The concept of being enough was a difficult pill to swallow. The slender woman had spent the past few months hearing that she was anything but. Her family, her mother, her sister—All seemed to have an ax to grind because she wasn’t exactly as they wished her to be. Her position as an Exarch had been questioned. Some didn’t feel that her tenure had been as profitable as others. Srina could only maintain that she hadn’t sought the duty in the first place. It had been thrust upon her. Rather than crumble, she stood tall and learned.
“I—”, she breathed softly, voice breaking, when burnished golden eyes clashed against clear silver.
There was nothing she could say.
Not when a subtle dip of her head led her to warm lips that accepted all she was. More importantly—Maliphant seemed to accept all she wasn’t. Without question. The emotion that passed between them was so tender that the pale creature had no name for it. She spoke through a kiss while warmth began to blossom in a way she had forgotten. She whispered silent secrets throughout every second she breathed his air, through each, and every touch.
If the Sith beneath her listened with more than just his ears—
He would
know. Maliphant would know what she needed to express before it even came to mind.
When her admission finally came free her shoulders tightened. Prepared, if necessary, to shut down. To close the line of pure honestly that had bubbled up between them. Srina wanted to believe him. She was cold, by nature, but there was something missing. Her abilities grew in tandem with other things that she kept deeply hidden. She told herself that she could shoulder the pain of being cut off from Eshan. Of losing what she which wanted, more than anything, and had never questioned it.
For the Confederacy she, could, would lose everything.
Anything. Letting someone inside was against her every instinct. She expected disdain. Scorn, at admitting her want. Her weakness. Only—What she gleaned through the ether from Maliphant was the opposite.
Joy. A happiness that ran, swiftly, a mile long.
It surprised her. Stunned her.
“…You know how I hate being wasteful.”, Srina responded slowly, on auto-pilot, while her chest started to constrict with potentially misplaced hope. She raised her head to take in the whole of his face, the near-perfect curve of his cheek, soft, waiting lips, and finally the coup de grace of his eyes. They were warm liquid pools that made her feel like she could sink endlessly into them. Even injured, he looked like a work of art. Doubt crept inside…How could he want her?
Her?
She wasn’t a prize. A curse, likely.
Still. The soft, teasing smile, the light in his eyes, said plainly that Maliphant saw something wonderful when he looked at her. It made her cheeks feel hot and that same rouge spread unbidden down her neck.
In that moment of airy discomfiture, he caught her by surprise. His hand rest to her throat while softer sentiments became buried, hidden, by a new ardor. He wasn’t quite as gentle now. The soft kisses that she had pressed to him were swept dizzyingly away with something far stronger. Insistent. New. This was different—Flame-filled. Passion lingered just on the edges of her peripherals, enough, that she didn’t even
think stop him when he moved her atop his body.
Only the hiss of pain caused her to freeze.
Her eyes were mottled and oddly fierce.
Shifting. Silver and gold bled together for a moment, swirling, before she closed them so she could breathe. Even the coy whimper was getting under her skin.
“…As much as you want…”
“You can’t.”
The slender woman exhaled slowly and shifted back a little so she wouldn’t brush up against his wound again. Foolish man. He really was going to reopen his stitches if he kept pushing it. She sat up, balanced among the silken skirts that separated them, and brought a hand to her hair. The ties that kept it bound and braided came free and she tossed them on the table.
“Let me help you.”, she breathed, lightly, though a thread of something innocently wicked would be visible.
Her hand fell to his chest. A brief pulse—And he would find that he couldn’t sit up.
Srina leaned down carefully, hyper-aware of his injury, and kissed him firmly. There wasn’t a lot of lip movement because he would find himself deliberately immobile. Her mouth stayed secure, almost chaste against his, but something dark, and intense lingered behind it. She pulled back slowly. The unspoken promise caused her pulse to move while her breath caught in her throat.
He had already gotten carried away. She couldn’t too.
Instead—She trailed soft fingers down the side of his face. Comforting.
“No more pain.”
“Not for me. I don’t want that for you.”
A tender application of the Force brought gentle heat to her fingertips. Enough, that when they moved down his neck, shoulder, and eventually toward any muscles in his torso that had grown weary from being infirmed it became a deliberate massage. Echani knew the body more than most and she intended to rid him of any discomfort in a fashion that didn’t involve either of them losing their heads. This was a hospital. He—Was a patient.
“Close your eyes.”
Trust me—Was what she really said. She wasn’t running. She wouldn’t hurt him. She would keep him safe, even, from himself.