Chapter E: End
Chapter Summary: They're trying to end this... whatever it is. They should just give up.
Warning: Blanket rating has been changed to M for language and mature content.
A Jedi should not become attached to physical comforts, but it was hard to maintain this mindset when he was so warm and comfortable. He felt strangely tired, but in a pleasurable way that made him feel oddly fulfilled. He let out a small hum of satisfaction, to which his pillow murmured wordlessly and curled around him tighter –
Groggily, Kit propped his head up. When the sleep-induced fogginess cleared from his vision – and to a lesser extent, his mind – his eyes immediately alighted upon the warm, smooth, live pillow he'd been cuddling.
His cognitive functions crashed entirely.
He lay there, in the rumpled sheets and with his arms locked around his pillow – no, not his pillow, the pillow, he objected to himself – in what he now recognised as not being his room. It wasn't even a fellow Jedi's room. He – they – weren't even in the Temple. By the Force, were they even on Coruscant at all?
Kit made a sudden jerk as if to rush out of the bed that was decidedly not his, but stopped so as not to disturb his pillow – oh Sithspit, he might as well admit it: his... err, bedfellow.
Who had just snuggled deeper into his bare front.
A sound escaped his mouth, sounding suspiciously like a squeak, and the single train of thought – irrelevantly, it consisted of his musings on the unblemished, smooth skin of his bedfellow – that he'd just managed to get going derailed spectacularly.
"Mmm... stop moving," his bedfellow murmured sleepily. Her husky, slightly hoarse voice sent a shiver rippling down his spine.
Oh, Sithspawn, I'm in for it deep. He whimpered as images of death, doom and destruction – AKA Mace Windu – thundered through his mind.
Long, toned legs shifted under the covers, sliding up and down his legs and sent a shudder through his body. He bit his lip, not trusting himself to not make a noise that wouldn't further incriminate him.
I am so fucked.
That unintentional double entendre triggered a sudden flood of memories from last night. In more ways than one, he thought as a strangled noise escaped his lips.
"Kit? What's wrong?" The woman in his stiff arms reached up to rub at her eyes.
"Uh... well..." he cleared his throat, trying to compose himself with mental images of the Council and Yoda and Mace and dear Force, were those her breasts brushing across his chest?
He froze, and so did his bedfellow.
In the next minute, he and his companion engaged in the most awkward and tension-wrought bout of silence that he'd ever encountered. By the cute little wrinkle between his bedfellow's furrowed brows, she was struggling to bring her mind up to speed. He busied himself with tentatively extricating himself from their embrace, doing his very best to avoid physical contact as much as possible. It didn't help at all that a part of him wanted the very opposite.
He swallowed. "Yes Aayla?"
"I say we blame this on the alcohol."
A week passed without them ever bringing the issue up for discussion, or even speaking to each other beyond awkward greetings, pathetic attempts at casual conversation, and hasty good-byes. Whenever they did find themselves face to face, they both made a conscious effort to maintain a distance of no less than one metre away from each other. Physical contact was absolutely taboo, which Kit privately lamented one day, allowing his mind to drift away from his duties. His lack of attention could hardly be faulted, though; lately, he had been sleeping restlessly, plagued by vivid dreams of warm, velvety soft blue skin, brushing against his in heated passion and excitement…
He snapped out of his daydream with a jolt, keeping the embarrassed flush from rising to his face through sheer force of will. He looked around to find every member of the Council turned his way, inquiring and concerned looks on their faces. Windu was just frowning disapprovingly at him. The uptight Korun really needed to get laid, Kit found himself thinking absently. A second later, he clamped down on that thought, absolutely mortified and disgusted with himself.
Outwardly, he cleared his suddenly dry throat and schooled his face into an appropriately contrite expression. "I apologise, Master Windu. I…" he faltered briefly, coming up blank on a plausible excuse. "It will not happen again," he finally said.
"You have been a bit distracted lately," Ki-Adi-Mundi said. Windu was still frowning at him, and Yoda was just staring at him in that quietly intense manner of his.
