Chapter One: Setting the Stage

Rosita swayed on the spot as her husband read out loud the messages between her and her lover. With every line he read, it became harder for her to breathe, until all she could think of doing was falling on her knees and ridding herself of the vile concoction writhing her gut with nausea.

"I can't wait to taste you again?" Spenc read, frowning at the message. A look of comprehension passed over his face. "Do you mean to tell me you let that creature put its dick in your mouth?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but only gaped soundlessly at him. What was she supposed to say, the truth? He would hate the truth.

"You're a disgusting slut, Rosita. Disgusting."

"Spenc—"

"No!" he snapped, his face twisting into a harsh and brutish snarl. "You don't get to speak. Don't you dare say a fucking word." He paced back and forth, clutching her datacom in his taut fist. Behind him, the wind moved their thin white drapes aside, offering a brief glimpse of Coruscant's nightscape above their bedroom's balcony.

If only he would move out the way. Then she could run and jump for it.

"What will your parents say?" he asked. "I'm telling them, by the way. They should know their daughter fucks aliens now."

"Don't you dare!" she spat and, finally, her voice gained some bite to it. "This is between us."

"They'll disown you."

"Let me fix this!" Rosita inhaled sharply and prepared herself for the inevitable onslaught. She couldn't hold back any more, the tears paved lines down her made up cheeks—she hadn't had the chance to wash her face yet. "I can fix this!" she sobbed.

"I never cheated on you. Never! And I could have! Countless times. But I never did."

"I didn't mean for you to get hurt. I—"

"How did this happen?" he shot across her. "I didn't even know you were in contact with Thrawn, and now I find out that you've been fucking him? That sniveling cretin tried to get us expelled from the RIA! Did you forget that?"

What use was there to explain any of it? It would only make him angrier. But Spenc wanted to know everything.

Every sordid detail.

So she took a deep breath and started from the beginning.

"I saw him on Empire Day at the Motti gallery," she began with a heavy sigh, winding her arms tightly around her middle. "Like, three years ago. It wasn't a pleasant reunion or anything."

"Oh yeah? Did the two of you sneak off and rut in the washroom then?"

"What?" her nose scrunched, and she shook her head so hard the world spun around her. "No! I still hated him—he was still such a know-it-all, impressing everyone with all his knowledge on Aristicrotle. He took the words right out my mouth. It was so annoying. But then everyone left, and we were standing there alone together. We talked about him—Aristicrotle—and… it was nice. Thrawn was funny, though still an emotionless droid. Remember how we used to call him that?"

"Does Not Compute," Spenc said, letting out a ragged breath. "Gilroy came up with that."

She lifted her arms and jerked stiffly, giving her best impression of a protocol droid. "Droid Does Not Compute."

Spenc stared at her. On any other night, he would have grinned his little sideways grin and flounced her impression with his own imitation of droid-Thrawn. She let her arms fall back down to her sides and dug inside for the courage it took to continue.

"So, we were talking," she went on, "And I ended up inviting him to the Antique Fly Show. Rumour had it there was going to be an actual Aristicrotle there, on auction. So, I thought, why not? He likes Aristicrotle. I like Aristicrotle. It was silly, but I knew you were going back to the Seswenna Sector for work, and I knew I'd be lonely when you were gone."

"You have plenty to do when I'm away and plenty of people worth spending your time with." He folded his arms and watched her with an unimpressed frown.

"I know that!" she cried with exasperation. "I just… it was our conversation that made me invite Thrawn. He's quite knowledgeable, we couldn't help but exchange our thoughts. You know how that makes me…" she trailed off.

"Wet?" Spenc supplied.

"Feel stimulated."

"Didn't you buy that painting? The Aristicrotle?"

"I did." She reached up and scratched the back of her neck, remembering how she wanted to impress Thrawn—remembering the smirk on his face because he realized this.

Spenc frowned. "Go on then. What made you actually go through with sleeping with him? He isn't even human, Rosita! Talk to them? Sure. Work with them? What other choice do we have? But to fuck one? Stars!" he shuddered visibly. "You're my wife! My wife! I don't know if him being an alien makes it worse. I don't know, but the thought of him or anyone touching you like that, enjoying you like that—" he shook his head vigorously.

"You should understand. You're my husband."

"Understand what?"

"WHY!" she bellowed. "YOU SHOULD UNDERSTAND WHY I DID IT!"

He laughed a cold laugh that made her take an instinctive step back.

"I don't care why," he said. "Tell me. When? When did this happen? I was with you the entire time that Empire Day."

It took all her strength and restraint not to snort. Was Spenc joking, or did he not remember? "You left. You said you'd seen the Motti Gallery one too many times and that you were bored, so you left to meet with Tagge and Boervox."

Spenc moved to sit on the bed and put his face down in his palms. "So, I shouldn't have left. Is that it?" his words were muffled behind his hands, but she still heard the regret in his voice.

She took a step towards him but stopped and watched him with a dark fascination—it was possible to reduce such a man to this?

When Spenc lifted his face from his hands, she saw that it was wet with tears. "Do you actually—?" He glowered, unable to voice the question she knew was burning him inside.

Do I love him?

"You said you first reunited three years ago? So this whole time, the two of you were fucking?"

"No," she replied meekly. "We were only acquaintances at first. Then friends."

And now I love him.

"Friends." He spat the word out like it was the galaxy's worst joke. "How many times did he violate you, this 'friend' of yours?"

Violate me? "I don't know." She scratched her arm and looked down at the floor. Thrawn had never violated her. If anything, she had violated him.

