the head.

There weren't any stonerays, were there? She brandishes the pillow like a weapon. I swear, you two-

In my defense, she laughs, holding her hands up to bat the blows away, there were stonerays the first time.)

(There really were stonerays the first time.)

The proximity sensor on the relay down the path's going crazy but no one's supposed to be this far out but her. Not good. For a moment she thinks of detouring, avoiding whatever the problem might be and continuing on her way- but if it's one of those Massassi, she might be able to sneak up on it and take it out quickly.

The damned things are already a problem, even near the base camp: one got in throwing distance of a troop transport this morning and took out both engines with hurled boulders before the guards managed to take it down; the whole thing'll have to be scuttled, an expensive loss. They've lost ten scouts to them, too, the whole of the first party they'd sent out still missing, and with Revan nowhere to be found the fewer of them the bulk of the soldiers have to engage, the better.

So she continues on, pulling her speeder up short just out of sight of the watchpost and slipping into stealth before continuing the rest of the distance on foot.

When she gets close enough to see, though, it isn't Massassi at all. The first stoneray's on the sensor, crunching metal under its claws as the electronics spark and hiss, and she sets up behind a tree and picks it off at range with a few shots from her rifle. When it falls she turns her attention to the second, trying to fly away with a length of power cable in its jaws; it lashes out angrily with its tail but she dodges to one side, lops the barbed tip off cleanly with her knife before one last shot drops it beside its mate.

Prodding at the relay with the butt of her rifle, she sighs as it gives off one last shower of sparks and the indicator light goes out.

Properly dead, then. It'll need replacing.

"This is Cipher Nine calling base camp." As she jogs back to fetch the speeder she opens the logistics channel- call it what one likes, it's still really just her and Theron and Lana doing the brunt of the work; Marr put his foot down at allowing Jakarro a formal place at the War Table and neither he nor the Grand Master seem to pay attention to their comms. That's an illusion, she's sure- no one so much as sneezes in camp without one of them knowing- but power has its privileges. "Come in, base camp."

"I read you, Cipher. Something up?"

They don't really need the identifiers anymore; after this long they know each other by voice, but over an open channel the clarification's still part of the protocol. "Hi, Theron. Do you know if there are any extra relays sitting around? Esk is down- had a little problem with the local wildlife."

"I can check. Hang on." It's harder to tell with him, with less echo from his permanent implant than an earpiece comm, but it sounds like he's moving. "You okay?"

"Oh, I'm fine. It was only stonerays, but they did a number on the hardware."

"Good. Let me just look here-" clattering, something metallic falling over- "oops. Yeah, there's a full extra assembly here. Should I run it out to you?"

Back at her speeder, she sits, fires up the engine. "You can just send a tech out. The setup's just busywork. No need to waste your time with it."

"Busywork's still work," he says, "and I've got nothing but time. Meet you there?"

She isn't on a schedule, technically speaking. What's a few minutes' rest? "I'll wait for you."

It's full midday by the time he gets there and the sun's blazing; when Theron pulls up, she's laying on the seat of her speeder in the shadow of a tall tree and still dripping sweat down the back of her jacket, face pink with heat despite all the water she's been drinking.

He looks at her, head tilted, as she sits up. "You should get out of the sun. You look like you're about to keel over."

"I'm fine," she says again. "Let's just get this thing up and running, shall we?"

"I've got it. Go sit inside."

"Inside where? There's nothing here."

Pulling a chemical chillpack out of the carry bag on his shoulder and holding it out in her direction, Theron nudges her toward an opening in a nearby rock face. "Follow the cable. Power supply's in the cave there. Just- look, I'm bored out of my mind sitting in camp all day. Let me do something. Please."

"Okay, okay." She holds her hands up in mock surrender, takes the pack and crosses the clearing to sit in the cool dark of the cave mouth. "If it's full of monsters and they eat me, I'm blaming you."

"It isn't. Opening's too narrow for anything flying and it's too shallow for any other local predators."

Glancing back over her shoulder, he's right: it extends barely two meters into the rock, with the generator powered down at the back; it probably cut out when the power cable disconnected. "Must have missed that line in the scouting report."

"Wasn't in the report." With a shrug, Theron starts pulling equipment out of the bag and unstraps the new relay node from the cargo rack of his own speeder. "I spent a lot of time in caves as a kid. You learn to get good at picking out safe ones if you don't like being woken up the hard way."

