Private One More Mile

[Rin Taal]

His explanation of the dragons began well enough. Rin truly intended to follow every word, listening with the same curiosity she always had whenever he spoke about the creatures he loved. Unfortunately for both of them, the lesson unraveled somewhere between his hands beneath her thighs and the increasingly frequent moments where he completely forgot what he had been saying. The corners of her mouth curled upward as his thoughts wandered for the second time, leaving her with the distinct impression that she was no longer the only one struggling to concentrate.

"You were explaining dragons," she reminded him softly, the laughter lingering plainly beneath her words. "Though I have to admit..." Her smile broadened another fraction. "...I'm rather enjoying being the reason you keep forgetting."

His answer about her room only deepened the warmth already lingering in her cheeks. She remembered that morning every bit as clearly as he did. The embarrassment. Mara's horror. Muad's spectacular inability to explain himself without making everything sound worse. Looking back now, she found herself cherishing the memory more than cringing at it.

"I imagine my mother would be terribly disappointed if we denied her another story to tell." A quiet laugh escaped her.

Whatever playful thought might have followed vanished the instant his cheek brushed against hers. Her breath caught.

His lips had barely touched her skin, little more than the softest whisper beneath her jaw, but the effect was immediate. Every tiny nerve ending along her neck seemed to awaken at once, sending warmth cascading downward through her shoulders and into the pit of her stomach. Her pulse betrayed her completely, quickening beneath the feather-light caress until she wondered if he could actually feel it against his lips. The slow breath she finally managed to draw into her lungs emerged far less steady than the one before it.

Her fingers tightened instinctively around the fabric at his shoulders. She wanted to turn toward him.

Not enough to steal the kiss he had promised to wait for, but enough that every instinct urged her to close the impossibly small distance between them. Respecting his promise somehow made resisting that temptation even more difficult.

"That..." she whispered after a long moment, her voice noticeably softer than before, "...wasn't fair." There was no accusation behind the words. Only a smile that he could no doubt hear. "You discovered exactly where all the dangerous places are."

His promise settled into the quiet that followed. Until you get tired of me, I'm yours.

The words wrapped themselves gently around her heart. She searched his face after he drew back, finding nothing there except complete sincerity, and before she could stop herself, a single thought surfaced with such effortless honesty that it scarcely felt like thinking at all.

*As long as you'll have me. *She never intended to speak it.

Whether it crossed the intimate connection they had formed on Batuu or remained safely within her own thoughts, she couldn't have said. She only felt that familiar thread stir gently between them, warm and reassuring, as though acknowledging something neither of them needed to put into words.

His confession that he no longer wanted her merely in his life but as part of it left her quiet for several heartbeats. The words deserved that silence. They deserved to settle.

"I think..." she began softly, her thumbs unconsciously brushing small circles against his shoulders, "...that's why I stopped being afraid."

Her smile returned, smaller now, but somehow more genuine.

"Not because I stopped wanting you beside me." She shook her head almost imperceptibly. "Quite the opposite. Every conversation, every meal, every mile we've walked together has only made me want more of them."

Her golden eyes never left his.

"I realized somewhere between Batuu and here that I wasn't imagining the next place I might visit anymore." She laughed quietly at herself. "I was wondering if you'd like it too."

When his hands finally slipped from beneath her thighs, she found herself unexpectedly missing their warmth. His request for another sheet coaxed the brighter smile back onto her face, and she leaned away just enough to study him with exaggerated consideration.

"You know..." she mused thoughtfully, "...for someone I've only met twice, I've somehow become responsible for making sure you're properly dressed."

She laughed softly.

"To be fair, the first set had to be cut off you, and the second drowned in a storm, so I'll try not to hold either against you."

The mischief dancing in her eyes became impossible to hide.

"Come on." She slipped from her chair and offered him her hand. "Let's see if we can prevent your remarkable streak of bad luck with clothing from reaching three."

Muad Dib

 

[Muad Dib]

"That wasn't fair. You discovered exactly where all the dangerous places are." He grinned at her whispered words and softness. The torture was not solely hers. As his eyes glanced down, they glowed a bit brighter. Oh, I very much doubt I've discovered all the dangerous places you have. But I look forward to finding them all. Lips twisted up in a smirk as he arched a brow. However, he had discovered enough to torture and tease. For now.

Silence stretched while she peered into his face, searching for something unseen. He waited, wondering what precipitated the look. Briefly, he considered what words were spoken, or thoughts that had her golden eyes on his face in that peculiar way. Then he felt the thought she had sent unintentionally. As long as you'll have me. That was it. He knew the reason for the pause. He had offered himself to Rin. And then her response echoed inside him again.

As long as you'll have me.

A shiver went down his spine. Muad would have her now, and for a long, long time. They were dancing very near words unspoken. Sentiments shared strongly by them both. And yet, each waited for the other to acclimate before advancing. His opinion on patience, at this moment, was that it was overrated. But he found he would wait forever for the next look that caused tingles, a smile and his own response instantly until he grinned like an idiot, the lightest touch which drew him closer, or their conversations about the past and potential future that had him envisioning a time when being together wasn't a dream, but a reality.

Now that he could wait for.

As she spoke, he shook his head slightly. It was a figure of speech, but Muad did not think he could imagine Rin afraid. They had been through so much in the small amount of time they shared. Battle, death, sickness, threat, the unknown. And through it all, he had never seen the flicker of fear or the scent of terror. Fear was not a word he could picture inflecting the woman before him. At the most, apprehension. Though his head moved slowly in disagreement, he agreed with her following statements. The state of the future was changed now. All because of a chance encounter upon Batuu.

When she leaned back in the chair, her face playfully construed with exaggeration, he couldn't keep a chuckle from escaping. She appeared absurd and intoxicating in the same breath. Their playful banter continued even when she stood to offer her hand. "You know", he said as his fingers closed around hers, "it might not be the circumstances as to why my clothes keep coming off." He rose from his chair and stepped into her space. She was a head shorter than he, but he found he didn't mind it one bit. "I think it's the company." He smirked again as heat flooded his face and chest until he arched a brow.

"Weren't you leading me somewhere?" As they began to walk, his mind flicked back to what she had just said. "For someone I've only met twice." It did give him pause. For two people with a considerably long lifespan, two meetings barely qualified them to be mild acquaintances. They weren't even blinks when compared to the time spent alive. No sane person would give their blessings to them after only two meetings. Not even the insane would agree with the two.

The reality was clear. They were from two different worlds, even different species. Different backgrounds with completely different family statuses. One was calm and collected. The other was rash and followed instinct. One was likely to feed, clothe, and give a ride to someone who was a potential enemy. The other would probably just drive over them. Rin was one and a half centuries old. Muad, well, you could add another zero. It would never work.

But the truth of reality was perspective. The great Kenobi once said, "It's true. From a certain point of view." And though common sense said no, they both said yes. While the commotion in his head may have drifted through their bond, his final opinion most assuredly did make it to Rin. As for the sparse amount of time they shared, his intent coalesced into unbidden thought

In the few days we've had together, we've lived a lifetime's worth.

His fingers tightened their grip on her hand and, in that moment, he knew he would never let go.

Rin Taal

 

[Rin Taal]

His comment about the company responsible for his missing clothes accomplished exactly what the brush of his lips against her neck had begun. Heat rushed back into her cheeks so quickly that there was little point pretending otherwise. She lowered her eyes for a moment, an embarrassed smile escaping before she could stop it, and gave a small shake of her head that did absolutely nothing to restore the composure he seemed intent on dismantling piece by piece.

"You're impossible." The words carried no complaint whatsoever.

Instead, their fingers slipped comfortably together once more as she guided him from the sitting room. The warmth of the fire slowly surrendered to quieter portions of the house where conversation naturally seemed to soften. Amber lights, tucked neatly into recessed panels along the walls, spilled across pale stone and polished timber with a gentle glow that felt more like evening sunlight than artificial illumination. They weren't bright enough to chase away every shadow, nor dim enough to leave the corridors gloomy. Instead, the light settled into the home with quiet confidence, allowing every familiar corner to exist exactly as it was meant to.

The first hallway clearly belonged to guests. One open doorway revealed a neatly prepared bedroom where fresh linens waited upon an untouched bed, while another across the corridor mirrored it with only subtle differences in furniture. A refresher sat conveniently between them, its door standing partly open beneath the same warm lighting. Everything felt orderly, welcoming and comfortably impersonal, prepared for visitors who might stay a night or a week without ever quite becoming part of the house itself. Rin merely smiled to herself and continued onward, leading him past those rooms until the corridor curved gently around a corner.

