His body stares at the empty table in front of him, but his soul treads long familiar paths of memory.


A single finger twitch and he dies. Movement, something between him and his target. Sunset eyes defiant in the scope. Her mouth moves. "How dare you?" The sound carries to him on the scented wind.

He can still take the shot. His bullet would pass through her flesh and hit his target. A body would not be a barrier at this range. She would be injured, not killed. A minor casualty.

Her eyes stare him down. His finger trembles but does not move. His body's reflexes try to take over, but his soul rises up in protest. His hands shake as he lowers his rifle. Only his years of training keep him from dropping his rifle. Her eyes search for him, miss him in the shadows. Out of scope, she is smaller but no less defiant.

She moves off, takes the hand of the target, leads him to safety. He watches her leave. Follows.


His hand drifts lower, relieving tightness. Hard length gripped tightly.

It is night. He stands outside her home. He appraises automatically. Low windows. Open balcony. Easy entry on multiple levels. She is reading. A single light illuminates her. He watches. His soul's desire fights with his body's instincts.

She moves. Types something on her datapad. Head rests against a fist. Full lips shape a soundless word. He decides. Moves forward. Knocks on the door.

She lifts her head, walks to the door. It opens. Light wraps around her face. There is no recognition. She had not seen him. He tells her, "I must speak to you. Please, may I come in?"

She is cautious, but Kahje is a safe world. She steps back, lets him enter. He shuts the door behind her. Turns, pulls the rifle out from his jacket.

She steps back. Her eyes widen. Not fear, indignation. Anger. "What is this?" she asks.


He steps forward, bends to one knee, rifle held before him like an offering. She stares, not speaking.

He speaks his confession. She listens, shakes her head. "You have no right!" He tries to explain. His body is trained to kill but she disarms him with a look. He tries again, his soul pouring the words into hers.

She is drell. She understands his body's training. She places a hand on his rifle, does not take it from him. "There is more then death in this galaxy. Where is your soul?" she asks. He does not answer. Cinnamon eyes pierce him. "I will show it to you."


His fingers move, his body remembers her. He touches himself as she touched him. The memories flash again.

"Come," she says, laughing. Bare feet dance on the sand. He moves to her music, living through her love. Death forgotten. Hands explore his face. Fiery taste on his lips. Mouths and bodies meet, twine on the sand. Soft flesh surrounds him. He is lost in her. Music and laughter interrupt them. She hesitates, stands, takes his hand. "Come."


Scales under his hands. Eyes closed. "Thane!" Voice that captivates him cries his name. Nails scrape against his back. He is within her, body and soul exult as one.

Strokes come faster as he remembers those nights. Desperately his body hungers. Tongue in his mouth. Strong hips against his. Bodies twist. Slender form relaxes in his grip. Sweet sensation pours through his body.

His skin tightens, remembering her face. Her scent amidst warm sheets. He gasps, both in body and in memory.


It's been so long. His soul closes as his eyes open. He is alone. Walls of metal and plastic.

A/N: Originally written for a masskink prompt, reposted by request. Please R&R, all characters property of BioWare.