"Did you see the training mandates for the upcoming weeks?"
"I did. I get the same notifications you do."
"I need help with one. I've no experience and would like to practice before instructing my company."
Vau frowned. "I can understand that. Surely Fett might-"
"I'd prefer you. If you're amenable. If not I'll find someone willing to indulge me."
Vau's eyebrow tipped up. Her heart pounded a bit… nerves, she assured herself. Not fear.
"Which weapon do you need my advice on?" he asked.
She rose and laid in front of him a flimsy printed with the schedule modifications.
"Jango has noted that he'd like them to have rudimentary understanding of human reproduction… an overview of sex. And growing up here I'm as clueless as they a-"
Vau nearly swallowed his tongue. "You want me to have a sex talk with you so that you can pass it on to your troops?! For kriff's sake—get Skirata to talk to your batch!"
"No," she said smiling at him. "I'd like to have some practical knowledge of the subject. I'm more than ready to shed my innocence if you'd be willing to oblige me one evening."
"What!" he growled it.
"It's up to you. You know how to find me if you decide to fit me into your schedule."
And she left the damned room before he could organize his thoughts to berate her.
.
.o0o.
.
Two days passed without their paths crossing. On the third Walon stalked past her in the corridor, only to turn around and backtrack. He grabbed her arm and swung her around.
"I'd like to talk to you."
"Did you look at your schedule?" she asked.
"Kriff. No. And stop that line of thought. What the hell's gotten into you?"
"I didn't think you'd be offended. I wanted you, but if the idea is so repulsive there are others-"
He slammed her against the wall hard enough to jar her teeth even with the beskar. Her helmet, swinging from her belt, rang out as it slapped against the permasteel.
"Do not toy with me. I will not have you running through the cuy'val dar seeking a willing bedpartner."
"If the answer is no, I'll do as I please and you've no say in it. Release me."
"Like hell I will, with those thoughts in your head."
Her brows shot up and a wiser man would have noticed the calculation coming into her eyes. To say nothing of the jaw that shot out, tilting the face so that her grimace was clear.
"I'll remind you that I outrank you. Several times over. I may be your junior in years-"
"Decades, Ad'ra. You're my junior by decades."
She ground her teeth. Spoke through her tightly clamped jaw. "Be that as it may, I am the Adenn, second only to the Manda'lore, and you will release me or-"
"Or what?" he hissed. "You'll go to Jango Fett and tell him that we've had a disagreement about whether or not I'll be serving as your stud since you've decided you're mature enough to play as a woman does with a man?"
She shot out one hand, then the other, locking an ankle around his and shoving him back. His mien was hot and furious as he took the two backwards steps he needed to regain his balance.
"A simple no was all the answer I needed from you. It is no longer your affair," she reminded him.
"Piss on that," he told her. His hand reached out to halt her progress again and again she found herself hauled around, this time held just far enough off the ground so that her toes scrambled for purchase. His hands trapped her forearms against her shoulders and his legs pressed hers back against the wall so that there was no space for her to launch a counterattack.
"Why did you come to me? Who else did you speak with?"
"That's what you're worried of now," she sneered. "Afraid you wouldn't be the first? Too good to be second choice."
"You make me want to bang your head against this wall until your kriffing thick skull cracks."
"I'm going to kill you the minute we're done with this mission," she responded in quiet tones.
"Why me?" he insisted, easing back just enough to slam her against the wall again. Her head did make contact this time, rocking forward and back again.
"It seemed like a good idea at the time," she hissed. "I trusted. Instead I'll chose another when the time is right."
"Fuck that."
He surprised both of them by hauling her against him and trapping her hair in his fist, pulling her head back. His mouth was hard and demanding; punishing, although he didn't move to part her lips so that he could delve more deeply.
He released her, using more force than necessary to let her go, so that this time it was she who stumbled a half step back.
"No," he simply said before stalking away on his original trajectory.
Ad'ra let herself rest against the wall for a moment, her hands on her knees. Her thoughts ran to murder and anger. And arousal beyond what her untutored body had managed to evoke before. Straightening, she lifted a shaking hand to her lips, then pulled her glove off to let her fingertips splay over the tender bruised feeling.
Vau managed to avoid the topic by exerting an even more demanding training regimen on his troopers. He fell into bed and told himself he was too exhausted to think about the girl-warrior when he was only logging a couple of hours a night between the sheets. Told himself that… even when his dreams smelled of her hair and he woke rigidly hard every morning.
.
.o0o.
.
There was no avoiding each other completely. Vau's rank and experience, and his damnable efficiency in getting results from his company of trainees meant that they were often at the same meetings. And, upon occasion, privy to invitations to join Fett in his apartment or the staff lounge for cards or other pursuits.
Jaig smiled and rubbed his hands together on one such evening. His luck had been in the previous week and he was looking forward to rubbing it in a little.
"Where's little Ad'ika?" he asked suddenly.
"She's not coming. Has something primed, I'm sure," Fett complained. Dealt. "You know how subversive she is. I'm pretty sure her batch could raise an insurrection and none of us would know it until the grey freaks sent out a memo."
"It's good practice for them," the older man said as he arranged and then rearranged the cards in his hand. Just needed a rising sun to make it work. Any rising sun. "She was a good choice, Fett. I know things have their ups and downs, but she's done well with the 4th. They'll be ready to go right behind the original units. And damned well might just win the war as she boasts."
The others gathered round chuckled. Jaig was self-appointed ba'buir to both Ad'ra Adenn and Boba Fett since they lacked their true grandfathers, good men who had passed to the manda to march on other fields.
H.G. snickered. "She's been hell on wheels this last week or so."
"Gotta be hormones," Fett noted, gnawing on an unlit cylinder of baccy. He passed two more cards to replace the ones discarded.
"She'd cut you if you suggested it. Rav thinks she's mooning," Jaig chided. "Pining, like. Although I'll be fekked if either of us can quite figure out who the lucky man might be."
Fett groaned. "I thought we'd managed to skate by that portion of child-rearing."
"Miss Liam more than ever?"
"Like you would not believe. Dealer takes two." He reorganized his cards. Nodded at the man to his left. "The only comfort I have is that wherever he is, hopefully he can con some god or deity into smiting the kid she's picked out with some kind of limp dick disease."
That made the other two snicker.
Bets were made. Cards were dealt. Traded, held, or moved into the stream. A triumphant Hashery Ghett raked in winnings at the end of the hand and the next round started.
"Sure moves fast, just the three of us," he murmured. Frowned. His eyesight wasn't what it had been a decade ago when it had just been the three of them fairly regularly.
"What was Walon doing?" Jaig asked him. His eyesight was still sharp as ever. Of course, he didn't teach hand-to-hand techniques, so far fewer blows to the head over the last seven or eight years.
"Dunno," H.G. told him absently. "Hit me with all eight, I guess."
"Crap hand," Fett snickered.
The other man ignored the jibe.
"I'll just try for the one again," Jaig called. Glanced at the card face-down in the middle of the table. Tried willing it to be his card. Sighed when he flipped it. So much for the power of positive thinking. "Strange for him to miss, though. He usually likes a game of chance."
"I wasn't digging any further. He's been in a crap mood. Let him stew."
Fett smirked. "I didn't realize he had moods. I thought that was the only personality his programmers wrote when they activated him."
H.G. guffawed. "He runs the gamut of icy to foul." He held up one card to show he was trading. Flicked an extra token into the kitty before Fett slid him his replacement.
"I don't see what she sees in him," Fett mused. "Of all people here for her to decide to idolize and emulate… He's like the antithesis of Liam."