The change was subtle enough that most visitors would probably never notice it, but to her it was immediate. The furniture no longer looked carefully arranged for appearances, but comfortably lived in. A jacket rested across the back of a chair instead of hanging where it belonged, while several well-read books lay stacked upon a narrow table with a ribbon still marking someone's place between the pages. Her boots waited neatly beside the wall where she had slipped them off earlier that afternoon without feeling any urgency to move them, and a collection of polished stones occupied one shelf beside an old brass compass whose practical purpose had long since given way to sentimentality. Nothing here had been staged or positioned with company in mind. Every object simply occupied the place where she had last needed it, quietly reflecting the rhythms of a life lived without performance. Only then did it occur to her that this was the first time she had ever brought someone she cared about into this part of the house, and the realization carried a quiet significance she hadn't anticipated.

That thought lingered as they continued down the corridor, her fingers resting comfortably around his while her mind wandered somewhere altogether different. She had spent well over a century convincing herself that love was, by its very nature, an exercise in compromise. Every relationship she had known had seemed to require the same gradual process of sanding away rough edges. Opinions became quieter because disagreement wasn't worth the effort. Certain thoughts remained unspoken because harmony seemed kinder than honesty. She had never resented it. In truth, she had assumed everyone did it. Loving someone, she had believed, meant slowly becoming a version of yourself that fit more comfortably beside them. Somewhere between Batuu and Veradune, Muad had quietly dismantled that belief without either of them ever speaking of it.

Somehow he had managed to know the most stubborn, opinionated, and occasionally infuriating parts of her without trying to smooth them away. If anything, he seemed amused by them. He challenged her often enough to keep her thinking, welcomed her questions instead of dismissing them, and met her convictions with his own without ever making either of them feel diminished for disagreeing. More than once she had caught herself speaking thoughts aloud that she might once have softened or kept to herself, only to discover that he listened with the same quiet attention regardless of whether he agreed. It was such an ordinary thing, and yet it felt extraordinary. For the first time she wasn't wondering whether someone would still love her after seeing all the inconvenient pieces. She was beginning to suspect those were the very pieces he had come to admire.

The realization left an unexpected warmth in her chest. Perhaps that was why everything between them felt so effortless. It wasn't because they never challenged one another, nor because they were somehow perfectly suited from the moment they met. It was because, somewhere along the road between Batuu and home, she had stopped feeling as though she needed to become anyone else. After a lifetime of quietly negotiating with herself, she had met one man who somehow made simply being Rin feel like enough.

She slowed as they reached another door tucked beyond the bend in the corridor, her room resting quietly at the very end of the hall as though even the house understood that some spaces belonged only to the people who called them home. She stopped before it and turned to face him without letting go of his hand. The silence that settled between them no longer carried the uncertainty it once might have. It had become another language they seemed to understand together, one that required no translation.

Her free hand rose almost absentmindedly to his shoulder before her fingertips followed the familiar line of his neck, disappearing into the hair at the back of his head. They lingered there, gently combing through it with slow, thoughtful strokes as her eyes searched his face. She had caught him doing this more than once now, pausing just long enough to breathe her in before either of them moved again. At first she had thought it merely another of Muad's peculiar little habits. Now, standing this close, curiosity quietly won over restraint. Her hand remained where it was as she drifted just a little nearer, scarcely noticing the distance she had crossed until barely a breath separated them. Almost without thinking, she drew in a slow, quiet breath.

Warmth reached her first, followed by the lingering traces of the day itself. There was honest sweat earned through travel rather than labor avoided, the faint dust that seemed destined to accompany anyone who spent enough time outdoors on Veradune, and the quiet trace of smoke that clung stubbornly to him despite every opportunity to wash it away. Beneath all of those things rested something she couldn't separate into words. It wasn't a fragrance she could name or compare to anything else. It was simply... Muad. The sort of familiarity that belonged less to the senses than to memory, as though her mind had already begun gathering countless little details into something uniquely his. Before she realized it, a small smile had found her lips.

Perhaps that had always been the point. It had never been about perfume or soap or the road clinging to someone's clothes, but about committing an impossible moment to memory with every sense available, quietly acknowledging that one day this instant would belong to the past and hoping that some small piece of it might remain. She understood now why he did it, and the realization carried a tenderness she hadn't expected. Somehow the simple act of breathing him in felt every bit as intimate as the brush of his lips beneath her jaw had moments earlier.

Her thumb drifted lightly beneath his ear before she finally allowed herself to speak.

"The guest rooms are back that way," she said softly, tilting her head toward the corridor they had just walked. "They're comfortable, they're close to the refresher, and they'll give you all the privacy you could ask for."

Only then did she glance toward the door behind her, her gaze lingering there for a quiet moment before returning to him. It was such an ordinary thing, little more than another door at the end of another hallway, yet it suddenly felt as though it marked a threshold far more significant than the wood and stone from which it had been built. Home had always been a place she retreated to alone. Tonight she found herself wanting to invite someone into it.

"My room is here." Her golden eyes settled on his once more, steady and unguarded. "And I know where I'd like you to sleep."

There was no hesitation in admitting it, nor any embarrassment. They had spent the evening choosing honesty over comfort often enough that pretending otherwise now would have diminished everything they had shared. Her fingers remained lightly threaded through his hair as a gentle smile found its way back to her lips.

"But wanting something and choosing it aren't always the same thing." Her thumb traced a slow, absent circle beneath his ear. "You promised you wouldn't take that choice away from me, no matter how much you wanted to. I don't think it's fair if I take this one away from you."

She watched him for another long moment, quietly content simply to stand there with him before continuing. "If you'd sleep better in one of the guest rooms, then that's where I want you to be. If you'd rather wake beside me tomorrow morning..." A soft laugh escaped her, warm with equal parts affection and amusement. "...I can't pretend that thought doesn't make me smile."

Her hand slipped slowly from his hair to rest against the side of his neck, the touch no less affectionate for the shorter distance it traveled. "Whatever you choose, it won't change what tomorrow looks like." The smile she offered him softened still further, carrying none of the uncertainty that might once have accompanied those words. "It will only tell me what feels right to you tonight, and after everything we've shared, I think you've earned the right to make that choice for yourself."

Muad Dib

 

[Muad Dib]

"You're impossible." He smiled at the quiet admonition that held no reproach within it. I thought I was a stubborn warrior. The warm feeling of his words was a gentle reminder of the night they lay next to each other in various stages of undress. She had chosen to cast off the vestige of decency to warm his body. But she had actually warmed his heart. Without thought to how it may have looked, she stripped down and lay with him for his own benefit, and none for herself. Even the healing of his shoulder was credited to her closeness.

It was one of the moments that started his fall for the zorren woman, even though he wasn't aware at the time.

As she led him down the hall, he glanced to the sides, noticing open doors leading into guest rooms. They were not unlike guest quarters he had slept in during trips, except for one thing. Instead of high-gloss furniture for long-term use by a myriad of individuals, these were unique and comfortable. Tokens of home and individuality made each room homey and lived in—a taste of domestic bliss. From hand-woven throws lying across the back of chairs to the hand-carved bed frames with ornate headboards. The wood shone with use and careful upkeep.

The corridor slowly changed. The lighting dimmed without turning dark. An ambiance enhanced by personal touches and items. A pair of boots. A weathered rocking chair with cushions for comfort. An old mandolin without dust on a piece of furniture that matched nothing else. And in its distinct, out-of-place personality, it conformed to the ambiance of being chosen for sentimental value as much as its functionality.

A long rug guided their steps, sound cushioned in the thick weave. Old frames holding yellowed pictures. One caught his eye, and he slowed his step, his hand not leaving Rin's. In it was a young girl, still in her teens. She sat on the railing of the porch they had walked through to enter the house. The sun was setting in the trees, the greens of the tall grass in the front yard bathed in orange rust color. You couldn't see the girl's face, but the familiar shape of one ear held back her hair as a tail swished, frozen in time. They passed the picture as he continued following the same person in the picture—just an adult version.

Across their bond, he felt her thoughts. He was the first person she brought back here to visit, other than friends and family. Knowledge that he was the first, an explorer in the uncharted land that was Rin's, affected him more than he could explain. It would seem he would always be afflicted with this new heat because of the soft acceptance she offered him. Not the heat from a sun that blistered the body and drained the spirit. She gave him the warmth of a hearth against the cold night. The dancing flames of beauty that never repeated, the comfort of a familiar blanket, and the sense of belonging. That was what she was to him. And so much more.