"I may have said this when you told me before-" she unfastens her jacket and palms the cold pack, tucking it down her undershirt into the front of her bra with a contented sigh as he arches an eyebrow. Force, that feels good- "but you really did have a shitty childhood, you know."

"Says the woman who can't remember her own name."

She gives him the finger and a silent smirk and he rolls his eyes, turning back to the broken equipment.

It doesn't take him long to make the swap. She sits, quiet, watching him work; he really is good with his hands, steady and confident with the wiring and the finicky calibrations, though with a tendency to stick his tongue out when he's concentrating that-

"Hey," Theron says, and she blinks. Was she staring? She was probably staring. "Can you hit the generator? I think I'm done."

"And here I was finally getting comfortable. Just a moment." Rising, a few steps take her to the back of the cave and she flips the power switch; it hums to life, accompanied by a sharp yelp from the clearing.

She peers back outside, shadowing her eyes against the glare of the sun. Theron's shaking one hand furiously and swearing, and when she starts to laugh he grumbles and gestures back at the relay. "Wiring diagram was reversed. I knew it didn't look right, but-"

"That's all 'pub kit, so blame your people for that one."

"Nobody's perfect." He makes his way over to lean against the wall beside her. "Are you heading back into camp now?"

She shakes her head. "No. My actual orders are to scout the Massassi village. I only checked the relay at all because it was on my way."

"At least you get to get out here. Damn medics still won't clear me for full duty. I'm hoping for tomorrow, but-" Theron shrugs, slides down the wall until he's sitting, and after a moment she does as well- "right now I'm splitting time between the kolto tank and 'my agent' duty."

She nods. "I caught that again at this morning's meeting. She does love that phrase, doesn't she?"

"I'll take it over another lecture, I guess, but yeah, she does. It's like-" he wipes his forehead with the back of his hand. "Fuck, never mind. You don't want to hear about it, I'm sure."

Time to change the subject, she thinks. "You'll be cleared soon enough, I think… you look better every day. How's your hand?"

"Almost back to normal, minus that shock." He wiggles his fingers. "Ribs almost healed, too."

"I'm glad. Here, have this back for your hand. It'll help with the stinging." She fishes the chillpack out, still cool but sweat-slick from sitting against her skin; wrinkling her nose, she wipes it off on the hem of her shirt. "Ugh, maybe not. Lovely."

"We could share." His expression doesn't change but his voice turns playful for a moment, the closest to himself she's heard in weeks, ever since Rishi. "I could hold it in place for you."

(Lana chokes on a mouthful of water, claps her hand over her mouth to keep from spitting it halfway across the room. For Force's sake-

You wanted to hear the story. Shush.)

"Bold words, Shan, and yet except for last night's dinner you've been avoiding me ever since we got here."

The minute she says it she regrets it. It wasn't even true, for one thing, not at all; they've both been run ragged since the minute the shuttles touched down and they're both snappish from heat and injury and overwork and they sigh, simultaneously, and look at each other out of the corners of their eyes.

"I haven't been- I'm not avoiding you, I just- um." Theron turns toward her, shifting to sit cross-legged. "I should probably apologize for what happened on Rishi. I've been thinking about it a lot, and I know we can't-"

Raising one hand, she presses two fingers against his mouth just as she did then. "I told you before not to apologize. Can't what?"

"Can't-" he sighs, turns his head away from the press of her hand. "Let's not kid ourselves, yeah? Even if we survive this, we both know this truce isn't going to hold. We'd be breaking every rule in the book."

"Didn't think you cared much about rules."

"I don't, mostly, but-"

Rolling her eyes at him, she lets her hand drop down onto his chest; he almost, but not quite, manages to hide the way his breath catches. "More to the point, you're thinking way too far ahead. You heard the speech- right now we're on the same side. Extramural cooperation and all that."

"True." He smirks. "Though I don't think that was quite what they had in mind."

They could dance around this forever, words and words and more words, but she doesn't see the point of it, not when this might be the only time alone they'll get for days. "Are you apologizing for kissing me because you don't want it to happen again, or because you do?"

He bites his lip and doesn't say anything. He doesn't need to.

"Then the only thing we can't do is get caught."

That almost gets a reply, she thinks, the words caught in his throat as his face scrunches in consideration.

"Forget sides, Theron. No Republic versus Empire, no dossiers, no strings. Call it blowing off steam, if you like, but if you're game for it I certainly am."