They agreed that his best friend had probably been the most cheerful hitman in any galaxy far and wide.
"Maybe if Gil happens on a wonder drug for PMS we can test it on him before we slip it to Rav and Ad'ra."
Jaig shook his head. "Boys, boys, boys! Play nicely."
"The only good thing about him is that if he finds out who pissed her off he'll take him out," Fett said.
He made his own play. Bumped the pot when he paid the kitty.
"Hell, if he beat her to the bloke… that's probably why she's miffed with him," Jaig agreed.
"Ad'ra's irritated with Walon?" Fett asked.
"They're like oil and vinegar," H.G. said dismissively. "Can't get it together if they want to get along or not."
Fett watched him, his hand poised on the deck. A look of consideration crossed his face.
Instead of dealing he hit his comm'link.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"Nothing."
Sometimes it was like she was every bit the adult he was. Sometimes that teenager took over and her mouth was more attitude than he could handle.
"I need a fourth. Come play."
"I don't feel like it," she said in a quieter voice. "Make Skip do it. Or Asirel."
"Jaig will worry about you if you don't at least sneak in to steal food and count cards for him."
She giggled.
"I have chocolate," he sang like gravel on shipskids to the blue image.
"I'm already dressed for bed."
"It's barely dark."
"My boss is an ass and I've been working twenty-hour days."
"You wound me, Ad'ra Rottske. You cut me. Real deep. Who's going to distract your ga'vod'ika for me when you get tired of playing?"
"Let him toss a ball for Mird."
"Mird's not here. Walon skipped, too."
There it was. The briefest of hesitations.
"Then send Boba down with a plate. He can hang out with me while you guys tell osik-loaded tales of the one that got away."
Fett chuckled and hung up no her.
Filed that pause in the back of his mind to deal with later. He'd raised a hundred-plus mini-warriors through their pseudo-teens. He was damned if he could keep up with this woman-child and her mercurial moods. Walon Vau didn't have emotions? Hell, that was probably why they gravitated together before striking and going on opposite offensives. It was because she'd gotten all of them.
He yelled for Boba, though, and made his night by asking if he wanted to run some biscuits next door.
.
.
He wasn't there to intercede with mood-boosting chocolate when Vau went off on some diatribe at the breakfast table after extended night maneuver ge'kaan.
"Are you taking male performance enhancers?" Ad'ra interrupted his sarcastic rant.
"Am I… what!?"
"Just asking," she told him with her lips pursed primly. "Because you're being about twice as big a dick as you usually are."
The men around the table with them guffawed. Rav's hoot was cut off when he stood, his chair shooting backward, and jerked her up by the arm. He dragged her, Ad'ra's boots skittering and unable to get purchase from the angle in which he held her. The grip he had on her arm twisted it around and he'd looped his fist around her wrist, hauling it up to keep her scrabbling.
"Don't kill her!" Vhonte called. "Jango would be pissed if he had to do his own filing."
Ad'ra dared to laugh at him when he slung her up against the wall. Leveled his finger at her.
Stalked away a few meters, then turned toward her again.
"Do not question my masculinity just because-"
"Oh, stuff it. Nobody thinks you actually are."
"What the hell do you know about that sort of thing anyway?"
"What does it matter to you, if you're not interested in sharing my bed? Unless you do need a little help in that department and-"
He'd woken up with a hard-on to rival any he'd had in his twenties for more days than he wanted to count. He could smell her coming when they happened to occupy the same space and his dick seemed to shoot to attention at the very idea of her proposition.
She glanced down as though she were examining her nails.
"If that's your hangup, I can assure you that a lot of men—especially men under stress—develop similar symptoms and there are multiple options as far as treatments and alternatives. If you need to consult Dr. Gilamar or schedule a delivery, I can certainly wait."
The air rushed out of her when he pressed himself against her, trapping her between his heat and the wall. Ground his hips suggestively against hers.
"I assure you, were I inclined to fuck you, I am well able to do so."
He watched her, eyes boring into hers. She tried to play it cool but he saw the nerves in her, read it in the tremble that went through her.
"Having second thoughts?" he asked her.
She shook her head. Her eyes were wide and afraid and she swallowed hard.
"You probably should," he warned.
"I won't," she promised. "I know my mind."
"You couldn't possibly."
He sneered at her. His gaze traveled her face, up to her hair, tilted obviously to take in the streaks of color twisted back in intricate braids from her temples. This expression showed his dismissal.
"You're a child. Acting out like a child. Someone should have taught you to respect your elders."
He jerked away from her. Stalked down the hall.
"There's less years between us than there are between Rav and Jaig."
The response was thrown over his shoulder without looking back. "I doubt it. And Rav's got years' of experience on you."
"I could make it an order."
"You wouldn't dare."
"What if I did?"
Now he stopped. His hands hit his hips as he turned, one brow lifted sardonically as he stared at her.
She'd crossed her arms, lifted her foot to rest on the dull white wall. The monochromatic scheme was everywhere. Once upon a time her father had chastened her not to mar it, not to mark it up. Now she seemed to delight in giving the housekeeping droids fits.
Petulant child.
"I'd ignore it," he said in a dismissive tone intended to antagonize and perfected over the years.
She was no longer shaped like a child. At some point those coltish long legs of hers had gotten some curve, some shape to them. When the hell had that happened?
He decided he liked her better in the beskar'gam that hid the places she'd filled in, the places she'd slimmed up and the places where the utilities showed she'd filled out. In the fekking armor he wouldn't be able to see the lips that parted slightly on her exhalations. The way her breaths lifted her chest. He didn't know why his gaze seemed caught by the shape of her nails gripping her elbows.
She was a child. Except that she wasn't.
How old was she now?
Young. Too young.
"I didn't propose marriage, Sergeant," she snickered.
"The fact that you still call me sergeant illustrates exactly what our relationship is and should remain."
"What name would you prefer if I took you to bed?" she asked, those dark brows winging up.
Vau shook his head. Put on a look of cool, blank indifference.
"I can't think of a damn thing I'd want you to call me."
Lie.
"The answer's still no," he spat out.
He had to detour to his room before venturing anywhere else. Poured himself a stiff drink. Contemplated a cold shower.
Took a long, hot one instead. He was going to rub himself raw over this osik.
.
.o0o.
.
"Kolar, Mando'ad."
The Mandalorian contingent needed no further instruction. Their aruetiise cohorts responded to Fett's message: "I'd like you assembled, all of you, and in uniform."
The muster order he dropped indicated he wanted their presence in the massive review hall. In very short minutes. Commando cadets suddenly dropped everything, too, responding to the less-politely worded demand that summonsed them post haste into formation. Some marched, some had to all-out run. Columns of men and youth in various types of boots created a symphony as they formed up in neat rows and hustling squares of men. Row upon row upon row of men, finding their places along the sides of the great chamber, on the mezzanine where some of them had been directed, and even filling the upper levels.
Non-Mando instructors watched with interest as their Mandalorian counterparts greeted each other and clumped together in the big open space. They prearranged themselves in loose lines, waiting.
All of them came to silence when the great double doors of the lift opened and Jango Fett marched out, his Adenn right behind him. Dread Priest, Mij Gilamar, and Kei're Hosch Tiethe' were behind them and were immediately gestured into the masses by Ad'ra Rottske. Her voice rang out, calling they assembled to attention.
They obeyed, striking their fisted hands against their thigh plates at they came bolt upright.
Ad'ra did likewise before doffing her helmet and making an obeisance to Fett, head bowed to reveal the scar at the bones clear for all to see where her bodysuit ended. The others hastened to comply as well and suddenly there was a ripple of stomps, slams, and then the sound of dozens and dozens of armored bodies taking a knee ringing against the metal flooring.