It was the unfiltered look beyond the composed presence he had first met under the trees as he lay bloodied and broken. Revelation of who she truly was. A woman he had much affection for. The word affection felt right and wrong at the same time. It was correct, but paled in its description. The word like swam to mind but he banished it as unworthy of how he felt. He knew the word he searched for, and yet, he didn't think it. Not because he felt it untrue but because he didn't want Rin to grow wary at the way it would reverberate through their bond. It contained the power to change everything. Was he ready for that? Was she?

Her hand rose to his shoulder before tracing the muscle to his neck, and then his hair. Unbidden, he leaned into her touch. Her gaze searched his as she stepped close. It wasn't sexual, though with her so close, there were elements of it there. It was a choice of an intimate nature. He watched the cute nostrils flare ever so slightly as she inhaled. He smiled and emulated. Her scent was burned into his olfactory sense. The soft hint of sandalwood and vanilla. Her unique feminine musk. Even the dander of her tail offered a uniquely wild smell that complimented the others. The taste of her skin reminded him of the wheat berries of Adumar. Honey sweet with the tartness of cherry. I wonder what treasure her lips taste like.

She was a bouquet that tantalized the senses. Her thumb lightly traced the edge of his jaw beneath his ear and he surrendered to the sensation to lean into her touch. His body hungered for her soft caress. Not to press her against himself in desire and need and want. But because her touch was as familiar as the kal that sat at the small of his back. She wasn't a new piece of inventory that he added to his daily attire. She was a piece he didn't know he was missing.

"My room is here and I know where I'd like you to sleep." Muad understood the weight of the moment. The choice Rin laid before him. It wasn't about the need that pounded with every beat of his heart. Or the want, that clearly marked their physical forms. It was a choice. Much like the one he gave her as she stood on the stoop before the porch. She wanted him to make up his own mind. To choose. And he loved her even more for it.

There it was. The word he worked hard not to think. As he chewed on the word he felt the fireflies from the night buzzing in his chest. Like the first pull from an especially good whiskey. Warmth started from inside his chest and reached to his extremities. It felt right. And like the moment after the first taste, he wanted the next. And the one after that. Exactly like how they had placed themselves on the road beside each other. For a mile. And then the next.

The silence that stretched when she finished speaking didn't feel heavy. It was nearly the frozen moment at the end of an exhale and before the next inhale. A moment frozen in time to decide if you will bring the next lungful of air in and continue to live. He raised his hand and lightly ran his knuckles from the tip of her maddeningly cute ear, down across her jaw before cupping her chin lightly. His thumb brushed along her bottom lip, savoring the softness against the pad of his callused thumb. His smile was filled with a wistfulness as the blue of his eyes glowed softly.

"Thank you." The two simple words carried the weight of what she offered him. Privacy. Time. The chance to opt out of a moment grown warm with its intimate nature. The room down the hall held no appeal for him. Because she wouldn't be with him. "I choose you. Because being without you doesn't feel right. Waking up with you on Batuu was a memory that haunted all other nights since." His thumb caressed her cheek even as he felt her thumb beneath his ear, sending shockwaves along his nerves.

"I would wake up and look beside me and find the dream of you so close to me was exactly that. Only a dream. Being with you, here, is a dream I don't want to wake from." Their other hands were still clasped together, fingers interlocked. He raised them and placed them above his heart, the strong steady beat beneath didn't run wild with the passion of desire. Just the steady beat that filled the moment. An apologetic smile flickered across his face, because he chose to share what he felt, knowing there was a chance it could change everything. For the better or for the worse. But he was done pretending otherwise.

"You wove a spell on me back on Batuu, my little witch. I didn't see it then. But everyday since, it has grown. Tonight it finally revealed itself to me. And I won't deny it. I'm falling in love with you, Rin Taal. And I want to keep falling."

Rin Taal

 

[Rin Taal]

For several long heartbeats, Rin simply looked at him.

She heard every word he spoke, but it was not the sound of his voice that held her still. It was the quiet certainty behind it. Muad was not a man to scatter grand declarations carelessly. Everything he had shared with her since Batuu, whether painful or joyful, had been offered with deliberate honesty. This confession was no different. He had not spoken because he expected anything from her. He had spoken because he could no longer leave the truth unsaid.

Almost without thinking, she reached through the quiet bond that had linked them since that first impossible meeting beneath the trees.

It was not to question him or search for some hidden flaw within his words. She simply wanted to understand them completely.

The Force answered with the same quiet warmth she had come to recognize as uniquely his. There was no hesitation buried beneath his confession, no hopeful fantasy masquerading as certainty. What she found was exactly what he had spoken aloud. From where Muad stood, every word was true.

A slow breath escaped her as she realized that, in reaching toward his heart, she had brushed against her own.

The realization did not arrive with dramatic revelation. Instead it settled over her with an almost startling sense of peace. She had spent the journey believing herself sensible enough to keep her emotions carefully organized until there had been enough time, enough certainty, enough ordinary days together to justify what she was beginning to feel. Instead she found herself standing in the middle of something that had never been ordinary from the beginning.

This was only the second time their paths had crossed. By any reasonable measure, it was far too soon.

Yet those two meetings had carried more honesty, vulnerability, trust, and quiet companionship than relationships that sometimes took years to reach the same place. She had found him wounded beneath Batuu's trees, shared a storm with him, held him through a freezing night simply to keep him alive, laughed with him, argued with him, and now stood inside her childhood home with his hand wrapped around hers while he entrusted her with the most vulnerable truth he possessed.

Perhaps anyone standing outside this moment would have called it reckless, and on some distant, rational level Rin could not entirely disagree with that judgment, yet even so she could not bring herself to dismiss what her own heart had already, quietly and without permission, decided.

Warmth flooded into her cheeks until she was certain they had become brilliantly red. It felt wonderfully unfair that she should discover the truth of her own heart at precisely the same moment Muad placed his in her keeping. Her golden eyes never left his as her thumb slowly traced across the back of his hand, the familiar contact somehow making it easier to say the words that had been waiting just beyond her courage.

"I believe you," she said softly. A faint smile touched her lips before she continued. "Not simply because I can feel the truth of your heart through the bond. I believe you because everything you've shown me since Batuu has been honest."

She studied him for another quiet moment, her smile growing warmer.

"I haven't known you long enough to pretend I understand every chapter of your life. There are years that belonged to you before we met, and I know there are memories you'll only share when you're ready."

Her fingers tightened gently around his. "But I know enough." Her voice remained calm, carrying neither hesitation nor pity.

"I know you were Sith. I know there are things in your past you wish had never happened. I know there are wounds that reach much deeper than the scar on your shoulder."

A small smile returned.

"I also know the man who crossed a camp after a storm looking for people who needed help before he thought about himself. I know the man who still found reasons to smile while bleeding beneath a tree. I know the man who trusted a complete stranger enough to place his life in her hands."

She stepped closer until scarcely any distance remained between them, her presence steady and unflinching as she met his gaze without hesitation. "I don't love some imaginary version of you without a past, Muad." The words came easily now because they were simply true, spoken with a quiet certainty that left no room for doubt or retreat. "I love the man standing in front of me."

The words settled gently between them, and for the first time since he had spoken them aloud, Rin allowed herself to simply stand there and exist inside the quiet they had created together. There was no uncertainty left to fill, no fear demanding reassurance. There was only the warmth of his hand around hers and the impossible realization that, despite every sensible thought she had entertained over the past days, neither of them had managed to keep their hearts from quietly arriving at exactly the same destination.

Only then did she become acutely aware that she was still holding his hand. She didn't want to let go.

The realization should not have surprised her, yet somehow it did. Her fingers remained comfortably laced with his while one heartbeat slipped into another, each one presenting the perfect opportunity to release him and each one quietly ignored. Somewhere between the second and third heartbeat, she realized she was no longer hesitating because she was nervous. She simply liked the feeling of his hand in hers far too much.

A blush immediately deepened across her cheeks and into the ears he found so tempting. "I..." She laughed softly at herself, her ears lowering just a fraction in embarrassed surrender. "I don't actually want to let go."

The admission earned another quiet laugh before she lifted their joined hands slightly between them, smiling at the sight as though amused by her own inability to behave sensibly.

"That seems rather unfair after everything we just admitted to one another."

