Summary: A special ops clone trooper gets his name and a bit more – as referenced in vignette #3 of Jedi Don't Cuddle

Disclaimer: Star Wars is the property of George Lucas. This story is for entertainment purposes only. No infringement of rights is intended.


If you are ever in doubt as to whether to kiss a pretty girl, always give her the benefit of the doubt. ~Thomas Carlyle


The amber colored liquid was warm and rich. Raising the glass, he took a measured drink, swirling the alcohol over his tongue before he swallowed. The flavor was smooth, just a bit sweet and it felt like fire in his throat. He liked it.

The girl beside him looped her arms around his neck as she murmured the common, made-up name he'd given her for himself when they'd first started talking. The movement pressed her body against his chest and he had to grasp onto her waist to keep from losing his balance and slipping off the bar stool.

The room was crowded and dimly lit; music played from the corner behind the bar, and those who wished to converse had to raise their voices to be heard above the din.

Sitting in a corner all their own, conversation seemed to be the last thing on her mind at the moment.

Her lips pressed to his in a soft caress, and he mirrored the movement of her mouth as she deepened the kiss. He was nothing, if not a quick study.

She tilted her head to the side, and he did the same. The tip of her tongue darted out to slide across his upper lip and he repeated the gesture on her full lower lip, encouraged by the little sigh she gave. Her mouth opened just a little more, and his followed. She moved one hand to the back of his neck, and he slid his hand higher. The material of her shirt was soft, but her skin was softer. And her hair... he let the silky strands slip between his fingers and he cupped the back of her head, his hand buried in the mass of mahogany curls.

Then her tongue was in his mouth, tasting and teasing and...

….and he lost all sense of what he was doing. As first missions went, he was pretty sure this one took the uj cake.

She pulled back, her arms still tight around him, and ran her tongue over her own lips. Mesmerized by the sensual motion, he felt a fierce jolt of what he assumed was desire.

"Mmmmmm..." Her dark blue eyes sparkled as she smiled at him. "You taste like whisky."

He grinned, his hands dropping down to her hips. "Who's Whisky?"

She laughed and then leaned back in for another thorough taste.


AN: If you like Whisky, please check out chapter 3 of Jedi Don't Cuddle, which can be found on my profile page. As always, thanks for reading and feedback is always welcomed.