The troopers and commandos had no frame of reference for anything other than standing at attention—which they were already doing.
It was a show of respect rarely demonstrated by the Mandalorian contingent. One shown more often by Marshal of Mand'Alor's troops. She was his second in command and the vow to be the merc's merc meant she'd take any order, carry it through. And carry the weight of any failures on behalf of those she mustered.
"At-Ease!" Ad'ra's clear voice rang out as she rose.
Fett removed his helmet and nodded, his voice commanding and clear without having to raise or amplify it as his Adenn had. He was addressing the seventy-five rather than the thousands.
"Fall in. Dha Werda Verda. On my mark."
A rare day, indeed, then. Especially demonstrated in front of so many of their units. Plus the aruetiise who most of them considered little more than civilians.
There was a slight ripple, a shuffle, and lines were suddenly formed without further need of instruction. A giant square of them, eight or nine in a row, with Fett taking his place in the middle.
Kal Skirata, Wad'e Tay'haai, and Rav Braylor had automatically formed up near the front when they'd seen Gil and Priest flanking Fett. None of them liked the psychotic man and his female accomplice and would back up their compatriot. Fett's inner circle of advisors always took their places at the front of the formation. Jaig and Hashery Ghett were grinning. Most of them loved the display of prowess and control. Ad'ra growled when Fett's gesture had her taking her place at his right side—immediately next to Walon Vau. She stepped in, responding to knowing the smirk with a jerk of her head.
He snickered when her fist came at him, halting just short of touching his breastplate.
So she wasn't over their little snit yet.
That was fine.
He gave her a superior glance.
"Weak," he hissed, his eyes flashing as they turned. Leaned forward to hiss in her ear. "What do you prove by acting so infantile except that I was right to deny you?"
The scent of her was heady and he recognized that she must have been engaged in some type of exertion before answering Fett's summons for her hair to still be damp with the proof of it. He wondered if the previous effort would tell on her now that she was being demanded upon to perform the ritualistic cadences. Jesu, the mix of sweat with whatever shampoo she used turned his stomach. That's what he told himself. It was like—
Wham!
Her fist drove into his face with a loud crack and she smiled a self-satisfied little smile up at him as she turned away to pound on Fett's back.
He grimaced and told himself not to check his own fists as he beat on her armor in turn.
Not that she'd feel it in the damned beskar.
She kriffing caught him again on the next loop, managing to knock his jaw so that his spine jerked as his head flew back.
There were a couple of curious looks, but no one intervened and no one hesitated to continue the song or stomp. He caught her elbow the next time and shot her a warning look. Four rotations later he clamped his hand around her fist.
"Do it again," he threatened.
"The slight is mine and I will-"
He let go of her, caught Mij's fist on his shoulder plate, and struck her with his own in turn. On the way up he popped her under the chin the way a man might scold a child to look at him.
It was on.
Both of them were bleeding when Fett turned his head at the heavy sound behind him. He lifted his brows but allowed it to continue. He'd not missed the increase in tension between the two of them and they hailed to a warrior paegan. If they needed to work out a little frustration… well, to be honest that's what he'd hoped this whole display would do. Hadn't expected it to be that particular pair, but who was keeping score?
"Force Almighty," he objected when a blow to the face sent a splatter of blood onto his own armor. "She's a child, Walon!"
"A fact I brought up to her myself."
"I can stand for myself," the woman in question grunted. She returned the elbow blow. He laughed through it, through the pain that he knew was coming, even though it made his eyes water.
Ad'ra was the first one to let out a sound of pain. Just a little bit of a grunt that cut her off mid-word as her voice lifted in chant. He'd gotten her good. His own contribution to the song ended in a chuckle, which she wasn't prepared to let go unavenged. Without waiting for it to fit the song she slung her elbow backwards with another soft exclamation, catching him completely off guard and damn near crushing his windpipe. See him chuckle while he chokes.
Vau reached out automatically, clipping her shoulder forward while he swept her ankle toward him with his foot. She lurched forward, knocking into Fett.
He didn't approve and it showed on his face.
Vau's next onslaught took her to her knees. Her reaction to it had him crashing to the floor as well, before both of them regained their feet with the practiced ease of familiar combatants.
They didn't even bother turning with the dance, although each returned to their place in the formation before taking up their defensive positions. Their arms shot out, exactly as called for, only striking hard blows upon the other, raining fists, elbows, and feet upon the hard protective armor.
Fett stepped up one row, Priest and Reau flanking him on one side with Mij and Skirata coming forward on the other so that the brawling Cuy'val Dar were encircled and the dance could continue.
He wanted to keep an eye on them. Cut them off if it looked to get too brutal.
Of course, he also wanted to see just how brutal each of them wanted it to get.
Brutal-brutal, it turned out.
Weapons came out and it turned into sparring, while the rest of the training battalion kept up the tempo around them. Vau's lethal Beskad rang out against her Kal. It amused him that both held them in their non-dominant hand, still grappling. He wondered if they realized that they were still timing most of their blows to the stomping and smashing going on around them.
She had him, he thought. Just knew Vau was going down. Then the man threw his weight and it was Ad'ra on one knee, bending forward to sweep his knees out from under him as his weapon passed over her unprotected head. He'd have to kill the chakaar if he took it off her neck for some personality conflict. He was surprised when Ad'ra rolled and tumbled forward a couple times. He imagined Vis's surprise was even greater when she lunged up, taking up the vibrostaff and jerking it free of the other merc's armored strap before gaining her feet.
She didn't even ignite the hand-to-hand tool and came forward again prepared to whale on Walon Vau. He grinned at her, blood dripping from his mouth, his nose, and a cut on his brow. At his grunt Wad'e threw over his bevii'ragir and the pair began anew.
Fett held up his hand when the chant came to its conclusion a third time. Stood in place and kept up the tempo with one foot, both arms repeating the gestures of reaching out, reaching out, then hammering on his own chest plates.
The Mando warriors were quick to catch his intent and instantly fell to, their boots and gauntlets and gloves ringing and crashing. Most of them were more interested in the apparent free-for-all at any rate.
Weaponry swung out, was negotiated or blocked. The man managed to entangle hers with the larger, heavier melee baton. Jerked hard to dislodge it from her grip. It went clattering away, but she had him anyway.
Walon went down, Ad'ra crashing over him, her smaller beskar kal held to his neck, even as the tip of his vibroblade went to the soft underside of her jaw.
"CEASE!" Fett called out. His hands both went skyward in twin fists and the perpetual dance ended as well.
He brought them down.
"I do believe we'll call that a deadlock …" he drawled, clapping in a slow, sardonic way.
The cloned indoctrinees had never seen anything like this display before, not even the ones party to the Vau-and-Kal show's frequent bouts of violent disagreement.
Both of them panted hard, staring at each other with disgust.
Ad'ra turned her head, heedless of the sharp blade at her neck, and spat on the floor.
Blood splattered both of their gear as well as the boots of Rav Braylor. The other woman never flinched.
The younger braced herself on the weapon he held and shoved it into the impermeable membrane of the reinforced flooring as she pushed herself to her feet. Instantly she turned and bowed again to Fett, taking her knee in obeisance and presenting him with the back of her neck.
He snapped his fingers and she rose, turning as Vau gained his feet.
She presented him with her profile—back held straight and rigid, hands going to her hips, chest out and knees loose.
Her lips were bloody around her teeth when she bared them to him.
"Cetar," she demanded in a hiss.
He lifted one brow, one side of his lips curled.