Kit felt sweat build up on his back in response to that keenly discerning stare. He almost felt as if he should throw himself to the ground and prostrate himself before the Master Jedi, confess his grievous transgression and beg for forgiveness. Almost. Luckily, he wasn't so tired as to have lost all sense of self-preservation.
"You do look a little unwell, Master Fisto," Shaak Ti said softly. "Is something troubling you?"
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "No, I am merely tired. I… have unwisely been overtaxing myself." Well, that was mostly true. Ever since That Night, he had been spending every spare moment in the training rooms, pushing himself to his physical limits and beyond in an attempt to tire himself into dreamless slumber. Meditations were always derailed by his wandering thoughts and hence rendered completely ineffective (ironically, by the very thing that evoked such a need for meditation in the first place), and his traitorous mind never failed to distract him from studying battle plans and tactics.
Oh blast, Windu was speaking to him again. He turned his attention back to the Korun Jedi Master in time to catch the tail-end of his reprimand, and bowed his head both in acknowledgment and apology, even though he had no idea what had just passed through the swarthy Jedi's lips. Something about following his example of being a stick-in-the-bog and other such blah-blah-blah no doubt. Thinking about smooth blue skin and warm, hazel eyes was much more interesting… which led to completely inappropriate thoughts about That Night, and Force, he really needed to crawl into a hole and die. Preferably quietly, so no-one would find out about his… indiscretion.
A memory rose, unbidden, to the forefront of his mind: heated, sweat-slicked bodies sliding over each other; long, deft fingers threading through his hyper-sensitised head-tresses…
Kill me. Kill me now.
"It won't happen again," Kit repeated.
The next morning dawned bright and early. Kit Fisto stretched languidly, feeling well-rested for the first time in days. He sighed contentedly and rolled over – only to smack right into something warm, supple and decidedly not the wall of his chambers.
With stiff, jerky movements, he craned his head around to identify the foreign object and when he saw the sea of sensual, bare blue skin next to him in his bed, his eyes damn near bugged out of their sockets.
How the bloody hell did he end up in this situation… again? He remembered bumping into Aayla around the corner from his quarters after the Council meeting had adjourned. He remembered their fumbled, extremely awkward greetings, and the even more awkward silence after that. Then they'd decided they needed to stop avoiding the issue of That Night and discuss it (and why it should never, ever happen again – ever) and the next thing he knew they were kissing and caressing and undressing and oh Force…
He buried his face into the pillow. It didn't help matters that Aayla's unique scent clung to it. Beside him, there was a rustle of the sheets as his bedfellow stirred. The movements soon stopped, and a tense silence descended upon them.
"Shit." Aayla croaked, her voice hoarse and absolute sex to his ears.
He withheld a whimper. "Indeed."
Another week passed.
Kit holed up in the smallest, darkest, dustiest alcove of the Archives he could find. He busied himself with studying the driest and most obscure topics Madam Nu could dig up, all the while trying to ignore the burn of shame and – as the hours turned into days – desire. Which was completely inappropriate. And frustrating. And forbidden. And distracting.
With a long and miserable groan, he dropped his datapad and buried his face in his arms.
"Wow, that sounded like it came from the Outer Rim."
"Aayla!" With a startled cry, he leapt up from his seat, knocking over a stack of holos with a clatter. "What are… how did you… umm, hi."
He gave a little wave, and immediately felt foolish afterwards. He cleared his throat, doing his best - and failing - to meet her eyes evenly. It seemed the twi'lek was also doing her best to avert her gaze though.
Yet another awkward and tense silence settled around them, the only sounds coming from the uncomfortable shuffling of their feet.
"So, uh… how've – how've you been?"
With almost tangible desperation, Kit clung to that conversational lifeline. "Good! Good, I mean, not too bad, you know. Can't complain really, it's been… good." He finished lamely, feeling an urge to find the nearest window and toss himself out from it.
"Well, that's… good." Her lekku twitched, betraying her agitation further. "Uh, well… I, um… wanted to talk to you."
"Talk? About what? Th-there's really nothing to talk about, is there?" He laughed nervously.
The nautolan clearly recalled how their last attempt at 'talking' went. That Night Number One and That Night Number Two both popped into his mind. He simultaneously wanted to 'talk' and find that blasted window.
