Vau was already moving when the hiss of the hatch opening came across the room. Caught himself before he cringed at the sound of the young voice moving closer. Boba had run tame in this wing long before he'd found welcome as more than just card partner.

Unfortunately, the open layout of the floor plan here afforded little privacy when that door opened.

"Ad'ra! Are you dressed!?"

"I am!" she called, stepping out of the closet space.

Barely. She was barely dressed.

And him!?

He gestured down at his unclothed body, jerking the dry cloth back around his hips.

"You don't have anything he hasn't seen before," she told him blandly as she moved to hug Boba hard. Cupped his face. "Did you have a good time? I swear you grew eight and a half inches!"

"I was only gone two days."

She cocked her head. "I think it was longer than that. It felt like a lot longer than that. And I think the changes in gravity stretched you out."

He laughed. "Da said we could bring you your present before-"

"Son of a bitch," Walon complained when Fett just waved himself into the room behind his son.

"Don't you have anywhere else to be?" Jango asked with a growl, dipping his head to accept Ad'ra's affection.

Coming in to find both of them with wet hair—her in just a sports top and the leggings to her kute and shabla Walon kriffing Vau in a fekking towel—not his ideal way to start a day.

"As a matter of fact…" the other man snarled.

Ad'ra spun, tapped the lip he'd curled.

"Hush." She turned. "What did you bring me?"

"You are spoiled," Fett complained.

"You know what Da said."

"I do."

"That's what we decided!" Boba explained. His eyes were shining. "Da said I could ask you if I could have your old armor."

"Boba."

"I want it to be like your buir bought it for me, too. Remember what he taught you?"

Ad'ra's face crumpled. "He'd love that, vod'ika," she told him through her tears.

"Not yet, Ad'ra," Fett told her. "We're not going to go back and forth, shortening it and then yanking it back out."

"He's taller and broader than I was at his age," she told their boss, stroking the boy she'd pulled to her side.

"He is. We'll see."

He closed his hand over her wrist. Squeezed her.

Walon had reached out to her when the tears started.

He could live without this osik.

Ad'ra sniffled. Looked around. "Is it in your room? I don't remember where it is-"

Fett nodded. "I have it in storage. I can get it out. I don't want him-"

"I love the idea of him using it while he can."

The other man nodded again. "I think it's going to be just a while longer before we're there, but we'll look next time we go out."

"Kandosii!"

"Scrubby brats who want expensive beskar'gam should bring a trade to the table when they beg," Ad'ra prompted him.

Boba's eyes lit up. He reached for the pouch in Jango's hand.

"You're going to like these. The colors all taste different."

He spilled a few of the sugar-crusted seeds onto the table. The crystalline coating shone like jewels.

Walon couldn't help but smile as the youth reached for one, too, even as Ad'ra did.

He tugged on her damp hair and murmured a retreat. Went to the 'fresher to pull on the flight suit that was the base of his pitch-colored armor.

Snagged a few of the confection when he rejoined them. Fett was gone but it seemed Boba was staying. He ran his hand over the kid's head when he bent to kiss Ad'ra goodbye.

"I'll see you later?"

"I imagine so," he agreed blandly.

"Because you like sweets, too?"

The wink he shot her made her belly quiver.

"I like it sweet," he agreed.

Swept out, his helmet tucked under his arm and his strides long and commanding.

Jesu. She'd always thought him incredibly handsome. Always had a little bit of a thing for him.

Now that she knew, though?

When she saw him so tall and handsome and strong and knew that it was she who could make him tremble, now she knew what his mouth tasted like when he called out his satisfaction? Put a whole other spin on seeing him dressed to wreak havoc. Knowing how he was in her bed made her wonder how she'd ever thought him cool or distant.
Made her want to see if she could pull him to the side and make him go desperate.

.

.o0o.

.

"Why in all of haran was Walon Vau still in your room this morning?" Fett asked her a little later.

"Because, sometimes, when men and women get to a certain age they have urges that need to be met. And-"

He smacked her on the back of the head.

"I thought this was a casual thing."