(Stars above, she can still make him blush, but it isn't so amusing any more. It only makes her want-

No.

Whatever this is, it is enough. It has to be.)

"You're serious?"

She nods, studies the lines around his eyes, trying to read them for an answer. "Entirely."

"I- okay, I- wow." He exhales. "I don't know what I expected, but- "

"And you're not going to hurt my feelings. If that's not your style, just say so." She doesn't think it is but she's not sure it matters, not after the way he kissed her before, not with all her Cipher training telling her if she pushed just a little further, a little more, she'd have his heart between her teeth- but this isn't work. He isn't a mark and she'll give him the out if he wants it; in this, at least, he gets to choose. It's only fair.

"It's not that. I… That's a hell of an offer." Hands held up, helpless, Theron curls them into tight fists and she catches the barest hint of a flinch across his face as his left hand twitches. "If I said I needed to think about it?"

Well. It isn't a no. She shrugs one last time and pushes herself up. "If you make up your mind one way or the other, you know where to find me. But I should get back to work. That village isn't going to scout itself."

As she steps out into the light she can feel his eyes on her back and he calls out, hard to hear over the speeder's engine igniting. "Hey. Cipher?"

"Hm?"

"Be careful, okay?"

"I'm always careful," she says, and goes.

(He had to think about it? Lana sits back, a bemused little smile playing at her lips. Good for him. How long did it take him to make up his mind?

Not long.)

She barely sees Theron that night. He grabs dinner and takes it back to his tent and she knows better than to follow. The next morning, too, she catches sight of him across the camp, storming out of the medical tent with his fists clenched and a deep scowl etched across his face- denied again.

Poor Theron.

Today she's even farther afield, scouting all the way out to the edges of the temple complex; there's something off about the building in the center, a creeping wrongness that ties her stomach in knots and sets her nerves on edge. Revan's people are camped there, too, fewer in number than on Rishi but almost all Force-users, and dodging them all day's got her exhausted by the time she's ready to head in.

As she pilots back toward camp she's running battle plans in her head already- she can probably take the building with just a squad, if they play it right- so she misses the first incoming message, the soft chime lost to the noise around her. She hears the second, though, a minute later, and then a third.

Odd. She pulls over to check.

They're all from him.

Message: hey. think i may have messed up the install yesterday after all. sensor's acting up. can you take a look if you're going by?- theron

Message: or maybe it's stonerays again. not sure. weird signal, though. -t

Message: i can meet you out there? let me know. -t

When she checks the signals, Esk is down. But why's he sending messages rather than just calling? He might be in conference, she supposes, multi-tasking as he so often did. She taps out a quick reply on her commpad.

I'm about fifteen minutes from there. I'll swing by and check it out. -IX

His response is almost immediate.

great. see you soon. -t

She changes course, heading east toward the watchpost, and when she pulls into the clearing Theron's already there, pacing back and forth in the cave mouth- he can't have been in a meeting, then; if he'd been in camp she'd have beaten him here- and when he sees her pull up next to the relay he beckons her over.

"You didn't mention you were already out here," she says. "Did you figure out what the issue was?"

"I'm an idiot."

"You're not an idiot. I'm sure it was-" it's quiet. Too quiet. "You- ah, you know the generator's off, right?"

He nods, then reaches out, takes her by the wrist; she lets him pull her into the shadows. "Yup. The relay's fine. I needed an excuse to get out here so I… um. I may have remotely shut off the power supply. Possibly." He presses a button on his commpad and it purrs to life.

Oh. "For future reference, 'hey, can we talk?' works pretty well for me."

"Noted. So-" Theron takes a deep breath, the words tumbling out- "yes. Yes. I don't know why I didn't say this yesterday instead of trying to think my way through it all fucking night but-" A pause, another breath. "Yes. You're right, no-strings-attached isn't exactly my usual, but I'd be kidding myself if I said I didn't want it."

She takes a step in closer until they're toe to toe, reaches up to rest her free hand against his chest as her eyes adjust to the dim light. "Let me guess. You're usually-" she considers, teasing- "a third-date guy, hm?"

"I've made exceptions," Theron mutters, "on occasion."

"Well, then, if this was some Nar Shaddaa cantina I'd just drag you into a 'fresher and go from there, but seeing as how we're standing in a cave-"

He makes a face. "Oh, come on. That doesn't actually happen- not to me, at least, and definitely not with someone like you."