Eventually, and with obvious reluctance, her fingers loosened. They lingered across his palm until there was no excuse left to delay, brushing gently over his skin before finally slipping free. The moment the contact disappeared, she caught herself instinctively wanting to reach back for him again. She smiled, cheeks still brilliantly pink. "You're becoming a very dangerous habit."

Still smiling to herself, Rin turned toward the door behind her and rested one hand against the familiar latch. It clicked softly beneath her fingers before she pushed it open and stepped aside, looking back toward him with the quiet mixture of pride and vulnerability reserved for showing someone a piece of yourself that could never truly be hidden again.

"Come in."

The room beyond welcomed him with the same quiet warmth that seemed to follow Rin wherever she went.

Soft earthen-colored walls reflected the gentle glow of the bedside lamps, filling the room with warm shades of sandstone and clay, while touches of forest green, deep crimson, and muted gold appeared throughout in woven blankets, embroidered cushions, and hand-stitched fabrics gathered from journeys across the galaxy. Nothing looked expensive. Nothing had been arranged to impress. Every color seemed chosen simply because it reminded Rin of a place she had loved or a season she wished to remember.

The broad wooden bed stood beneath a hand-carved headboard whose flowing patterns resembled climbing branches winding around one another. Spread neatly across it rested a thick comforter woven in bold geometric designs of rust, cream, charcoal, and deep green. Its tribal patterns spoke of another culture entirely, softened by years of careful use without ever losing the richness of their colors. She had found it during one of her earliest journeys away from home and, despite every practical argument against carrying something so bulky across the stars, had stubbornly brought it back with her because sleeping beneath it always reminded her that every world had something beautiful worth bringing home.

Books occupied one shelf, though there was no attempt to organize them by subject or size. Field guides leaned against collections of poetry, journals sat beside histories of distant cultures, and several well-thumbed volumes had scraps of ribbon marking favorite passages rather than proper bookmarks. Between them sat the little things that truly transformed the room into Rin's.

A smooth river stone, polished by years beneath running water, sat beside a brilliantly colored feather preserved beneath glass, pressed flowers gathered from worlds whose names she could only half-remember, and a tiny ceramic mug with a chipped handle that someone had once insisted was too cheerful to throw away, while near the center of the shelf rested a small wooden fox.

Time had rounded every edge the carving once possessed. One ear bore the careful repair of an old break, almost invisible unless someone knew where to look. It was unmistakably a childhood toy, the sort that had survived countless adventures through forests, afternoons perched in tree branches, and more nights tucked beneath blankets than anyone could ever remember. Someone had loved it too much to ever replace it, even after it had broken.

Elsewhere rested small reminders of the people she had met along the way. A braided bracelet exchanged with another traveler before their roads parted forever. A polished shell given to her by a child who insisted it was lucky. A tiny carving whose imperfections made it far more precious than anything fashioned by a master artisan because she remembered exactly who had placed it in her hands.

None of the objects were valuable. Every one of them was priceless.

The room smelled faintly of cedar, sandalwood, dried herbs hanging near the open window, and the lingering scent that Muad had already come to recognize as uniquely Rin. It was peaceful without being pristine, tidy without feeling arranged, and comfortable in the effortless way that only a room lived in for many years could become.

She watched him quietly as his eyes wandered from one treasured memory to the next, and somehow that left her feeling more vulnerable than confessing her love ever had.

Inviting Muad into her room had been simple. Inviting him into the quiet story of the girl she had been and the woman she had become was something else entirely. Yet as she looked at him standing there, she realized she would not have chosen anyone else to see it first.

Muad Dib

 

[Muad Dib]

The weight of his words settled between them, not uncomfortably. In the silence, he felt her reaching out in the Force. Not to verify the validity of his statement, but to touch on the core of what he felt. There was an honesty there, a genuineness of emotion. There were no grandiose statements to lead them into action. Merely what existed. A stripped and bare vulnerability earmarked for her ears only.

He knew it was crazy. But it didn't change how right it felt. Here they were, with the patience afforded them by long lives, like the crack in a boulder slowly being widened by the elements as water deeper in and froze, expanding the crack larger and larger, until the stone finally broke in half. That was the patience they both possessed. Time. Still, it did not take into account the power of what grew from their first meeting in the forests of Batuu. What continued to grow.

The tendrils of who she was wove around and through him, and he allowed the tentative purchase inside with free rein. Not to prove anything to Rin. Rather, because he wanted there to be no secrets betwixt the two. They had stood upon the precipice of the cavernous thing before them. Unspoke. Unnamed. Until he leapt and gave word to what existed. And he fell with the assuredness that he might be plummeting to his own demise. But the risk was greater should he never have spoken of what he felt.

Rin's words slowly flooded from her, almost like the red tint that worked its way back to the tips of her ears. All he did was listen, accepting everything she spoke with the honesty she had shared since Batuu. With unerring certainty, she revealed her own thoughts and feelings, which caused his own face to warm at the depth she shared. It would seem they both had stepped from the ledge together. Hand in hand. And he was all the more grateful for it.

"I don't actually want to let go." He smiled at that and thought, you won't ever have to. Rin released his hand to turn to the door. A simple, basic latch held her door shut. Such a benign thing separating the inner haven of her room from him. And then it no longer stood between them, her hand opening the door and sharing her secret place.

With nary a thought, he crossed the threshold to observe the room. A large bed rested on a handcrafted frame that demanded attention. An old comforter stretched across its length. He smirked. "A bit larger than the cot." His voice teasingly reminded her of that particular memory as he slowly began to walk around the room.

Items from a hundred different rooms were held in places of importance. Books lowered shelves without thought to uniformity. It wasn't messy. Instead, it was lived in. Comfortable. His hands hovered about one such book and he glanced up in askance. When all he received was a soft smile, he took it for permission and picked up the volume. Memories tugged at him through the Force, but he didn't need it to reveal its secrets.

It was an old book of poetry. Not nearly his age, but certainly predating the zorren woman to whom it belonged. His boots carried him around the room while his fingers gently turned the yellowed pages. Ink underlined passages, words of flowery fluidity. Near the middle was a bookmark made from strands of grass woven into a pattern. Though long past its prime, the strands retained their glory of golds and greens. Another reminder of a distant off-world trip.

He paused before a long shelf that ran along the entire length of one wall. Nearly chest height for him, he recognized with a light smile it would be about head height for Rin. High enough it was separate from other things, but low enough she would see everything on the mahogany shelf whenever she stood. Slowly he closed the book and eased along the shelf, taking in the treasures Rin had chosen to place there.

A small painting, obviously a child's, from the small fingerprints left in the paint. A necklace of incandescent seashells, the twine grown frayed from wear. Against the wall leaned an old flute; a crack ran along from the reed piece to where music would escape. There was no functionality left in the instrument: only sentimental value and the key to a memory which Rin possessed. A collection of stones piled haphazardly into a pile glinted with a rainbow's worth of hues. On a pedestal of smelted ore, an eagle of burnished copper sat with outstretched wings.

Each item was carefully selected and placed with the utmost precision. Every piece revealed another token of her childhood and travels. Then his gaze fell on a small carving. A miniature bust, Rin's face looked out from the wooden carving. The ghost of a smile hinted from the wooden lips. Her eyes retained a glimmer of mirth in an expression often worn by the real woman. Whoever carved the small figure understood who Rin was. A graceful neck slipped into her shoulders before the carving ended at the blossoming of her chest—a keen eye for details.

He should know, for it was his hand that created it. His head turned, and he arched an eyebrow. She had held onto it. Once again, the warmth from a random action Rin made caused him to smile like a madman. With a shake of his head, he continued the last few steps around the room to the last object. Which happened to be the first item he remarked on upon entering Rin's room—her bed. A thickly crafted oval rug engulfed the edges of his boots as he sank into its deep embrace.

He sprung lightly on his toes and he bounced on the rug. "Feels comfortable. Probably more so than the cot. You can keep your bed and I can sleep down here." A lopsided grin stretched across his face. Here he was, invited into her home, and brought into her room and he was still giving her every chance of an out. The rug did feel pretty comfortable. And, they could still wake up in one another's vicinity. The choice was hers.