"It is. No pledge, no major upheaval when one or the other decides we're done, no commitment. Don't fret, Papa Bear," she told him.

"When a man spends the night he's made a commitment. You don't sleep over with a casual lay. You scratch the itch, say thanks, and go back to your own rack."

"I imagine, in a normal world, it's not so close to the next morning when a man joins a woman in that bed. We're making it work, fitting this in around where else we need to be."

She considered his words, though.

From the beginning Walon had insisted that this be strictly off-hours and strictly platonic. Just good, healthy sex. But from that first night he'd spoken like it was expected that when she went to him—or he went to her—they'd be staying to sleep. Had told her to bring things to his room, had almost immediately made space in hers for his toiletries and a few other things.

He'd upgraded the offerings in her conservator and bought a duplicate set of pans for her apartment.

She pivoted her POV to glance over at Fett, wondering what he'd make of that.

"I can hear your thinking face. Keep this simple, Ad'ra. There's a whole world of possibilities out there. I don't want you latching onto Walon fekking Vau just because you never outgrew a childhood crush."

She sucked in a horrified breath.

He laughed. "I knew it. Fek."

"I couldn't help it. He came in with that coal black armor and the only non-military or non-educational books I had were Rav's romances."

"I don't read fiction," he defended himself. "That's not on me."

She shrugged.

"At least it wasn't fekking Lollo."

She made a face. Shuddered.

Fett laughed. "Trying to figure out how that works in bed?"

He watched her turn away, pretend to gag.

Laughed long and hard.

"Stop. You'll put me off sex."

"I can only hope…"

"I thought you liked Walon."

"Like him?" His hand came up and tipped side to side. "Respect him and the job he does, absolutely. Trust him with my life and all that rot? Sure. Want him involved with you? No. Definitely not."

"Why?"

"For one thing he's more than twice your age."

"So are you."

"And I'm not knocking on your door in the middle of the night to slip into your bed. I'd rather not see you setting your heart on somebody so cold."

"He's not cold. Jango. He's not cold."

"He's damn near a droid as a human can get. I keep waiting for Gil to report that he doesn't have a heart."

"He's sweet."

"He is not."

"He is. He's respectful to me, defers to both of our positions, and he's precious."

She heard the disbelieving huff.

"I know you have to play a role in getting some of the things he's bought me here."

"I was unaware whose charms he was buying his way into when I agreed to play postmaster."

"But you continue…"

He ran his hand over the back of her helmet. Patted lightly when he reached her neck.

"You deserve every single good thing out there. I don't mind it if he wants you to have the best."

"It's the mushy stuff that gets you?" she asked.

"What mushy stuff?" He sounded offended.

"The paper roses and-"

"What!?"

"The roses he makes me out of flimsi. And-"

He jerked his helmet off. Reached for the seal of hers. Just glared at her.

"What?" he demanded.

She smiled as she blinked up at him.

"He makes me roses. He said when you're courting a girl on most human-inhabited worlds you bring her flowers. So he makes me-"

"I'm going to kill him. Do not fall in love with him."

"I won't," she promised.

He let out a breath. Shook his head and looked back over the training ground.

"I'm going to kill him…" Jango Fett decided, repeating his earlier invective. "I forgot that he likes to pretend he's civilized when he makes these liaisons. Ad'ra… it won't mean anything to him. It's not real. It's like a façade he creates…"

He saw her wince.

"I know the difference between real and pretend."

He grimaced and tugged his helmet back into place, securing it.

"I fekking hope he does."

.

.o0o.

.

"Who did you sleep with before?"

"Before? Before I came here?"

"Before me."

He tilted his head, met her eyes.

Let out a deep breath and rested back against the pillow.
Looked for help in the ceiling tiles.

"You want me to list all the other women I've slept with? Ad'ra… I was twenty once, too."

She laughed. "Just… the last one. Who did you sleep with right before me? Just the ones I know."

He looked quizzically at her.
Let out a half-laugh. "Cyar'ika, you're not going to know any of the other women I slept with. For one thing, most of them are going to be about two decades older than you."

She just looked at him.

He dropped his head again. Hummed thoughtfully.