"You-" she grins, though when she looks more carefully he's probably telling the truth; Nar Shaddaa ought to be ashamed of itself- "clearly don't go to the same bars I do. Like me in what way? Imperial, or-?"

He shakes his head, focused down on where her fingers curl around his lapel. "That, too, but- Force, you're beautiful-"

(-and she should have known, then, that they said no strings but oh, they were such liars-)

"Theron?" Her tone makes him glance up and she pulls him toward her. "Stop talking."

He does.

Suffice it to say that we were interrupted again- not you, that time, she laughs.

Oh, good. Lana shakes her head. I was completely oblivious then, as you know, but I would feel bad. A little. You idiots.

Hmph. We did our jobs just fine. We were careful, she says. Just not with each other.

(There was more to it than that, of course.

She does not tell Lana this part, either, another one of the things that are hers and Theron's alone.)

There was no gentleness in them that day, none of the caution of Rishi where for all their urgency he was half-afraid to touch her and she was half-afraid to hurt him.

Not today. With the first kiss he quiets but not with the second, or the third, soft noises low in his throat when her teeth sink into his lower lip and when she pulls her gloves off to run her hands up his back beneath his shirt because she wants to learn the feel of him, bare skin on bare skin, fingertips gliding over muscles she doesn't know the lines of by sight but so badly wants to.

Her fingernails bite in, careful, not hard enough to mark- too risky with him still making daily visits to the medics, too many possible questions with no good answers- but it's still enough; Theron pivots, half-lifts her with hands squarely on her ass until she's up on tiptoes with her back against the stone wall and his mouth laying lines of kisses that by rights should have left welts, scalding-hot things on the corner of her lip and jawline, her neck and the edge of her ear and her collarbone when he gets the top fastenings of her jacket open.

She unhooks her belt, angles herself to let it drop to the floor behind her. With that movement the last small bit of space left between them closes and ah, there, she can feel him stirring against the press of her hips-

To the Void with patience.

"Theron-" it's undignified, really, the way she's already falling apart from nothing more than his mouth on hers and his fingers tracing patterns on her sides and the curves of her breasts until she can't take this any more, reaches down to cup one hand around him through the fabric still between them and fuck, he's hard. His buckle's fussy, slipping out of her grasp again and again when she tries to unfasten it; after another moment's fumbling he starts to help and then stops abruptly, rests his hands on top of hers. "Theron, what-"

"We shouldn't- I-" He flushes when she squirms against him again, his voice hoarse- Force, why's he stopping- "I forgot to bring a fucking condom, so-"

She doesn't have one with her, either; granted, she hadn't exactly planned on this today. No point in coyness, though. "I'm clean, if that's what you're worried about," she murmurs, shrugging- the way he startles, embarrassed by the implication, that clearly wasn't it- "and I've got an implant. But it's up to you."

He doesn't move for a moment except to close his eyes; she waits, quiet, watching him, forehead resting against his.

(In hindsight of course he had to think about it, of course-

History has a way of repeating itself.)

Then Theron shifts, moves their hands together to undo his belt before he lets her go and stoops to let it down, a nip of a kiss against the flat of her stomach- oh- then straightens up-

And this time it's his comm that goes off.

The noise of it's a howl in the narrow space, so loud that they both startle and she has to turn her head so they don't bump noses. He reaches up to mute it, but it immediately sounds again.

Silencing it a second time with one hand to his temple, he sags against her in frustration, burying his face in the side of her neck with a huff, his words muffled against her skin. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

"Something wrong at camp?"

He sighs. "Meeting. Again. And I'm late for it, apparently."

"Skip it." She winds her arms around his waist. "Fuck 'em. Or better-" a turn of her head, nudging his chin up, dropping her hands lower; she isn't letting him go this time, not so close, not with her pulse still beating in her ears and throbbing hot and vicious between her legs- "fuck me."

"You are," he gasps, closes his mouth on her throat until his teeth sink in and she goes limp between his body and the stone, "unbelieveable-"

-and his comm rings a third time.

"Speaking of unbelieveable." They both go still a few seconds and then Theron starts to pull away, breaking the circle of her arms as she whines in frustration and makes a face that makes him pause. "I know. I know. But I have to go."