Rin Taal

 

[Rin Taal]

Rin remained quietly near the doorway after Muad stepped inside, resisting every instinct to follow him from shelf to shelf and explain every keepsake before he had the chance to discover it for himself. She wanted him to know this room the same way he had come to know her since Batuu. Patiently. Quietly. One small truth at a time. It was a strange feeling, watching someone she was falling for wander through the only place in the galaxy that had never been arranged for anyone else's eyes. Family came and went without ceremony. Friends had rarely ventured farther than the sitting room. This room had always belonged solely to her. Yet as she watched him pause over the smallest objects, giving each one the same thoughtful attention he gave everything else that mattered, she realized she wasn't anxious that he might misunderstand them. She found herself hoping he would understand exactly what they said about her. He wasn't simply looking around her room. He was quietly learning the woman who had grown up inside it. Somehow, that left her feeling more exposed than confessing her love ever had.

While Muad continued exploring, Rin slipped quietly to the wardrobe built into one corner of the room and pulled open its familiar doors. For years it had been nothing more than a place to keep tomorrow's clothes and yesterday's memories folded neatly together, yet this evening she caught herself smiling at the absurdity of rummaging through it looking for something another person might wear. It was such an ordinary little act, yet it carried with it the startling realization that she wanted him to be comfortable here, not simply because he was a guest, but because she wanted this room to become a place where he could feel at home. The thought lingered warmly in her chest as she pulled free the largest shirt she owned, held it up against herself, then glanced over at Muad's broad shoulders. A laugh escaped before she could stop it.

"Well..." she admitted, lifting the shirt another few centimeters as though that might somehow help. "Your shoulders may have defeated me."

She carried it over and laid it neatly across the foot of the bed before returning to the wardrobe in one last hopeful search. It proved no more successful than the first. Every pair of pants she owned would have ended somewhere around the middle of his shins, a discovery that only widened her smile as she finally closed the wardrobe doors.

"You're on your own for pants, I'm afraid." Her eyes danced with quiet amusement. "Unless you've secretly always wanted to discover what it feels like wearing clothing several sizes too small."

When she turned back toward him, she found him gently testing the thick rug beneath his boots before casually volunteering to sleep there instead of sharing her bed. For a long moment she simply looked at him, one eyebrow slowly climbing as she tried to decide whether he genuinely believed she would ever agree to such an arrangement or whether this was simply another way he continued giving her opportunities to change her mind. The answer, she suspected with quiet amusement, was probably both. Without saying a word, she crossed the room and held out her hand.

He accepted it without hesitation. Her fingers settled naturally around his as she drew him back onto his feet, and instead of releasing him afterward she remained where she was, close enough for the warmth between them to return as effortlessly as breathing. It still surprised her how quickly that closeness had become something she sought rather than questioned. Only a few hours earlier she would have worried that standing this near presumed too much. Somewhere between Batuu, the rain, the laughter, and everything they had shared that evening, that uncertainty had quietly disappeared. She no longer found herself searching for reasons to step back. If anything, she found herself wondering why she ever would. Looking up into his eyes, she realized that perhaps this was why his suggestion of sleeping on the floor had sounded so utterly impossible. It wasn't simply that he was her guest. Somewhere along the way, without ever making a conscious decision, she had already begun thinking of him as someone she wanted beside her when she fell asleep and, perhaps even more importantly, someone she wanted to find there when she opened her eyes again.

A gentle smile softened her features as her thumb drifted slowly across the back of his hand.

"It doesn't work like that." There was no embarrassment left in her voice now, only the quiet certainty that had carried her through every honest thing she had shared with him that evening. "You're my guest, and here guests aren't sent to sleep on the floor while their host enjoys the bed."

She let the explanation hang between them for only a heartbeat before smiling to herself and giving the smallest shake of her head. It sounded perfectly reasonable, yet even as the words left her lips she knew it was no longer the whole truth. Yesterday that answer might have satisfied her. Yesterday she might even have believed it herself. After everything they had shared since waking that morning, however, hiding behind courtesy felt strangely dishonest. He had trusted her with the deepest parts of his heart, and she found she wanted to offer him nothing less in return. A soft laugh escaped her, warm with affection, as if even she could hardly believe how naturally honesty had begun replacing hesitation between them. "Although...if I'm being completely honest, that isn't really why."

Her golden eyes never left his as another faint blush found her cheeks, but there was no retreat in her expression now. Only the steady courage of someone choosing vulnerability over the safety of leaving certain things unsaid. "I realized tonight I didn't want to let go of your hand." The admission settled quietly between them, and with it came another realization she hadn't fully appreciated until she spoke it aloud. Somewhere during the course of the evening she had stopped wondering whether she should let herself fall in love with him. By the time she had noticed, it had already happened. "I think I'd rather wake up beside you than wake up wishing I'd asked." Saying the words aloud felt less like taking a risk than acknowledging something that had quietly become true.

Her fingers gave his hand the gentlest squeeze as she stepped just a little closer, close enough that there was no longer any space between them left to question. There was nothing hurried in the movement and nothing uncertain in her smile. It carried all the quiet certainty she had discovered within herself that evening, the realization that sometimes the heart reached its conclusion long before the mind found the courage to admit it. "So no, Muad. You aren't sleeping on the floor." Her smile softened into something wonderfully tender as she looked up at him, the warmth in her expression saying as much as her words ever could. "I want to share my bed with you."

Muad Dib

 

[Muad Dib]

When her hand slipped into his, he rose to his feet and was invaded by her body. The distance between them disappeared, and as he looked into her golden eyes, he knew this was right. The distance between two strangers on Batuu had surrendered to a closer proximity due to their burgeoning friendship. Their dance that night erased even the slightest breath of space as they felt the contours of one another. And ever since the willow, this close intimacy wasn't the exception, but the norm. And he liked that very much.

Her words came slowly until they reached the crescendo. "I want to share my bed with you." The calm acceptance came then. With everything that had come before, it was here that he finally recognized the establishment of their relationship. Strangers to friends. Attached to established. This wasn't a one-night fling. Nor was it merely a friendly sleepover. Her words said it was his face she wanted to close her eyes to at night. And his eyes waiting for when hers opened. An intimacy he never thought to have. Not again. And even as he considered his previous relationship, he realized they never really had that. They were both rolling stones that gathered no moss. Rarely were they together. And when they were, especially in the later years, the weight of responsibility tempered whatever passion they once had. Even their beginning was filled with madness. Their eventual union came from shared grief and betrayal of a man they both loved.

With Rin, no baggage brought them together. No external bonds that united them at the festival. Only desire, want, need, and the freedom of choice. His hands slipped up her arms and cradled her face between his hands. His thumbs traced the line of her chin before caressing the corners of her lips. He swam in the golden pools that looked at him in a way he never knew he wanted. And it was then that he decided.

"I love you." His hands lightly tilted her chin, his eyes gazing at her beauty. Slowly, his head began to lower, his lips parting ever so slightly. He knew what he was doing, and he did not regret it in the slightest. It was something he'd been desiring to do ever since their proclamations to one another in the den. His face neared hers, their breath now mingling in the inevitable approach of his lips. Until they touched, and he gave the gentlest kiss in the history of the galaxy, right on the very tip of her nose.

He pulled back, hands sliding away from her face as he smiled. "I've been wanting to do that all night." His fingertips traced their way to her chest, where they hovered above her heart. "I feel you now. Bet neither one of us knew what was coming when we first let our thoughts flow together. I don't regret it one bit except for maybe when we were in the forest. You tempted me back on Batuu. From the first time I laid eyes on you. Now I know that was only the beginning of this. And it makes Batuu even more precious."

Slowly, he lowered himself to sit on the edge of the bed and reached out to wrap his arms around her waist, before drawing her near, then against him. He turned his head and nestled against her chest and simply breathed in. The familiar scent of her body flooded his nose. This was what he wanted. Her. Close to him. He sighed into the valley of her chest. This was home.

"You know", he began, a smile shading the tone of his words. "You said I was a guest. Do you treat all your guests with such … hospitality?" He chuckled against her stomach. "If I knew this, I would have come straight to Veradune after leaving Batuu." Another sigh escaped as he turned his head slightly, the stubble on his face catching the fabric of her shirt. Then he leaned back and loosened his arms from her waist until they lay upon the curves of her hips.

"I do believe your clothing will be a bit too small. Although it wouldn't have been the first time I've worn women's clothing. There was this one time we needed to sneak into the Queen's quarters and only ladies in waiting could enter. I make a rather comely lass." As he spoke, one hand trailed along the top of her pants, fingertips lightly caressing the satin skin above. "But perhaps I should sleep on the rug. My virtue cannot be in question. And I doubt your parents would be thrilled to find us together in the morning." He smirked as he stopped teasing Rin too much.