Took his own knee even as he spat to the side, blood and spit and part of a tooth hitting the same spot she'd defiled.
His poleyn barely touched the ground and Fett was murmuring his own demands.
"Take his hand to help him rise, Ad'ra."
The hiss might have amused him under other circumstances. He wasn't, though.
"Vau," he warned, "I suggest you take it."
Ad'ra reached out and Vau did as ordered, clasping her wrist so that she could jerk him to his feet. They sprung apart as though burned. Fett's hands had shot up the instant they'd connected and a cheer surrounded them as they regarded each other.
Fett turned, his manufactured grin fading. His glance included at the upper balcony where a few Kaminoans had been inclined to watch the performance.
"You two pick your fekking moments, don't you? Get cleaned up. And get somebody to clean up this mess."
When Ad'ra moved to follow Fett, Walon's hand at her arm dragged her backward.
Her eyes flashed.
"Stuff it," he snapped. "I want to talk to you."
"You'll have to find another time," she snarled. "I have things to attend."
She bent to pick up her helmet, which had gotten detached during their melee.
"Are you all right?" Mij Gilamar asked softly.
"Fine," she told him.
"Vau?" the physician asked.
There was another smirk. He spat again, just barely turning his face away.
"Always." He lifted his voice. "Come back when you think you can take more. You've a lot to learn, little girl!" he called softly.
"You're a dikut," Braylor told him. "What's crawled up the Adenn's shebs, then?"
"It's between her and me, unless she decides to tell you," Walon declared. He snapped his fingers, halting the sound of the pounding feet approaching from behind them as a company of clones double-timed it to the parade ground.
He reached down, retrieved his weapon, and brandished it at them.
"Beskar steel," he began, demonstrating the cutting edge by shaving it up the side of his own head, "The hardest man-made substance in the galaxy. Keep it sharp and you can shave with it. A proper beskad saber is a foot and a half or so… it should fit with the end of the hilt in the palm of your hand and the tip curved to this vein here at your elbow. In fact, our ancients so relied on this weapon that the entire right side of your armor is referred to as beskade plates and the left kade." He picked up Ad'ra's dropped kad. Tossed it in the air to catch in a knife-fighter's defensive position. "You arm yourself thusly, and—if you've skill—you learn to fight with honor. Taung peoples believe close-hand combat the warrior's highest calling. Who can take me?" His voice boomed out again and he held both weapons wide. "WHO?!"
He was horrific looking, the spot where Ad'ra's smaller blade had pierced his skin burned as sweat mingled with the blood there, at the corner of his jaw.
Ad'ra heard his shout and it made a shiver run down her.
"You okay, ma'am?" the her acting CO asked her. She didn't break her company into squads. They were meant to be a second iteration of the ARCs, intended for solo missions. Instead of assigning permanent roles or ranks she cycled all of them through the company command positions.
"I am. I was thinking about dunking my head, but then I remembered that I have an entire training ground for a 'fresher and you lot need it just as much as I do. Buckets off!" She clapped her hands, gestured forward, and led her men out of the big hangar doors at a jog. Straight into the pouring rain to run in tandem lines up the slippery steps to an observation point.
.
It was hours before she relented, knowing that the beating she'd taken, on top of the day's already strenuous regimen, would have her aching body stiffening if she paused in her industry.
The cold rainwater was well and truly saturated into all of them before she had them moving on to calisthenics. Then they field stripped their weapons as they jogged in place. Then out again into the deluge, her orders to take each flight of steps at a run, halting at each platform to site an aiwha or aiwha-bait. Colored lasers denoted their targets. The ones first to land them in the crosshairs moved on. The others started back at the beginning.
"Ten minute showers," she gasped to the three men who beat her to the top by two steps. Shab. She bent over, putting her hand to the stitch in her side. Grinned up at them.
The laughter on her face was clear for everyone below her when she bent over the rail and yelled out the time to beat. Then she threw up.
Several of the up and coming troops were sufficiently grossed out that they spontaneously echoed that little gift that kept on giving. She screwed up her face. Considered the disaster.
"Kriff." She looked at the sky. Looked down at gagging and appalled troops. "Fek it, Vode. Seven minute showers for everybody! Double time! Now!"
They turned, wet steps even slicker now as rain washed the messes down, their boots slipping. She giggled every time she came near to losing her footing, which made her guys feel a lot better about it. She applauded the first one who decided to go over the rail and used a liquid cable line to rappel down the outside. Soon half of them were swinging, gusts of wind and pounding weather notwithstanding.
They ran as clumps for the barracks, helmets making a racket as they clanked against their armored thighs and weapons held to their chests. She parted ways with them in the entry, jerking her thumb over her shoulder to head them on without her. Usually she ran the whole way with them, said something inspirational, then doubled back and up to her own chamber.
They had flash training that evening, so she was off the hook if she couldn't stand it.
She was leaning on the counter, waiting for the machine in the ready room to turn some blessed imported fruit into juice for her, when Vau stepped in behind her.
He looked like hell.
She was glad to see it.
"Are you concussed?" he asked, concern on his face as he reached for her head.
She pulled away from him. "No! Leave me alone! What is wrong with you?"
"I want to feel if I put a shabla knot on your head, Ad'ra!" he countered, slamming his body against hers to trap her against the counter while he grappled with her hands.
He caught them, locked them in one of his and lifted his left, eyes going unfocused as he felt the shape of her skull through the sopping mess of her hair. She divided it in half, braided it partway from her brow, then did some kind of weave to keep it up. The hours in the cold rain had loosened it, the weight of it adding to her headache. She was tender in a couple of places. Imagined he was, too.
He used his teeth to unseal and remove his glove and she saw the tight binding he'd wrapped around several fingers and his palm before it disappeared beneath his bodysuit. Bruises bloomed in multiple places and where he wasn't bruised was the evidence of her potential for violence. She cataloged multiple abrasions her ferocity had dealt in addition to splitting his lip and the corner of his brow, and opening a short line at his neck. His nose didn't look to be broken, more the pity, but there was crusted blood there, too.
She continued to fight him when he made a sympathetic sound.
"I saw you throw up. Is your vision blurry?"
"No."
"Why did you let them get ahead of you?"
"You do your job and I'll do mine. Shive off."
"You can't let them-"
"Usenye."
"That honied mouth of yours, always so sweet."
When she tried to push past him he hauled her back up again.
"What the fek is the matter with you?" Walon asked her, resuming his exam by pulling out his small multitool and flicking its light back and forth between her eyes.
"Five hours ago you were beating the hell out of me and now you want to play medic? You don't get to decide how and when you lay hands on me!" she objected.
He didn't even meet her gaze. "On the contrary, I believe you invited me to do just that."
"Not like this… this wasn't the-"
He looked down at her mouth again. "Fine then. We need to talk about your little plan. It's flawed and I don't want you to get hurt unnecessarily. You have my posted schedule. I have yours. The first free evening we both have…don't put anything on it. Maybe you won't be so touchy by then. Get Mij Gilamar to do a scan on you. There's no swelling but you flinched."
She didn't even respond. She was trembling—the beginnings of hypothermia, probably. Who the fek took their clones on a fun run in a hurricane in the middle of winter with no buy'ce.
Ad'ra told herself the shaky breath she let out didn't have anything to do with him.
"You'll forgive me if I don't kiss you, won't you?" he teased, laying his lips to her brow instead. He picked up her flimsi cup, sucked down her juice, and then just punched his thigh plates to bring Mird scrambling after him as he jogged lightly away.
He had to have punched in a stim shot, Ad'ra bitched in her mind.
.
.o0o.