He'd had a fairly long-term liaison with another Mando merc who'd been contracted to train a private militia. Had never ended up moving in with her, but they'd had a fairly regular schedule. First day of the week, your place. First day of liberty, mine. A shared meal, perhaps. A game or deck of cards. A few drinks. A tumble and usually a companionable breakfast before either heading into the base camp or out of it. Then going their separate ways.

He hadn't thought about her since he'd been here.

Wondered if her husband had ever made it 'home'.

"I guess Sharia Yone would have been the woman before you. Well. No, take that back. She's the last one I could put a name to. There was a night out-"

Her jaw dropped. "You had a one night stand?"

"I've had more than a few," he admitted. "I was single a long time. Guys go into town, blow off steam, cut loose after a mission or when you're part of a task force or what have you."

"Like to a brothel?" she asked. Far from offended, she sounded stoked. He watched her pull the blanket around her as she sat up, prepared to grill him for all the details.

"I have been to brothels. It's not my preferred way to find company."

"So you, what? Pick up bar flies? Is there some kind of mercenary/Mandalorian inter-galactic dating league? You ping your location… single human male seeking willing bed partner in quadrant-"

She shrieked when he tossed her to the side.

"That might be how your generation does it. Mine's more gentlemanly about things. At least where I come from."

Her eyes were shining. "Do you miss her?"

"The whore?" he asked.

"The girl. From before. From home. Your real home. The one you loved."

His face straightened.

He thought of Isla. Thought of his homeworld and the person he'd been when he was there. The man he'd tried to be because his father demanded it of him. The refuge she offered, sweet and young and beautiful.

He shook his head.

"I was so young, Ad'ra. I was younger than you are now. Did you know what you really wanted—who you wanted to spend the rest of your life with—when you were fifteen?"

"Yes."

It made him wince.
Made something crawl into his throat and stick there.

He didn't want her wishing for someone. Didn't want to be a place-holder for some faceless man she'd run across on a mission. Or, worse, a warm-up act for some guy here.
He consoled himself that if it was someone here she'd have had no reason to seek him out.
So, you know, small comfort… he probably hadn't ever shaken the man's hand. Which made him wonder if it was the damned clone she'd lost. The one she claimed had broken her heart. Olan. He had a name. And millions of identical faces.

"If she was important, why don't you miss her?"

"We wouldn't have done well together," he admitted. "I know that now. We were just two lonely people, the same age, in the same environments. It seemed so overwhelming at the time. But I'd have been too much for her. She didn't have your spine. Your spunk. She was all delicate and all sweetness and I'd have stomped on her. Crushed her. Overwhelmed her. And I believe that would have broken me, breaking her into pieces."

"Did she marry someone else?"

He shook his head. "She took holy orders."

"Like… she's a nun?"

"A priestess, but yes."

"Why would she do that?"

"The priesthood condemned her to the convent when I was exiled. She apparently found her niche there. In honesty, she'd have made a better priestess than princess. She liked religion."

"I like religion," she told him.

He snorted.

"I do. I mean, mine, anyway."

"Fair enough."

"Weren't you her first, though? If she was only fifteen when you were together, why hadn't you-"

He was quick to interrupt. "I didn't sleep with her, Ad'ra."

She started to ask why. Stopped herself. He saw it like a book's title page with chapters denoting how the plot would play out.
Something about it upset her, though.
He caught her hand in his as she moved away, arranging pillows and straightening out the rumpled sheets and blankets.

"It's okay. I understand," she told him.

"Then tell me so I do."

It looked like she'd open her throat and explain it. Instead her lips stayed clamped shut and she swallowed.

It felt like something was stabbing into her chest, through her ribcage. Crawling up her throat.

"No," she whispered. Bent to kiss his brow.

Rose and closed the door to the refresher.

He was left lying, wondering what he'd said.
What she'd inferred.

Hauled himself up to follow her.
Pulled her to him when he found her splashing cold water on her face.

Ad'ra buried her face in his chest and sobbed.
It made his gut knot up.

"I'm okay. I'm okay," she promised. Held him so tight.