"Although, I think I'll risk it. But I really shouldn't wear these clothes to bed. I've been in them all day. I could always ask Corren for a change of clothes. Tell him otherwise, I'll be sleeping very, very free beside his daughter in her bed. I'm sure you wouldn't want that. A man in a completely … vulnerable state, beside you, beneath the blankets …" His glowing eyes matched the decidedly lecherous grin on his face before it softened somewhat. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable, darlin'. And, I haven't said it yet, but I love your room."

Rin Taal

 

[Rin Taal]

The words settled over her with such quiet certainty that they almost escaped notice.

I love you.

She had never imagined they would sound so... peaceful. Not accompanied by racing thoughts or uncertainty or the overwhelming fear of saying the wrong thing, but with the simple comfort of recognizing something that had already become true. Standing there with his hands gently framing her face, his glowing eyes searching only hers, she realized the surprise wasn't that he loved her. The surprise was that hearing it felt so completely natural. Somewhere between finding him beneath the trees beside his crashed ship and everything they had shared throughout this remarkable evening, those words had quietly stopped belonging to an imagined future. They belonged here.

Then his lips found the end of her nose.

For the briefest heartbeat she simply blinked before laughter escaped her, soft enough that it scarcely disturbed the silence surrounding them. Her nose wrinkled instinctively as she leaned forward until her forehead rested lightly against his. It wasn't the first time his lips had brushed her skin. Somehow that only made the tiny kiss sweeter. There remained one kiss they had not yet shared, and neither of them seemed in any hurry to steal it from the right moment. Instead he had chosen the very tip of her nose, and somehow that captured everything she was already learning about him. Affection before passion. Tenderness before urgency. It was so unmistakably Muad that she suspected she would remember it long after a hundred grander kisses might have faded.

"I love you too."

The words emerged almost as quietly as his own had. She wasn't returning them because she believed they were expected, nor because silence would have felt awkward. She said them because they were simply true. Her heart had arrived at the destination before the rest of her had realized the journey was over. Speaking them aloud felt less like making a promise than acknowledging one that already existed. For someone who had spent so much of her life carefully considering every important choice, she found remarkable comfort in discovering that love had never asked her permission. It had simply arrived while she wasn't looking.

She listened while he spoke of Batuu, of temptation, and of the strange little bond that neither of them had expected to become what it was when she first communicated with him. Her own mind wandered instead to the beginning. She could still picture him lying beneath the trees beside the broken hull of his ship, a complete stranger who had quite literally fallen into her world. She had approached because someone needed help. Nothing more complicated than that. Never, in all the futures she might have imagined for herself, would she have guessed that a simple act of kindness would lead to this moment. Tonight she had shown him the places that had shaped her while he had quietly found a place within her life she hadn't realized was waiting to be filled. Whether the Force had guided either of them no longer mattered. She was simply grateful she had walked toward the wreckage instead of away from it.

When he lowered himself onto the edge of the bed and gently drew her toward him, she came willingly until his head rested comfortably against her. One hand settled lightly across his shoulder while the other slipped into his dark hair, her fingers moving through it in slow, absent circles that required no conscious thought. She found herself smiling at how natural it already felt. A few weeks ago, they had been strangers. Now standing quietly between his arms felt as ordinary as breathing. Perhaps that should have frightened her. Instead it filled her with a deep and abiding sense of peace. For the first time in a very long life, tomorrow seemed entirely content to wait its turn.

His question drew another quiet laugh, warm enough that she felt it vibrate gently through her chest.

"No," she admitted softly, the answer carrying a quiet certainty rather than hesitation. "You're my first guest that's ever made it this far." Her fingers never stopped their unhurried path through his hair, each slow pass as natural as breath itself, and when she looked down at him, the tenderness in her expression was unguarded, almost disarming in its ease.

"And if I'm being completely honest..." She let the thought linger just long enough for him to meet her gaze again, as if the words deserved to be spoken only once they were fully seen. "You're also the only one I've ever wanted to."

His concern about her parents only broadened her smile. It was oddly endearing that, after everything they had shared, this was what worried him. She shook her head with gentle amusement, her thumb brushing almost unconsciously through another lock of his hair.

"Muad..."

Her voice softened as she said his name, not as a correction, but as something fond and grounding, as though simply speaking it steadied the moment between them. The warmth in her eyes deepened as she held his gaze, unhurried and certain in a way that left no room for doubt or defensiveness. "I'm a hundred and fifty-four years old." A small, almost self-aware laugh slipped out of her before she continued, the sound light enough to ease any tension that might have tried to form. "Who I entertain is my choice, not theirs." There was no rebellion in the words, only quiet fact, spoken with the calm authority of someone who had long since learned what parts of her life belonged to her alone.

One eyebrow lifted ever so slightly as she studied him, the expression softening into something more teasing than stern. "And besides..." she added, letting the pause linger just long enough to draw him in before the corners of her mouth curved upward. The smile that followed was gentle, but unmistakably warm, carrying both memory and reassurance in equal measure. "It won't be the first time you've been that vulnerable beside me." Her tone carried no judgment in it, only quiet affection for the truth of what they had already shared, as though vulnerability between them had never been something to fear, only something they had already begun to understand together.

The memory of Batuu lingered between them with surprising fondness. She remembered cleaning his wounds, the exhaustion he had tried so hard to hide, and the trust he'd placed in someone he'd only just met. Looking down at him now, it was difficult to reconcile that guarded stranger with the man comfortably holding her around the waist. She found she loved both versions of him.

His compliment about her room touched her more deeply than she expected. This little space held nearly every version of herself that had ever existed, from the child who had fallen asleep dreaming beneath its ceiling to the woman now standing in the embrace of the man she loved. Wanting to end the day as comfortably as possible, she slipped her hands from his hair and shoulder and stepped back just enough to hook her fingers beneath the hem of her travel shirt. The fabric lifted easily over her head before she folded it with practiced care and laid it across the chair beside the bed, leaving only the soft sleeveless top she normally slept in. There was no self-consciousness in the movement, only the quiet intimacy of sharing the ordinary rhythms of life with someone she trusted completely. When she looked back at him, her smile returned as naturally as ever.

"As for your clothes..." she began, a playful sparkle returning to her golden eyes as she looked him over with open, affectionate curiosity. "I still think I'd like to see this rather comely lady-in-waiting someday." The thought drew a soft, breathy laugh from her, light and unguarded, before she extended her hand toward him once more, as if the idea itself could wait for another night entirely. "But tonight..." Her voice softened, the teasing warmth giving way to something quieter and far more certain, and her smile followed suit, becoming gentle in a way that seemed to settle the room around them. "...I'd rather just fall asleep beside the man I love."

Muad Dib

 

[Muad Dib]

Hearing he was her first guest to make it this far wasn't really surprising. Not that he didn't think Rin had a plethora of suitors. He'd met her and knew without doubt there must have been a gaggle of men wanting into her bedroom and into her bed. But Rin wasn't that type of woman. Then again, there could have been a decade or two where he could easily have experimented and explored her sensuality. And yet, he was the only one to reach this particular destination.

When she said he was the only one she ever wanted to, he felt the blossoming of warmth beneath his skin. Then again, it could also have been her fingers running through his hair. He grinned as he looked up to meet her gaze. No, it was because of her words, which were a reflection of her heart. The word vulnerable came to mind, but it wasn't right. They weren't being vulnerable with one another. They were bare and open for each other to see all they were. Their strengths. Their weaknesses. The power of their character and the small imperfections. Though it would seem he was still searching for hers. Every aspect of Rin was a gem, whether she believed it or not. It was what made her the woman he started falling for on Batuu. The one he didn't fall for in Veradune, but leapt into the chasm for.

Her choice was Muad. And she expressed that by reiterating her age and maturity. To most, the number equaling just over one and a half centuries would have been daunting. For him, she was a much younger woman. He wouldn't hold it against him, but he planned to hold her against him. For a long time. Maybe decades. Possibly centuries. Potentially millennia. For however long she wanted him next to her, he would be there. The thought crossed his mind at the age of her parents. With a laugh, he shook his head. I'm older than your parents. And probably their parents. And theirs, still. I mean, I have aged well, considering. But I think that might be a wonderfully amusing conversation, don't you?