.
Vau was running on sharps by that point. His face was throbbing like a bitch in heat and he was pretty sure she'd broken a couple bones in his hand and wrist. He'd removed his glove and gauntlet and taped it up as best he could. The best thing about their chosen anti-uniforms was that they practically immobilized bad injuries for you. At least until they could be professionally set. Unfortunately, she knew exactly how the piece came together and had applied exactly the right pressure to use that to her advantage.
The next time their paths crossed he was in his fatigues to accommodate the syntha-cast secured in a sling around his neck and torso.
Ad'ra had almost forgiven him for being such an ass.
And was completely sure she wasn't sleeping with him even if he wanted to talk about what she'd thrown out there. He probably wanted to lecture her again. Or—Paegans of Mandalore, save her—give her a safety briefing about taking care of herself.
She'd roll with it. Deal with it.
It was her own fault, after all.
"What's this?" she asked when he put down a carton juice.
"I owed you," he smirked.
She smiled, charmed despite herself. Opened it and sucked some down without bothering with a glass or straw. He leaned against the viewport's support bracing, left thumb tucked in his pocket, and watched her like she was a specimen. It was so obvious that he thought himself above everything.
She could be obnoxious, so she offered the open side of the carton to him.
To her utter and complete surprise he took it, sipping just a taste of the sweetened pulp.
His face curled in dislike.
Vau watched Ad'ra roar with laughter.
"That explains so much about you," he told her, his disgust evident.
"Irmenui royal-breds don't drink Porjack? Too peasant for your excellency? Too… bourgeoise?"
"I was thinking it's why you always smell like a child's candy," he told her plainly, bending to nip her bottom lip before straightening and striding off.
The clones eating around her were wide-eyed and went back to eating before she could catch them staring.
She'd taught them to be the quietest in the mess. They could remove their helmets, prepare a meal pack, and eat them quickly—without making a sound. They'd been encouraged as half-sizeds to eat quietly. When they'd been three and six she'd told them that any she could hear slurping or scraping their plates would go without the rest of their meal. They believed her, as she patrolled up and down their tables morning and night, cocking her head this way and that. When they ate in the field—which in Tipoca City meant on the training surfaces—she let them congregate as they would and they were allowed five extra minutes' time for it. Still, a couple years later when Kal Skirata had told her that it was time she loosened up her requirements of silence at mealtime she'd had an answer ready for him.
'They're not squads, Sergeant Skirata. My boys will spend all their time alone. They don't do co-ops. They don't work as a team. They need to be comfortable with the thoughts in their heads—for days at a time sometimes.'
'They're lads,' he'd argued.
'They are. And they're precious to me. So let me teach them to stay sane on a long op when you're trapped in your beskar'gam so long you can taste your stench when you breath.'
It hadn't been the answer he wanted out of her. She sure did get what she wanted out of her men, though.
.
Walon Vau, too, when the time came.
"Your arm must be feeling better," she told him, stalking around the table. Her intent had been to remind him that she'd gotten him down.
"One of the aiwha-bait injected it with stem cells."
Ad'ra looked at him in horror.
He lifted a shoulder. "It's not an unheard of treatment. I wouldn't trust a Spartii version of it, but-" He unwrapped a candy stick and rolled it over his tongue. Just regarded her blandly while she gaped at him. Finally spoke around the hard treat, tucking it to the side between his teeth. "I've got some banked."
"Your own?" she practically shouted. "Are you talking about regrowing your own stem cells?!"
His lip twisted. "I wouldn't use something experimental-"
"I thought you were going down the rabbit hole, Vau! This place is madness and it erodes us the longer we stay here!"
"I told you before I thought you were too sweet and tender to make a good job of it."
When he snickered she reached out and dashed the candy from his mouth.
"For someone bitching about sweetness you sure do seem to crave it."
She tucked in her own cheek. Moved to the opposite end of the table to take her chair beside where Fett would sit at the head of the table.
When they'd begun to shift back, meeting ended, Walon was the first one up, carefully and precisely tucking his chair back under the conference table. He circled around the blank wall, pausing only long enough to reclaim the lolli she'd driven him crazy with for the past three-quarter hour. The thing had bobbed from her lips more often than not, held in her hand while she scrawled on her datapad then held up to be lipped thoughtfully. Turned, lapped, licked, mouthed. The tip sucked before the whole thing disappeared briefly before the whole process started again. He wondered if she knew she was doing it. Bargained against it since she'd seemingly only done it when she was distracted, paying attention to the results being presented by the other individual trainers.
Her voice chirped out a little sound of surprise when he jerked it from her.
He was already past her, so he had the satisfaction of watching her ponytail swing as she sought him. Made sure she saw him grinning when he crunched down on it, breaking it from the disposable stick.
"Could be bad for you, little girl," he told her. "You need to grow up. A lot. Quit sulking and get a grip."
He tossed her the sticky remains. Winked at her as he pushed out of the doors.
"You are such a dick," H.G. told him, chuckling, as he caught up with Vau. "What did she do?"
"Pissed me off."
"She's going to sneak in and kill you in your sleep."
"Very real possibility. Plus, I think maybe Mird likes her better than me."
"Yeah, well, you really know how to win friends and influence people."
"Like taking candy from a babe," he laughed darkly. Tugged on his buy'ce and sealed it. Jogged off.
.
Fett was staring at a seething Ad'ra.
"Whatever it is, the two of you had better come to terms on it."
"It was his way of reminding me that he can outmaneuver me."
"So?"
"So what?"
"So don't let him."
She nodded. Sucked in a breath.
Rubbed her lips together. Wondered if she was crazy for thinking she could taste him.
.
Vau was waiting for Ad'ra at the end of the hallway the next morning. Kicked off of the wall he was leaning against. He secured the helmet he'd been handling to his side.
"Don't you have anything to do around here?" she asked, breaking the seal on her own and tucking it under her arm.
"Some of us are good enough at our jobs we don't have to spend as many hours at them."
She whirled and punched him in the gut. With both of them in the traditional armor it made absolutely no impact.
He laughed, hauled her up against him so she had to walk backwards, so she couldn't get a good hit on him. They'd reached the stairwell and he used the side of his body to open the door, twisting her again once they were through it so that she was trapped between him and the cold duracrete and plasteel.
His eyes went down to her lips. In the moment it took her to decide to argue with him he had both her hands in his, lifted up above her head. Her helmet went rolling down at least a flight of the steps before it crashed to a halt.
"You… you… you can't…"
"I believe I was contracted to do just exactly this," he countered as he lowered his mouth to feast on hers. "Isn't this what you wanted?"
She was shaking her head and he caught her chin in one hand. Felt her fingers clamp around the one that still held them secure.
"Um… your arm… your hand…"
"I'm twice your age. It takes me longer to heal if I don't use something to boost it."
"I understand that," she told him. "It doesn't bother me… the age difference. I think-"
"Let me think about it," he said against her mouth. "I don't like being backed into a corner and I won't have you using sex as manipulation."
She nodded. "Think fast," she begged him when he drew her hip up and toward him.
He didn't bother to respond, mating his mouth furiously to hers before releasing her hands to haul her all the way up against him.
She growled at the frustration of the barriers between them. There was a satisfaction in the solidarity of the embrace, of straining against the rigidity of the suit. The liquid heat he stirred in her belly begged for something more, though, and she tired of waiting.
She needed this madness for him out of her system.
Needed more than romance holo-books and vid-screen plays.
