12 – Sex
They were rough.
Years of lightsaber training had shaped Jaina's hands. Add a lifetime of meddling with mechanics: her skin smelt both like engine grease and softly-scented soap. In winter, the knuckles on the back of her hand cracked open and bled because she refused to use gloves. In summer, they were warm.
Nothing on earth compared to the feeling of Jaina's hands on his skin.
So small, so incredibly strong, just like Jaina herself. Her hands travelled up his arms, up till they reached his shoulders, and then down his chest. Jag shivered and leaned forward to kiss her.
A/N: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!