"You're killing me, darling girl. Tell me what I said. Explain to me what Isla has to do with-"

"She doesn't. She doesn't. I know that. I know I'm different. That things are different here. I don't know why it hit me so hard."

He rocked her, his cheek turned so he could rest it on her temple.

"I loved her like a boy does, Ad'ra. I don't mean to undermine what we had. It cost me—everything, it cost me. But I know this, too: If I hadn't left? If I'd been allowed to marry her and live out my life and follow in the footsteps of the Count of Irmenui? I wouldn't have liked myself very much."

"Do you like yourself now? Is this enough? Being part of this world? Being Mandalorian? You're content to be one of us now? Forever?"

"Yes. This crazy, messed up, opposite-ends-of-the-spectrum life? I can look myself in the mirror, meet the eyes of the man looking back, and approve of him. I feel better. That boy? I hated being him."

"But if she was so sweet… why wouldn't you want to be sweet for her?"

"I'm not a real sweet person."

"That's not true."

She had a bower full of paper roses. A drawer tucked full of sweet or uplifting quotes he wrote out to leave her when they'd been apart for days. A cache of saved comm messages that made her smile—things he tapped out and sent her during meetings or standing formations or just because he thought of her in passing.

"It's true enough."

"She'd have never gone to a man and suggested they go to bed, would she? She'd have waited until her husband took her virginity, been pure for him. Right?"

He nodded in short motions. Regarded her carefully.

"I know it's a different world." But those words seemed to pain her, seemed a death-knell.

"Honestly, our society was so rigid about sex that I don't imagine many married couples enjoyed each other very much. I can't imagine two virgins who grew up in a world where you wore gloves and a mantle at mealtime would have been able to find much rhythm. If neither of you know anything, and there's no outside sources of information, it can't be very enjoyable."

She wrinkled her nose. "You'd have probably figured it out."

"I daresay I would have. For men it's just friction and finding the right hole."

That made her laugh.

He reached over, turned off the sink. Turned on the shower.

"What upset you?" he asked again, pushing her hair away from her face.

"I just realized that no one would ever think that it would be inappropriate to hit on me because I was too meek, too pure, for baser uses."

"Ad'ra…"

She shook her head, tucked her lips back in.

"I understand. Mandalorians are looser about sex, about fidelity and all."

"Be that as it may… the reason that you came to me was because no man here had made a move on you—or not one that you recognized—so you might think on that."

"I took your advice too well."

"What was that?"

"To be so tough nobody thought about me being girl."

"I assure you, no one can miss the fact that you're a girl. You don't think that it might be the men here regard you as something of a warrior-princess. Thought you out of their league?"

She made a kind of pfft-sound. Turned from him to retrieve a couple of towels.

"It's hard to think of you as a virgin."

"Everybody is their first time."

"Were you good at it? The first time?"

"Probably not."

"When did you know you were good at it?"

"You make me feel like… I don't have the words for it…"

He showed her instead, reaching for her. His hand came up under her hair to cradle the back of her head as his mouth lowered slowly over hers. Parted gently and delved so tenderly that she nearly lost her balance.

"Ad'ra… this is what you make me feel…"

She rose to her toes, meeting him.

She loved the way it felt when they were together, bare to each other, lined up so everything in her fitted against him.

I love you.

It was right there.

Aching to break free.

She wondered if the dream-girl of his past had whispered those words to him. If he'd been the one to utter them first.

Kissed him harder.

"Ad'ra…" he moaned.

Walked her backward into the shower, under the steaming water.

Didn't stop until she was pressed against the slick wall, his body trapping hers and heating it.

I love you, he wanted to tell her. Wanted to fill her and shout it out in his throes. Wanted to toss it out casually when he left for the day. Wanted to comm her with it when he knew she was tired and would be in bed before he got in. Wanted to hear her say it back to him.

"Ad'ra. Ad'ika." He claimed her instead. Tasted her as he called her name.

Closed his eyes when she called to him in turn.

"There's no one like you," he whispered. "No one. None, anywhere, who is like this when I touch her. None who makes me feel this way—like there's never enough time for our loving. Like I'm being robbed when our alarms go off and I have to leave again."