"I suppose," she grumbles- she can guess who's ringing, though, and if she's pissed about it he must be furious- "I can take a rain check. Not sure that's the best look for a meeting, though." She glances down pointedly, brushes lightly along his trouser fastenings as he twitches against her touch.

"And you're not exactly helping. Not that I'd normally be complaining, but-"

Well. There's more than one way to solve that particular problem.

"Oh, I'll help, Theron." Smile wicked, she steps around him, turns him round with hands still on his waistband until their positions are reversed and his back's against the wall. "But you're going to owe me."

She's already on her knees in front of him, fingers working at his buttons, before she thinks it quite hits him. "You don't have to-"

If the way he springs into her hand as she pushes his trousers down over his hips is any indication, though, he certainly wants her to; when she takes him in her mouth he moans, trailing off into wordlessness and quiet little sounds as she curls her tongue against him.

It won't be long, she thinks, wound as tightly as he is, standing statue-still like he'll afraid he'll shatter even when she presses in more, the head of his cock deep in the back of her throat as she times her breaths with the strokes of her hand and the slow slide of her parted lips along the length of him. She glances up and when her eyes meet his he finally moves, raises one hand to the side of her head but too tentative, too cautious, holding back-

Unblinking, she rests her hand on his and then tightens her grip, makes his fingers curl and- oh, yes, that's better -

"Stars-" Theron falls back against the wall, cants his hips against her, pulling at her hair just enough to tilt her head and make her hiss in pleasure at the sharp sting of it and the sound of his voice, not so quiet now, louder moans over the soft wet noises of her mouth- "please-"

(-oh, the way he looks at her-)

She closes her eyes, quickens her pace.

After another minute, perhaps, he brings his other hand to her shoulder and she looks up again as he starts to push her lightly back. He's nearly there now, to judge by his ragged breathing, and he pushes again, more insistent.

"I'm- ah, fuck, I'm so close, you should-"

She keeps focus on him and only nods, ever so slightly- it's hard to move except to keep in rhythm, the way he's still holding on to her in reflex even as he's trying to give her the option but oh, she doesn't mind it; it means he wants this, wants her, and that's the important thing- and keeps going, murmuring agreement that comes out muted, a low hum in her throat he can probably feel more than hear. Whether that's what pushes him over the edge she can't be sure, but in the next moment he tenses, bites his lip, shifts grip from her shoulder to cup the nape of her neck-

-and he comes, gasping out her name, and it sounds strange and right all at once.

She can taste him, hot and salt-sweet on the back of her tongue; she swallows, once and then again, meeting a second sharper spike that must have surprised him, too, the way his eyes go wide before he finally stills and lets his hands fall away.

With a last flicker of her tongue over the tip of his cock as she pulls away, she rocks back on her heels. He could move now if he chose, enough room to step away from the wall. He doesn't, and before she can raise a hand to wipe her face he's reaching down for her again, lifting her up to pull her close.

"Come here," Theron says, and kisses her, even with the taste of him still on her lips- she did not expect that, could count on one hand, probably, the lovers she's ever had who've done that; she makes a pleased little sound against his mouth. "That was-" he grins, out of breath- "you are good at that."

"You're welcome." She tries, and fails, not to look too smug at the compliment. "But I believe you've got a meeting to go to."

"Don't remind me."

"At least you've got something to think about if you get bored." She winks, taking a step back- he really does need to go, unless they want someone to come looking for him. "Like I said. You owe me."

He smirks. "Oh, I'll come up with something. Don't worry."

"I'll hold you to that. Now go."

She hands him his belt and smooths down his rumpled clothing, one last teasing kiss before his comm chimes a fourth time and as he darts outside he answers it, the irritation in his still half-breathless voice palpable as he moves from earshot.

She should head back herself.

But Force, even with him gone her heart's still pounding, a sharp restless ache deep in her core; she'll have to take the speeder back but the idea of it between her thighs isn't what she wants at all. She'd much rather it was Theron, his fingers or his mouth or, now that she knows the shape and curve of it, even better-

She leans back against the wall, undoes her waistband and slides her hand down into the slick wet heat of her cunt- she ought to have more control than this, more discipline, she knows better, but she- oh- thinks of him, the way he'd feel pushing into her and fuck, fuck, fuck-

As she brings herself off, fingertips grinding frantic and ungentle until her orgasm hits her like a rifle shot and knocks the breath from her body, she says his name, again and again, into the quiet dark.