The sound he made nearly undid her and everything in her wanted to drag him to the floor and finish this here and now. His tongue dove past her teeth and, when she gasped, stroked roughly over hers. Owned hers. He trapped hers between his lips and sucked hard on it before plunging again and again into her mouth so that their teeth pressed together. It made her blood pound in her ears and a flush of embarrassment rise to her cheeks. Surely…
Vau felt drunk on her when he blinked his eyes open. He pressed his own lips together without giving her any extra space, his breath coming out in harsh pants against her own.
"If we decide to do this we'll need to come to some kind of understanding…"
His words were like velvet spoken against her temple as he nuzzled her neck, her ear, the corner of her eye, the ridge of her cheekbone.
"I can't think when you do that," she gasped.
He chuckled darkly. "We need to talk first."
She nodded. "Talking first would be a better plan."
"I meant tonight."
"Oh, gods. Tonight. You have a break tonight. Please don't change your mind."
"I've never-" he sounded offended.
She didn't argue with him.
"Ad'ra…"
She went up on her toes to press her closed lips to his again, just as her chrono went off. She jumped again when Fett pinged her before she even recognized the sound.
"Shab…"
"Answer the summons, Adenn," he grinned at her. Started down the steps at a trot. "Hey!"
She barely turned in time to catch the bucket he tossed her.
Just ignored his loud shout of derisive laughter.
She'd forgotten the damned thing wasn't on her head.
Fierfek!
.
.o0o.
.
"You're waiting for me?"
"You're late." She rose from the small table gracing his sitting room as she said it, let her fingertips glide over the back of the chairs as she circled toward him.
"Things ran over."
She rocked her head back and forth. "Lucky for you I'm not a wife. I won't get pissed when a comm call goes out when you're headed back to your berth."
He nodded once. "I went to your chamber to talk to you. You weren't there."
Now a wry smile played over her lips. "Surprise, surprise."
"We never said where. Only when. I thought to go to you."
"You found me." She'd reached him and now reached out to lay hands on him. A considering look on her face, she adjusted and then smoothed the collar of his fatigues. There were flecks of something dark marring the usually-pristine insignia and heavy canvas.
"We need to talk," he emphasized.
She sighed and went back to where she'd already poured herself a glass of something sweet she'd found in his crystal decanter. He followed, hitching his hip up onto the table before taking up the measure she'd not yet drunk and downing it.
"Fierfek, that's good," he hissed.
"Somehow I don't think a critique of foreign liquors is the subject you wanted to broach," she noted.
"We need a couple of rules," he told her without further preamble. He poured a fuller glass this time and offered it to her, spinning the vessel so that her lips would lay where his had. "If we're going to do this-"
"And it looks like we are-"
"There needs to be some groundwork."
"Fair enough."
"You can't call rank on me. Not in here. Not in your chamber. Not when we're meeting like this. Not during… let's call it inter-personal times."
"That's fair."
"If you want to bring up something work-related it needs to go through channels, you hit my comm and set up a meet. But they stay separate."
"Agreed." She sipped, sipped again. Shifted the cup back to face him and held it aloft.
"And I want it to stay separate. I need your head in the game. What you do is dangerous. If you think there's going to be hurt feelings we need to just stop now." He took it, drained it, and handed it back to her.
"Okay, well, I think this is going to happen now regardless, but I agree to your terms."
"I need this to be just physical," he told her bluntly. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since you brought it up. It's driving me crazy. We scratch the itch, do your… research, let's call it, and then we see where we are. If it works, great. If the chemistry isn't there, we shake hands and go back to the way things were. No hurt feelings."
She stopped in the middle of capping the decanter again and rose. "I think, unless one of us goes missing in the next twenty-four hours, that you can pretty much count on there being hurt feelings between us. We're very different people going about difficult jobs in very dif-"
"Blah blah blah. You know what I mean, Ad'ra."
She nodded, reached out to touch his hand where he'd rested it on his knee.
"I agree to your terms. No caveats. So what now?" she asked him.
He smiled, a more relaxed smile than she thought she'd ever seen on him. Then he reached into the inner pocket of his fatigue tunic and drew forth a long-stemmed bloom in shades of delicate, pale blue.
Her mouth seemed to form a perfect 'o' and freeze there as she accepted it. He watched her brush one of the petals with her fingertip before a smile breached her utter surprise.
"What's this?"
"It's a rose. A typical part of the wooing process is the giving and receiving of small tokens; in the early stages the male can count on flowers to get him out of trouble… back in good graces if he's screwed up. Plus they're expected for certain holidays and events."
She was still examining the folded petals. "Where did you get this?" Her amusement colored her words.
"We're short any nice hothouses here on Waterworld," was his wry reply. "I made it out of an old schematic I had laying around. You like blue, so it worked."
She giggled and clutched the bud to her chest. She was ridiculously pleased.
"It works," she agreed.
"In a normal social setting it would be acceptable and even expected that the gift be acknowledged with some show of affection. If we're still in the flirting stage a peck on the cheek. If we've moved to courtship a hug, maybe a light-hearted kiss."
She laid the flower on the table beside the unused glass and stepped in closer to him. Leaning forward she pressed her closed lips to his and told herself that her hands weren't shaking.
"Thank you. It's perfect. And I love that you made it."
He nodded and let her straighten, watching her with heavy lidded eyes.
"We're not courting," he told her. She let her expression match his and nodded. He jutted his chin in her direction. "You started this."
"I did."
He reached out, gripping her hips, and jerked her to stand inside the alcove his legs made where he half-sat on the table.
"Then kiss me," he ordered, his fingers clenching into the soft flesh of her as he took her lips again.
.
This time there was no chastity in the kiss. He opened her mouth under his and plunged his tongue past her teeth, groaning when her hands came up to his chest to brace herself. She whimpered when he changed the angle… and after just a moment's study met his onslaught and matched his rhythm. He pushed forward, pressing himself against her and reveling in the feeling of her hands moving over his uniform to clutch at his shoulders.
After a long minute he changed the kiss again, softening it and eventually drawing back just enough to speak to her. He studied her eyes. She could feel the breath of his words as it crossed her dampened lips.
"I like your hands in my hair," he told her. "I'm not wild about ear nibbling or licking or sucking or that kind of bullshit. Just doesn't turn me on. Kissing does. We'll figure out what works for you as we go. Where your sensitive places are. What you like."
Her heart was pounding in her chest. "You work for me," she told him with no guile. His eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head when her hand came up to cup his neck, those long, strong fingers stroking the back of his scalp. He let his head tip back into the pressure of her caress and she watched his expression flicker as he breathed deeply, drawing up his whole body, and then let loose a deep sigh.
"You do like that."
He nodded, bringing his gaze back down to meet hers. "It's where I carry my stress."
"I'll remember."
His response was another nod. His hands kneaded her hips, his own fingers thick and strong as they passed just under the edge of her camouflaged uniform tunic.
"Where's Mird?"
"Off hunting. I gave him leave. He can get in when he comes back."
She nodded, her expression unreadable. She watched his hands move to the button at the bottom of her blouse.
"If you want me to stop, you say so. If you want me to wait, if something doesn't work for you, you let me know. It's in your interest to tell me if it does work, too." His voice was quiet. Now it went soft. "You can tell me anything. Ask me anything."
She nodded her understanding.
"Some men like women to strip for them. I'm kind of hands-on, I guess. Don't see the fun in skin bars where women you can't touch dance with no clothes on. Don't really use flesh clubs, either. I guess I'm old fashioned."
He'd reached the button between her breasts, but simply flicked it open like he would if he were stripping a comrade or a child. Her chest heaved up and down as she tried to control her breathing. His hands sat on her shoulders for a fraction of a second before he slid the heavy fabric off her arms, reaching behind him to hang it on the corner of a chair.