"Walon…"

"Yes!" he groaned. Felt her clench around him.

Tried to stave it off, tried to bring it back under control.

Lost the fight and grunted through his own capitulation, the spasmic jerks of his dick inside her like a taunting punishment when he'd wanted it to last forever. When he could stay inside her forever.

It was the only place she truly belonged to him, the words still unspoken.

Just these hours, these moments, when he had her caught up against him and she was singing his name for him.

I love you.

He lowered his lips to her brow.

Prayed for her to love him back.

.
x
.

"You know you don't have to buy me things, don't you?" Ad'ra asked when she came in and saw the silver beskad-alloy box on the table.

He'd tied it with red ribbon as wide as three of her fingers and like to satin on one side, a rich velum feeling on the reverse.

She had a drawer of such ridiculous indulgences now.
It wasn't enough for him to make a gift, he wanted the pomp and circumstance to surround it.
Conversely, half the besbe he'd presented her with was just handed off as though it was nothing, as though what he gifted her wasn't a small fortune in outlay and then demanded a coordinated effort of sourcing and specifications, then drops and deliverance.

"I know. I like to buy kit. You need kit. It's a good match, all-in-all. Plus I can pretend to be altruistic and justify spending an inordinate amount of money on upgrades as they come out under the guise of keeping up appearances. Can't have anyone suspecting that I spend all my salary on you."

He watched her tug the bow, then slide the thin fabric free of the handle. Wind it round and round her fingertips before tucking it into the clip of her belt to gleam against the more subdued color. His mouth was practically watering when she reached to flip the latches. Open the lid slowly.

She slammed it back shut and stood ramrod straight as though she'd been called to attention. Didn't so much as glance his way as she schooled her features.

The pair of pistols in the case were worth more than most of the ships that landed and took off in the spaceports on his homeworld. They paled in comparison to the bud he'd laid atop them.

"Is this real?" she asked him, finally whipping around to stare at him. Tears were in her eyes. "Is this the real thing?"

He nodded. Smiled at her.

"It's very, very fragile. It's been preserved, so it feels the same as when it was fresh. It's okay to touch it. Just bear in mind that it will-"

She clenched her hands. Looked like she would reach into the case once more. Changed her mind and put her fists to her lips. Fought tears.

"Here," he murmured. Parted the lid and reached in to retrieve the rose he'd commissioned. She watched him with those big, round eyes as he drew it out and gently let the lid fall closed.

Vau's face was calm as he laid the pink rose next to her pretty skin. She was pale. He wondered if she tanned in the sun or if she burned. He'd never wondered that about the other faces he saw here. The faces of men and women he'd fought with in Mandalorian armor.

Only her.
And her skin was softer than any bud or bloom he'd ever encountered.

Ad'ra shivered then schooled herself when he touched her temple with the flower.

It felt like a velvet whisper as he drew it down the side of her face. Around her cheek, down, slid along her jawbone. She closed her eyes and swallowed. He lifted it, stroking down her other temple, around her ear, down the side of her neck. Down the front of the plates of armor she wore. Stopped between her breasts and started anew.

Traced the profile of her nose, took his time outlining her lips.

His voice was husky when he broke the silence.

"What's the proper response when a suitor brings a lover a token of affection?" he whispered.

She stammered. "You said we aren't courting… that we aren't to become emotional. This is physical, just chemistry and convenience…"

"Then don't thank me like you're seeking approval," he told her.

She shook her head.

He set the rose aside, already reaching for her hips.

"Kiss me, damn it!"

He closed the space between them himself, his tongue doing the carnal things she'd come to know would lead to him being extremely tenuous in bed—almost insatiable in his need to draw from her as many climaxes as he could before he gave in and joined with her.

.

.

"And which exotic and generous lover is this from?" Rav Braylor asked sardonically at the morning meal.

She reached out to finger the web-belt Ad'ra wore. It was loosely woven, like chain mail but less fixed, more a necklace of ore hooked around her hips to hold destruction as though it were a thing of beauty. It wouldn't easily catch things the way each link was turned and sealed. The mail-like mesh was made up of strands of silver, pewter, rose, and bronze flickered like a million stars against the dark swirls of color on the girl's cuisse plates. The gleaming guns nestled in holsters that fastened around her thighs with buckled silver straps. Like garters, he'd whispered when he demanded she try them on.