"Just once," Spenc said for her. She looked back up and saw that his eyes had glazed over, unfocused, staring straight through her as if she wasn't there.

"What?"

"It happened once." He picked up the datacom from the bed and stood up. "Thrawn raped you. And we're going to take care of it. "

Her hand found the plunging neck of her lace nightgown, and she fiddled with it. Hearing but not quite understanding Spenc's words.

"A datacom," he said drily. "Very clever of you. There won't be any history logged to the Core-Net server, or anywhere else for that matter. You don't want to leave this marriage with next to nothing, and our prenuptial agreement states that if one of us cheats the other gets everything. And yet, even still, you couldn't keep your legs closed, could you?"

"I'm so sorry." She wiped her face with the backs of her hands, only managing to smear tears over her blotchy cheeks. "Please believe me!"

"Yes, I bet you are sorry. And that alien will be too. This will be his undoing." He held up the datacom and shook it in her face. "Your cunning."

…

Several days later, Rosita asked that Thrawn come to their spot. Their spot being her property on Chandrila. It was nothing fancy, just a place she could go barefoot for a time and let her hair down from out of those elaborate hairdos required to keep up with the latest fashion trends.

He arrived with his little black bag, filled always with the same items inside. A change of clothing, several undergarments, pajamas that Rosita never let him wear, a smaller bag for his toiletries, and a present just for her. Nothing too expensive, but so tailored to her needs that she sometimes wondered if he hacked her data-system. He told her it was her body that told him what she needed; she only gasped and made him sweat enough to prove it.

Today would be no different—except for everything.

"You came," Rosita said when he walked through the door of the cottage, her pulse raced with nerves. The cottage climbed down to a lake one could admire through the large back viewports. But it was night now, so all there was to admire was him.

"Why would I not come?" he asked, tilting his head in that way of his. He looked around the room, taking in a deep breath. "I do like the smell of wood," he added thoughtfully.

"So you've said." She stared at the back of his black shirt, tracing the v of his shoulders, and following him down the hall as if she was the guest and not him.

"Why would I not come?" he repeated. "You know I have leave days available." He turned and leaned against her kitchen island, his fingers tapping the synth-marble.

"I thought you would know better. Don't you know everything?"

He stared at her in silence, red eyes tracing over her with lightning speed, missing nothing. He must have seen some of the truth because his shoulders sagged ever so slightly and his lips pouted. But he didn't see enough. How would he know to run when she had worked so hard to earn his trust?

Her tears made him go blurry, and she reached up to pinch her lips between her thumb and forefinger to avoid yelling at him to go away. Before I take your poor life.

"Rosita?" Thrawn closed the distance between them. His hands traveled down the back of her arms once he drew her in closer.

"We knew this would end one day," she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "So, let's end it."

"End it?" he murmured, releasing her then reaching up to smooth his inky coloured hair back. "I ignored reason," he continued under his breath. "Now I must face the consequences."

"Why did we even start this?"

"Attraction," he declared solemnly. "I do not feel it very often, and so I was powerless against it."

"But why continue? Once could have been enough. We knew it was wrong, so why did we keep doing it?"

"I can only speak for myself in this, and for me it was…" he trailed off, mouth twisting to the side. "For me, it was simply a matter of feeling contented by your challenges. What is more, it is bliss to be inside you." He reached down and cupped her pussy, dragging his hand down and gripping it hard and shamelessly. "For my fingers, for my tongue, and this."

He removed his hand and took hers, placing it against his crotch. It was so warm, and Rosita swore she could feel his blood rushing there, even through the fabric of his pants. He had told her once that the Chiss had hotter core temperatures, to better tolerate the cold.

"Nothing compares to us now," he went on, and she closed her eyes to feel the baritone of his voice. "None of my old pleasures. And though I knew it could only last for a short time and that my actions lacked honor on all fronts, I still had to have you."

She nodded. Her face crumpled in pain, and her tears now fell in streams down her face. She sagged against him so he couldn't see them, but he took her by the chin.

"There is no need for these." He wiped her face with the back of his index finger, drying her as thoroughly as he was thorough when making her wet.

"It's over, Thrawn. That's why I invited you here. To end things."

"I know," he said. "I had a feeling of impending doom. I attributed it to work. I have been slipping recently, those rebels—Phoenix Cell—now I know it is not them to blame, but you."

She stared imploringly at him. The worst part was that he would hate her soon, and understandably so. To save her marriage, Thrawn would have to hate her; it was the only way.

"I meant that as a compliment to you," he said, misinterpreting her silence for once. "You affect me deeply."

"I know," she muttered. "And I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

There was every reason to be careful. Thrawn was intensely intelligent. He deconstructed schemes with the smallest amount of evidence. She had to distract him.

Rosita pulled him down to meet her mouth, stopping short of brushing his lips and said, "If this is to be our last time together, I want you to make it count."

Why did he have to be so selfish? Why couldn't he refuse?

They grunted together, not even making it to the bedroom, but finding the couch with their lips welded and their pelvises rocking together in desperation.

"Cum in me," she demanded while he spread her legs and lined himself up. "I want us to do this properly."

He pulled away and stared down hard at her. "We do not know if—"

"I don't care," she growled, claiming his mouth with hers again. Then she did as she was instructed beforehand: she bit down hard on his lips, broke the skin, and drew blood.

Thrawn groaned helplessly and his buttocks rose and fell with a frenzied urgency.

"Don't you dare stop." She wiped his blood from her mouth onto a white decorative pillow and lifted her hips to get the most of this last time.

It was so wrong. And yet, somehow, he managed to make it feel so good.

Cue the music: The Doors- Light my Fire