"If we decide to meet here you can bring over a uniform or two, some underthings, washing up stuff. Whatever. So that you're fresh when you leave the next morning."
She smiled at him. He'd taken both her hands in his. "I appreciate it."
"I'm fastidiously neat. You're not. But you will be while you're here."
"Understood, Sarge," she laughed.
His hands ran back up her arms, circling her neck to feel the rings of braid she styled it into.
"Take your hair down for me?" he asked in a softer voice.
She nodded and reached up, guiding his hands to where the two braids met. "I don't use pins. They just slide into each other."
He watched the long, dark cords fall free. Ad'ra ducked her head to one side, working loose the four-plaited braid on that side. He reached for the other, finger combing it free inch-by-inch. When he reached the beginning point at her nape she tilted her head back, shaking the mass of it & then putting her hands up to loosen the coils even further. It did wonders for the view he had of her figure.
His quick intake of breath had her looking down at him quickly. Even in her innocence she scented his lust.
"Do we do yours now?" she asked him, swallowing hard when her voice wanted to break. She'd never been the object of such unchecked consideration before. Not when the criteria was simple sex. It would be a lot easier if he was judging her at a target contest or some feat of physical prowess.
"Mine?" he asked, distracted by the sight of her flipping all that hair over one shoulder.
She reached for his shirt, opting to start at the top seeing as his seated position had the last buttons pooled on his lap.
"I've never touched a man before," she warned him as her fingers made quick work of the fasteners.
"That's not true."
She bit her lips in concentration. He'd known that. Seen it many a time. It was a wonder she hadn't chewn them off yet. Still, the white teeth on the plump fruit of them captured his imagination in ways he'd never considered.
"If you're nervous you can kiss me. It's a nice bridge from one thing to another. Never inappropriate."
Her teeth flashed out between her lips. "Meaning you can tell I'm nervous."
"My hands are shaking and my palms are sweaty. And I know where this is leading. I've never been anyone's first before. Good bit of pressure there, what you've laid out here for me."
She smiled and tilted her face to his, pressing against him as he stood. He reached between them for the lower buttons, shrugging the garment off as he began to walk her backward. He felt her grin through the kiss.
"What?" he asked, stopping.
"Nothing." She arranged her features into innocence.
"I know you better than that."
She shook her head. Luckily she didn't have to explain that she found his cavalier attitude toward his own uniform in direct contrast to his demands she not leave her things lying around. The door behind them opened up. She didn't see anyone; he didn't even bother to turn around.
"G'night, Mird," he called, resuming his pressure at her waist.
The strill made a soft thrumming sound and she heard the patter of its feet crossing the floor before Vau took her hand and tugged her through a doorway.
Ad'ra glanced around his bedchamber as he walked in, then dropped her hand to turn and cross the room. He flipped a switch and returned to her.
"Fresher is through there if you need it."
She shook her head, then pressed both palms to her cheeks. "I'm okay," she promised. "I can do this."
He regarded her patiently. "It's okay if you just want to stop here and pick it up another day. Or even fool around some, then come back when you're ready. It doesn't have to be everything tonight."
"I want it to be," she told him.
"It's also okay to change your mind."
He pulled her wrists down, making her giggle as he trapped both arms behind her back before feasting on the long slim column of her neck.
"I can smell you even through your beskar," he whispered. It wasn't possible and she knew it. She didn't bother to correct him. While one hand held her wrists at the small of her back his other fisted under the weight of her hair.
"I thought you don't like ears," she managed to get out.
"Not mine," he corrected. "And I'm not aiming for your ears."
He could smell whatever soap or lotion perfumed her skin mixed with the good, honest scent of a day's labor. Her hair smelled hot where it brushed his face. The breath that came in pants held a lingering taste of the libations she'd poured while she waited for him.
"I never thought of you, not like this," he confessed. "Not as a woman I wanted to hold against me, under me. Then for days all I could think about was you. Your skin and the way you walk and your hands and those damnable eyes. You have fucking miles of hair. I had no idea. I want my hands on you. On all of you. I never thought to want you like this."
"I tried not to think of you like this," she replied. "I gave up. The timing seemed ideal with Jango publishing his updated schedule."
"Why didn't you choose him?" Vau asked. "Or Mij. Or-"
"I remember the first time you touched me," she told him. "Really touched me."
He paused, bringing her hands forward so that he could kiss her fingertips while she spoke.
"It was right after you arrived. You held a 'chute door for me, from the outside, then kind of took my elbow as I stepped down into it."
"Where I grew up that's considered being solicitous."
"You were the first to show me the obeisance when Jango announced me."
Vau let her hands drop and met her regarding stare.
"When I was fifteen I was sitting in the ready room and you walked past my chair and ran your hand down my whole ponytail without stopping to speak to me."
"I remember. You'd grieved that morning. But-"
"I had. And I needed the bolstering. Not the coddling I got from the others. I just wanted a comrade, a peer, to say 'That sucks, but it happens. Now move on to the next.'"
"I hate watching you all losing guys. I hate the way everybody stares at you. Judges, even though it's not new or novel now."
"You held me when I needed that, too. And you've told me before that I could always come to you. Always ask you anything. I was a child and I needed that approval so much. You have no idea."
He nodded. A horrifying thought struck him.
"How old are you now?"
"Nineteen." Well. Almost. "Nearly twenty."
Sounded so much better.
And eighteen was as close to twenty as anything else.
"Thank all the forgotten gods."
It brought out a laugh. "I've wanted you to touch me just for feelings' sake ever since."
He reached out, his face serious, and brushed her hair away from her brow, letting his fingers glide down the entire length of it. Once, twice. There was more of it now than there had been. And he thought it was a darker. A deeper color and redder. Less mahogany. More like wine. A rich, heady wine.
The heat churned low in his belly and his erection pressed uncomfortably against the restraint of his trousers.
"I'm after touching you now," he murmured.
She trembled when he reached for her again. Trembled against him when he pulled her in tight and kissed her desperately. His hands found their way down her back, then cupped her ass to drag her up against him. The sound she made when their cores made contact had him panting. Her hands couldn't decide where to light. She fisted one in the fabric of his undershirt near his shoulder, the other found the way beneath his sleeve, nails biting into his triceps.
He let go of her long enough to reach behind his head and drag his shirt free from his waistband. Her hands were there, pushing then tugging. When his chest was bared before her she let them cruise over the shape of him.
"I make you tremble, too," she crowed at the shiver that ran over him. Curious fingers shaped and molded his musculature, stopping at his taut nipples when the brush of her thumbs over them made his breath catch in his throat. She ran her palms over the sensitive nubs and then looked up at him with the question already forming on her face.
"Men get hard here, too? Not just their-"
"Men and women both," he assured her, bringing his own hands up as though weighing her breasts. Pads of his thumbs ran over the clearly visible peaks. Again. Then again until she sank her claws into the flesh at his collar bone.
"Stop, please," she gasped. "I can't think."
He slowed his caress, shifting his hands to the back of her waist and urging her closer against him.
"It's not about thinking. It's about feeling and responding."
She nodded. "I thought it would be quicker than this. The holovids—they're in bed faster than this. And I-"
"Holovids are fantasy. I don't know what kind you found. The ones for chicks are insipid and trashy. The ones for men are audience-specific. If there's respect there, there's more to going to bed with someone than just fucking. And it takes some time to really be ready. Every time."
"I'm ready," she told him.
"Give me a little bit longer and you'll know the difference," he promised.
She'd die, she thought. If she went much longer without feeling the more that the pit of her was begging for, she'd die of want.