"Yes, I think there is." She crossed her arms loosely over her abdomen… her exposed, well-toned abdomen… He shook himself out of his daze before he started drooling when Aayla continued. "Kit, it's about… um, you know. And, err… Don't get me wrong, it was goo- I mean, you were g-oh Force, let me start over." She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders.
"It's like a battle. You fight it out until you're a boneless heap, and then in the afterglo- AFTERMATH, in the aftermath!" She flushed darkly, drawing Kit's gaze to her heated skin. "Y-you have to be… debriefed, you know? Like… like discussing the results and possible repercussions with the Council, o-only it would just be between us because it's an insanely private matter and… and…"
As Aayla floundered with her words, Kit found himself admiring her slender figure, the grace of her movements even as she tugged nervously on her lekku. His eyes slid over her lithe arms, lingering over the subtle play of muscle under the smooth, unblemished deep blue skin. The nervous fluttering of her stomach muscles again drew his attention, and the small jewel in her naval glimmered faintly in the light.
She's… she's glowing. Kit marvelled in awe. She's beautiful… hang on, repercussions? Aftermath? Private? Oh Force, s-she's –!
"You're not…" He paused at the last second, remembering where they were. With a cautious glance around, he pantomimed a distended belly with his hands, making vague, panicked motions with his fingers as he did so.
Judging by the look on Aayla's face, she didn't understand his gestures and quite possibly thought him weird. With a helpless look around for aid, Kit rubbed a hand over his head tentacles and, after making sure no-one was around, mouthed 'baby' and made a rocking motion with his cradled arms. The bemusement on Aayla's face rapidly shifted into horror, and she shook her head frantically at him.
"No! By the Force, no! Just… no! Are you insane?" She hissed at him, her eyes darting around nervously. "I mean… Force, this is not the place for us to be having this discussion."
"You're right. We need to find someplace more… private."
"Okay. Alright then." Aayla exhaled softly and smoothed her hands over her lekku. "So… your place or mine?"
"Yours." He kept thinking about That Night Number Two whenever he so much as looked at his bed. Which would not be beneficial to talking.
The next day, Kit woke up and immediately his eyes went to the blue twi'lek in his arms. And as he'd come to expect, they were completely naked and entwined around each other. He let his head drop back onto the pillow.
His exasperated utterance caused the woman in his arms to shift a little, and his eyes glazed over and a shudder rippled through his body as her skin moved against his.
Shit, shit, shit… oh Force, I am dead. Kit, your Code, your bloody Jedi Code! He inhaled shakily as he tried desperately to centre himself. There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity.
"Mmm… Kit?" He made the mistake of looking down, and swallowed when he took in the sight of a sleepy Aayla Secura, blinking and rubbing her eyes in an endearing manner and with a sleep line creasing her right cheek.
There is no… there is no… emotion…
Gradually, the sleep cleared from her eyes as she glanced down at their… intimate embrace with a bland, inscrutable expression. When she looked back up into his eyes, her hazel eyes sparkled with that deviously familiar look of mischief.
"You know, with the way we always end up like this, I think someone's trying to tell us something."
Oh, sod it.
With his trademark charming grin, Kit reached up and pulled Aayla flush against him, kissing her soundly.
A/N: Happy Valentine's/Single's Awareness Day! It's been a while, hasn't it? Unfortunately, I had little time whilst in China to work on writing, but when I got back (oh, about a month ago) I bought Dragon Age 2 and got suckered into 70+ hours of awesomeness.
Oh, and updates are likely to be even more infrequent from now on. I'm so sorry. I never intended to do this to you. You, my dear readers with your endless support and reviews and kind words.
It's not you, it's ME3.
Sorry. I could not resist. But hey, you do know the Mass Effect 3 demo is being released today? (Well, technically tomorrow for people in Australia and other such similar areas. Damn you timezones!) So to all you singles out there, get your PS3/X-Box360 controllers/keyboard and mouse out, and start saving the galaxy! And even if you're not single, go suit up anyway!
Special thanks to my dear friend, Minion of Sekhmet. Both for beta-ing this and also introducing me to the awesome world of Mass Effect. This chapter is dedicated to you. :)