When she stepped away, he didn't follow her with overwhelming compulsion. Instead, he leaned back on his elbows and watched with a grin as she slipped her outer garments off her head. He caught several glimpses of skin as of yet unseen. And that did cause a growl of hunger to rumble in his chest. Then he shook his head with amused enjoyment and bent to unlace his boots and slip them free. His socks joined the boots where they were slid just underneath the massive frame of the bed. By then, Rin held her hand out to him, and he clasped it to stand. Unlike almost every other time, they were both relatively free of weaponry. Though not totally. His memory flashed to how she dispatched several enemies with the power of her talons. He raised her hand and lightly kissed her fingertips before releasing her hand and stepping back.

"I guess if we are getting comfortable …", he spoke teasingly as his hands gripped the bottom of his tan tunic and pulled it up over his head. The tunic was tossed across the back of the chair as his eyes glanced down at his body. The definition in his shoulders, arms, and chest was clear. As was the strength in his form. But that wasn't what drew his gaze. Scars, both ancient and newer, decorated his form. Mementos of battles. He could have easily had them removed with bacta treatments, but he never did. Rin collected mementos, items, and other belongings to bring home with her. Things to remember about her journeys. He had no room decorated with such things. There was no home where he retreated to, only places with people.

Never had he been self-conscious. Not once. But now, as his hand touched several scars that marred his abs, he felt … less. Holodramas, vids, and every other marketing plot of every single item for sale across the galaxy always portrayed men and women without a mark to blemish their skin. And here he was, his body a book written in braille of a life of violence. Even rounding the tops of his shoulders and around his sides were the deep layers of torture and whippings. His back was a mess of scar tissue from multiple sessions of torture. Despite being in peak physical form, he was damaged in the viewing. A sad smile colored his expression for a moment. "Sorry that when you unwrap your present you find it's pre-owned and weathered. Not exactly handsome. But I make up for it with personality." He grinned then with a wink.

His hands went to his belt, and he slowly unbuckled it before his fingers worked the clasp of his pants. A shocked expression filtered across his face. "Hey! Eyes up here, darlin'. Looking at me like a steak …" The inflection of his voice shared his jovial amusement as he finished with the zipper and bent, shoving the trousers down to his ankles. As he pulled his feet free, he smirked. This time he wore a pair of black boxer briefs that clung to his form without revealing every aspect of his body. "What? You think I always go commando? Remember that branch that impaled my hip? Well, when I cauterized the wound, it destroyed the pair I was wearing."

He stepped forward and tossed his trousers over his tunic and just stood there. "I love the sound of my name on your lips. Now, what does a guy have to do to get you into bed?"

Rin Taal

 

[Rin Taal]

Watching him remove his tunic changed nothing and yet somehow changed everything.

Until now, so much of what she had learned about Muad had come through stories, through quiet moments, and through the strange honesty their connection seemed to invite. Now another chapter lay before her, written not in words but across the landscape of his body. Her eyes wandered without embarrassment, not with hunger alone but with quiet wonder. Every scar interrupted what might otherwise have been flawless skin, yet none of them diminished him. If anything, they made him more unmistakably himself. This was the man who had stood between danger and strangers more times than he could count. The man who carried the weight of old wars without pretending they had never happened. The man she loved. They were reminders that he had endured, survived, and chosen to keep moving forward. To her, they were beautiful.

His teasing accusation earned exactly the reaction he had hoped for. A warm chuckle escaped her as she realized where her eyes had lingered, and she made no attempt whatsoever to deny it.

"You did tell me to get comfortable."

The smile that accompanied the words was wonderfully innocent despite the faint blush warming her cheeks. She obediently lifted her eyes back to his face with exaggerated innocence, managing to hold the expression for perhaps two whole seconds before they betrayed her completely and drifted downward again.

"...I tried."

When his hand drifted almost self-consciously across the older scars, however, her amusement softened into something infinitely gentler. She stepped back toward him without hurry, closing the little distance he'd created until her fingertips found his wrist first, quietly stilling the motion. Only then did they wander of their own accord, feather-light against weathered skin, tracing the pale lines that crossed his chest and shoulders with the same patient curiosity he had shown every keepsake in her room. She wasn't cataloging injuries. She was reading another collection of memories, another lifetime preserved in tangible form beneath her fingertips.

"A life well lived." The words were little more than a whisper, reverent rather than pitying. "Every one of these tells me you kept getting back up." Her fingers lingered over another faded mark before she looked back into his eyes, her smile growing softer still. "I'd love to collect your stories someday."

His apology drew an expression of genuine confusion before she understood what he believed she might see when she looked at him. It saddened her more than she expected that someone who had survived so much could still imagine himself diminished by surviving it. Her hand rose to cup his cheek, her thumb brushing lightly across the stubble there with quiet affection while the other remained resting against his chest.

"Muad..." she smiled, the tenderness in it impossible to mistake as her gaze wandered over him once more before returning to meet his, steady and certain. "I don't see something worn out." Her voice softened as she stepped just a fraction closer, the warmth in her expression unwavering. "I see someone who refused to stay broken." She leaned forward until her forehead brushed his again, the contact gentle and grounding, letting the quiet truth settle comfortably between them before adding with a faint, affectionate smile, "I think you're incredibly handsome."

The compliment hung comfortably in the air as she glanced down at herself and finally noticed what neither of them had thought about until now. She was still wearing the embroidered festival skirt she'd spent the evening dancing in. It drew another quiet laugh from her. Somewhere between confessions of love and whispered promises, practicality had simply ceased to matter. Slipping her thumbs beneath the waistband, she eased the skirt free and stepped out of it before folding it with the same practiced care she'd shown every other belonging that evening. She laid it neatly across the chair beside her boots, leaving herself in the soft sleeveless sleeping shirt and the comfortable shorts she normally wore beneath the festival clothes. There was nothing performative about the little ritual. If anything, it felt wonderfully ordinary. Two travelers quietly putting away the day before sharing the peace that followed.

She closed the remaining distance between them until scarcely any space remained. Gently taking one of his hands after he kissed her fingertips, she guided it to rest against the small of her back while her own settled once more upon the warmth of his bare chest. Her fingers drifted slowly across his skin, feeling the quiet strength beneath it and the faint ridges she'd already begun committing to memory. The contrast between the softness of her sleeping shirt beneath his hand and the living warmth beneath hers stole a slow breath from her. Looking up into his glowing eyes, she smiled with that same peaceful certainty that had carried her through the evening.

"I want to feel your skin against mine, Muad."

The words carried no urgency and asked for nothing beyond what they had already chosen together. They were simply another quiet truth. She wanted to fall asleep listening to the steady rhythm beneath her fingertips, to wake beside the warmth she had somehow found beneath the trees of a crashed ship only weeks before. After a lifetime spent collecting memories from distant places, she realized the one she wanted most wasn't an artifact she could carry home. It was the man standing in front of her, and she intended to cherish every story he had yet to tell.

Muad Dib

 

[Muad Dib]

It was his turn to find his eyes following Rin's movements as she slipped the skirt from her curved home and down across her shapely legs. Her figure wore the leanness of a hunter, the athletic build he had come to know in their adventures on Batuu. But there was no mistaking the femininity she also carried. Instead of straight lines of malnourished athleticism that strip away flesh, her body held curves and a suppleness that drew all moisture from his mouth that hung partially open. She was a warrior, a hunter, and a woman. Of that there was no doubt.

My woman.

His thought drifted along their bond as she neared, placing his hand at the small of her back before letting her fingers trace his chest, memorizing scar-studded muscle. The fingers of his hand splayed across the flesh beneath his hand and pulled her gently closer, their bodies pressed together. Forehead lowered against her as his eyes closed and he sighed. She wanted this as much as he did. Despite the thin cloth separating them, the contours of their bodies melded together until he didn't know where she began and he stopped.

There was no hurry. No need for any more words. They didn't need any. Words were spoken, and now they rested in that peaceful place of silence. Not empty. Never empty. During his long life, he had searched where he belonged. Then he accepted the fact he was an outlier. There was nowhere he belonged. But now, in a family communal compound, standing in a room that wasn't his, with a woman common sense would claim he didn't know well enough, he found exactly where he wanted to be. Where he belonged. It was with Rin.

His free hand reached behind him to grip the thick comforter and drew it back. They moved as one, knees finding their way into the center of the mattress before he leaned down on his left side and drew her along with him. His head lay on the pillow while his left arm stretched out so she could be drawn down into his embrace. Her head nestled into the crook of his arm. Strands of her multihued hair tickled his skin. His right hand trailed down from where his fingers caressed her jaw, down over where her shirt covered her chest, to where it rode up on one hip. Fingers paused for a moment as his thumb caressed her hip bone, then down one thigh to the crook of her knee. He rolled to his back and pulled her closer.