"May I?" Vau asked her, his hands starting to tug the white undershirt free of her trousers.
"Yes," she hissed. Crossing her arms she brought it over her head. Just as suddenly as she revealed herself to him she became shy again. "Wait. Before you look at me-"
"Ad'ra, I'm looking," he told her with his jaw clenched.
She stood before him in just her camo pants, lingerie, with a white t-shirt clutched to her chest. All that beautifully smooth skin at her shoulders that had never seen sunshine, never been revealed at a beach or dance or any of the normal activities a girl her age partook. He took her elbows and reassuringly ran his thumbs over the tiny dimples and depressions they claimed while he dragged his bottom lip over the curve of skin. He used his teeth to nudge the strap out of his way and then kissed the small indention where it had left a mark.
Ad'ra's voice held an element of panic. "Vau, I have to tell you… I'm not built like the other women here. I'm not… um… as curvy as Rav or busty like Barrée -"
"Barrée's waist is bigger than Skip's. She's a hell of a lot of woman. Of course her breasts are heavier."
"But-"
"Baby," he murmured. "I've seen enough of your shape to know I'm not going to be disappointed."
She watched him as he raised his head so he could meet her eyes again. He reached for the shirt and began to tug, pulling it one handful at a time from her grip before she finally lowered it and stood there in the glow of the light from the refresher. Her skin was so much paler over her torso, her pretty breasts held in a plain, utilitarian undergarment. Perfect.
"Kiss me again," he ordered when her hand moved to correct the placement of the strap.
"Wha-"
"Kiss me again," he repeated. He still held her shirt when he bent to take her lips. Now, for the first time, her kiss was hesitant. He issued orders to himself as well; take it slow, slow it down, slow and steady. He wrapped his arms around her and just held her, indulging in the feel of her flesh against his.
The t-shirt was still wrapped around his left hand, his right splayed at the small of her back so that his fingers just dipped into the waistband of her utility pants.
"You are perfect," he murmured against her lips.
"That's not what you say at meetings."
He rolled his eyes. Her hands met at his back and her breasts thrust more fully against him as they moved in twin lines up to his shoulder blades.
"Your body is perfect."
"I think yours is, too," she told the taller man. She was used to perfect forms; she worked with the genetically enhanced every day. Vau's skin was paler and his build was different. She found no extra flesh or softness in her explorations, though. Light whorls of hair covered his forearms, ran down the middle of his torso. Smooth muscle seemed to cover every inch of him.
"In the movie he carries her to bed."
"Princess style?" When she looked confused he tried again. "Like a baby?"
She nodded.
"Girl holovid." He grinned down at her and it was predatory.
"How would he carry her if it was a guy movie?" she asked.
He ducked down, catching her up and lifting her so that her thighs spread to encompass his waist. "Like this," he growled when their crotches lined up. He couldn't help angling his hips to press into her.
"Oh god," she whimpered. "Better. This is better."
He hitched her up, his breath ragged at the desires flooding him.
From the new angle she was above him and bent her face to pull his lip between hers.
"I can reach all of you this way," she told him, hands busy in his hair, down his back, and over his arms where the muscles quivered.
"One of my favorites," he agreed, circling his hips into her again, his hands clenching her buttocks as her legs locked even tighter around him. "Not tonight, but I'll show you why it's prime."
"Show me now," she begged him. His mouth found her neck, then the ridge of her collarbone.
He shook his head.
"Please take me to bed now," she nearly cried.
Every muscle in his body was rigid. He didn't even bother pulling the bedclothes back; simply laid her down and followed her. With the mattress at her back she could arch up against him. He solved the problem of too many sensations by trapping her hands on the pillow with his left. His right cruised up from her waist to the side of her breast.
"Tell me when something pleases you," he reminded her before closing his mouth over her. He dragged her leg up, cradling himself more fully in her, and tugged at the laces of her boot with one hand. He could feel her writhing beneath him, heard the pants and soft sounds she made as he suckled first one, then the other breast. When the boot loosened he tossed it over his shoulder.
The thumping brought the skittering sound of the strill's feet on the other side of the wall.
Vau's mouth moved lower, laving a path down her rib cage as he released her hands to draw up the outside leg. Again untying her laces, he kissed hot, wet trails across her belly, lower to the beginnings of the hollows beside her hip. Her hands worked over him, now clutching at his shoulders or his free hand.
"I don't know what to do anymore," Ad'ra complained.
He reached for her belt, unsnapping it and then lowering the zipper to reveal more flesh.
"I do."
He kissed the space he uncovered, just above the waistband of her underthings. And began the slide that would reveal the rest of her to him.
"You should be naked, too," she told him.
"We're going to get there," he assured her. "Just another minute, okay?"
She kicked free of her pants, socks, and the scrap of lace as he came back up to her. His hand smoothed up the outside of her leg, the callus on the pad of his thumb rasping over her hipbone as he kissed her again.
"Now?" she asked him, desperation evident on her face.
"I want you to come at least once first," he told her quietly. "It'll be better that way."
"I don't know how," she complained, arching against his hand as it moved over to the trim nest of curls at the top of her thighs. Beautiful, shapely, pale thighs no man had ever seen before.
Vau had to grind his teeth and turn his face from her for a moment to collect himself.
"Oh!" The heel of his hand found the sensitive place she'd thought secret. His fingers slipped between the muscular thighs she'd clamped together when she arched off his bed.
Ad'ra Adenn was in his bed. Naked.
"Vau."
Calling his name.
"Walon!"
"I need to make sure you're wet enough, Ad'ra," he told her. His voice sounded calm to his ears. He'd probably never spoken so much during lovemaking if you added it all up.
"I'm trying," she told him.
It made him smile against her breast.
Her hands found his waist, then dug into his hips. Lower to tug at the ass of his uniform.
He shifted, bringing a leg between her knees to allow himself the access he was dying for, only to have her arch up and rub against his thigh.
The increased pressure it added to his hand made her cry out. His fingers slipped over her, separating and seeking before gliding in.
His thumb found her again and circled hard and she rewarded him by climaxing with a shout.
"You're tight, baby. You're wet enough now, but you're still too tight. Give it just a minute."
He slid another finger in, pressing and stretching. Long digits found the barrier he'd hoped to break in other ways, penetrated and plunged.
She bucked beneath him. "I didn't know… I didn't know…" she whimpered. Her vocalizations changed pitch as she crested again.
"Yes," he moaned. He let go of her long enough to divest himself of the rest of his clothing, his boots falling with loud bangs as he kissed her, his tongue making a mockery of the way his body wanted to use her. When he settled himself between her legs, spreading those long, pale thighs to accommodate his breadth, she opened her eyes and swallowed.
"Now?" she asked in a small voice.
He nodded. His own throat was too tight to trust in response. Instead he brought her hands up over her head again and draped them on the pillow. He palmed her cheek in one hand, brushing soft kisses over her face… cheek, brow, the corners of her eyes where tears leaked out. Shifting again, he brought himself into position and breached her slowly. As be began to fill her she arched under him, lip between her teeth & hands coming down to dig into his shoulders.
He sank in, buried his face beneath her ear, and prayed for patience and forbearance. Undulated gently against her until she was matching him again, until she was singing out his name and his endurance hit its limit and the need to answer that call drove him over the edge with her.
Then he held her, unable to loosen his grip on her, while she trembled and shook. Kissed her lips into soft bruises and whispered his pleasure in her, how soft she was and how perfect, until she settled and turned her face into his chest. She slept and it was the most satisfying feeling in the galaxy to be the one she burrowed against when her body went lax and her breaths went quiet.