She'd been wearing next to nothing at the time. That was a picture no man could resist taking.

"Same one," Ad'ra said carelessly as she filled her plate and tucked in.

"He has good taste."

"I agree. I'm spectacular," she grinned.

Vau smacked the back of her head as he took the seat beside her.

Braylor knew about their relationship. One of the few. Gave no doubt that she didn't quite approve of him buying access to Ad'ra's bedsport.

"Better make it worth every penny," he muttered.

Skip Smar K'cen's eyes narrowed and he watched them during the meal. Stepped in front of the other man before he could exit.

"Tell me you're not sleeping with that girl," the older Mando demanded.

Vau reached out his hand to clap him on the shoulder. "Trust me, Skip. When a twenty-year-old girl bargains and begs her way into your bed, you don't waste that time sleeping."

It was uncouth of him, but he enjoyed the other man's momentary surprise and speechlessness at his crudity. Behind him Rav Braylor was shaking her head, too.

"Leave it," he warned, attempting to move past Skip.

"The hell I will. She's no father, no brother-"

"She's three thousand brothers if you ask her, and one hundred watching her back. She's covered."

"They know? You're letting them know?"

"There have been one or two moments of indiscretion," Walon admitted. Shrugged. "Please don't make me remind you that there's a marked lack of diversity in the cadre here. With the current ratio women are a valuable commodity. And they know it."

He winked over his shoulder at Rav. Turned in time to take the other man's punch.

"Chakuur. Honorless hut'uun."

"Get out of my way, Skip. I'm in too good a mood for this. And I like you, I really do, I just-"

He took the next punch, too. Right into his face.

Brought his hand up, then reached for a napkin.

"Look. I appreciate you defending her. But-"

He dodged the next one. Came up and landed his fist in the solar plexus, then the man's kidneys.

Rav saved her cup of shiig when their shoving contest turned into all-out brawl.

"I'm warning you," Walon told Skip. "Not a word. I won't have her-"

"Oh, you'll listen to plenty," the other man told him.

Fett's voice broke through.

"Both of you have better things to be doing."

Vau's dark chuckle nearly got him killed. Fett had to haul Skip off of him.

"What the fek is this?"

The taller of the two dabbed at the side of his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Skip felt it necessary to defend Ad'ra's honor."

"That ship's sailed," Fett noted. Reached for Skip's hand. "I appreciate it. We've all been teenaged dikuuts. Sometimes you have to let kids make their mistakes…"

Vau's eyes flashed up to their commander. "Why is it that no one ever thinks to defend me—older gentleman being extorted, all that rot…"

He slipped around them and messaged her.

'You cannot possibly be worth the hassle.'

'I didn't do it. It was probably Theta.'

That wasn't the response he'd expected in the least. Now he was going to have to figure out what she'd gotten her company into that she wanted to blame on poor Jaig's.

'Untenable.'

'You say that now…'

He laughed.

.

When he got to her rooms—closer to the next day rather than that night—he didn't bother to wake her. Stripped off and slid into the rack beside her with a sigh.

She was awake when he got up the next morning. Curled on the couch, reading something. Her quarters were one open room, divided into separate sleep, eat, and ease areas only by the arrangement of furniture. He liked it in that he could watch her without getting up.

When she heard him shift she untangled those long legs of hers and came to him.

"You know," he said, reaching out to tug at the hem of the black undershirt she wore with just her lingerie. "The whole point in leaving my things here is so I have something to wear the next day."

"You can have it back," she told him, reaching for the soft cotton and crossing her arms to bring it over her head even as she knelt up to swing her leg over him.

His hands were reaching for her. Dragged her down to him so he could feast on that mouth of hers. Slid over the daintiness that did no more than decorate the curves of her ass. He'd have to thank whatever influence had always had her preferring a little lace, a little satin under her utilitarian uniforms.

Worth every penny.