A smile curved his lips as he gazed at her. "You are a thing of beauty, my little witch." His hand reached lower and gripped the comforter to draw up and over their bodies. He lay there, feeling her heartbeat against his chest, her soft skin against his own scarred. The bright glow of his blue eyes melded with her illuminating gold ones. And there, in the handspan separating their faces, the two distinct colors overlapped and brought something to life from two distinct hues. A soft green glow bathed his arm and chest.
In the same way their eyes combined to birth a new color because of their proximity, so did the separate and distinct lives of two individuals unite to create a singular future. For however long they had. Or however short.

And he found it was enough to know they were together without promises or oaths that would bind them together. The future would be what they made of it. And despite her thigh laying over his hip, eliciting a surge of desire, he basked in the moment with Rin. This was their moment. Theirs. And it was perfect.

Rin Taal

 

[Rin Taal]

His words settled around her like the comforter he'd drawn over them, warm enough to quiet every lingering uncertainty she had carried into the room. Somewhere between Batuu and Veradune she had stopped wondering whether she belonged beside him. Now, with his hand resting at the small of her back and his forehead against hers, she couldn't imagine wanting to be anywhere else. The thought that drifted unbidden across their bond made her cheeks warm all over again.

My woman.

She felt it as clearly as though he had whispered it into her ear.

Instead of startling her, it settled quietly inside her chest. She didn't question it or hurry to answer it with matching words. She simply smiled, the sort of smile that belonged only to him now, and allowed herself to lean fully into the embrace. The steady beat beneath his breast met her own until she could no longer tell whether it was his heart or hers filling the silence between them.

When he eased them backward onto the bed, she followed without resistance, one hand resting lightly against his shoulder to steady them both as they settled among the pillows. She found herself half draped across him almost by accident, one knee slipping comfortably between his while her arm remained loosely around his waist. It felt astonishingly natural. There was no awkwardness in discovering how their bodies fit together, only quiet curiosity and the growing realization that every small adjustment somehow left them even more comfortable than before. His fingertips wandering along her side and down her thigh coaxed an involuntary shiver from her, answered by the smallest smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she nestled just a little closer.

His compliment drew another blush.

"You keep looking at me like that," she murmured, amusement warming every word, "and I'm going to start believing you."

The soft green glow where their eyes mingled caught her attention next. She watched it dance across the blanket and his chest with quiet wonder before lifting her gaze back to his. Somehow it felt fitting. Two distinct colors meeting without either one disappearing, creating something entirely new simply because they were close enough to touch. She couldn't help wondering if that wasn't exactly what they were doing as well, each remaining wholly themselves while somehow becoming something richer together.

Without thinking about it, she shifted again, her movement carrying her a little higher until she found herself looking down at him instead. One forearm rested lightly across his chest to support her weight while a loose strand of hair escaped to brush against his cheek. Golden eyes regarded him with playful affection, and she couldn't quite suppress the smile that followed as she realized the positions had quietly reversed.

"Well..." she said thoughtfully, pretending to consider the situation with great seriousness, "this seems terribly unfair." Her fingertips wandered idly through the hair near his temple before tucking an unruly lock back into place.

"You spend all evening telling me how beautiful I am, then somehow convince me to lie on top of you." She tilted her head ever so slightly. "I think there may be a strategy developing here." The accusation carried absolutely no conviction whatsoever.

A quiet laugh escaped her as she let herself relax fully, lowering just enough that her forehead brushed his once more. Her nose lightly nudged his in passing, playful enough to make it clear she remembered exactly where his kiss had landed. The memory alone was enough to make her smile widen.

"You're fortunate," she whispered, her voice barely louder than the rustle of the comforter around them. "I'm beginning to think I rather enjoy being exactly where you've managed to convince me to be."

She remained there for a long, comfortable moment, simply looking at him. There was no need to fill the room with more confessions. They had already entrusted one another with the deepest truths either possessed. Now there was only the quiet joy of existing together, wrapped beneath a borrowed moment that neither of them seemed eager to surrender. If this was what the beginning of their road felt like, Rin found herself hoping it would be a very, very long one.

She remained there for a long, comfortable moment, simply looking at him. There was no need to fill the room with more confessions. They had already entrusted one another with the deepest truths either possessed. Now there was only the quiet joy of existing together, wrapped beneath a borrowed moment that neither of them seemed eager to surrender. If this was what the beginning of their road felt like, Rin found herself hoping it would be a very, very long one.

Her hand drifted almost absentmindedly through his hair once more before resting lightly against the side of his face. She lingered there for another heartbeat, quietly memorizing him from this angle, the soft glow of his blue eyes, the relaxed smile that seemed to appear more often whenever he looked at her, and the warmth radiating beneath her fingertips. A smile of her own answered it as she leaned down, her lips brushing his cheek in the gentlest of kisses before continuing the slow journey toward his jaw.

The feather-light touches became an unhurried trail, each one lingering only long enough to be felt before the next followed, tracing the familiar line beneath his ear and down the side of his neck. It was less a search for passion than an expression of affection, her own quiet way of telling him without words that she wanted to remember him with every sense she possessed. When she finally paused, her forehead came to rest lightly against the side of his head, her nose nestled comfortably against his temple as she smiled to herself.

"Goodnight, Muad," she whispered, her voice carrying the contentment of someone who had found exactly where she wanted to be. "I'm very glad I found you beneath those trees."

Muad Dib

 

[Muad Dib]

His eyes closed and his head slightly tilted toward her touch. Her fingers running through his hair gave him chills and tingles of warmth simultaneously. When she pushed herself up his body, one arm sliding across his chest, he opened his eyes to look into her amber ones. A loose strand fell to his face, a caress just as soft as her fingertips. His breath caught in his lungs. The way she looked at him caused a sheepish grin to cross his face while his hand tightened against her body. Not in ownership. Or in maddened desire. Simply because he wanted her infinitesimally closer.

The smirk returned at her words. There was no devious plan of seduction or an attempt to grow passions past the point of no return. I just want you in my arms so that, when I wake, you will be the first thing I see. Although if he had planned a seduction, it would look eerily similar. A light laugh escaped him as he neither confirmed nor denied her playful allegations.

Her kisses along his jaw were filled with something other than desire. Sweet. An external show of affection. He surrendered to the sensations as his neck partially arched, leaning into the feathery touch of her lips. And when she said goodnight, he sighed in blissful contentment. Her eyes still looked up at him despite the fogginess of exhaustion. His lips curled, and he leaned forward to kiss each eyelid gently.

"G'night, Rin." And as suddenly as a breath, their night was complete. No more words. No more impish touch. Only the woman he was falling for in his arms. His eyes memorized how the soft light enhanced her relaxed beauty—the slight rise and fall of her chest against his. The feeling of her heart rate slowing as sleep reached for her. How her tail flicked across his waist, the tip undulating slowly.

Sleep was the furthest thing on his mind, and yet, he felt its hands reaching out to grip him. Eyelids dropped as he remembered the cot and how necessity had pulled them together. Tonight it wasn't need, or want, or desire. It was choice. And all the other three components were part of the choice. The vision of Rin and him in the speeder with two elf eared blue eyed children floated to mind as he blinked twice more. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to life then him being a weapon. Maybe, it was here, with Rin in his arms.

His eyes finally closed and a soft smile tugged at his lips as he found a peace he had never known.

Rin Taal

 

[Rin Taal]

Sleep found Rin more quickly than she expected.

One moment she was listening to the slow, steady rhythm of Muad's breathing and heartbeat beneath her cheek, feeling the comforting rise and fall of his chest as though it had always been the most natural pillow in the galaxy. The next, consciousness slipped quietly away, carrying with it the warmth of his embrace into dreams gentler than any she had known in years.

She dreamed of a road.

Not the dusty trails and paths she'd traveled across a hundred worlds, but a simple country road disappearing toward a golden horizon. The trees arched overhead, their branches weaving together until sunlight filtered through in shifting ribbons of green and amber. She walked it without destination, never hurried, never searching. Beside her strode Muad, one hand loosely holding hers as though neither of them had ever questioned that it belonged there.

Sometimes they talked. Sometimes they laughed. Most of the time they simply walked.

The scenery changed around them with the peculiar logic that only dreams possessed. Veradune's towering forests gave way to Batuu's weathered stone spires before quietly becoming fields of waist-high grasses that swayed beneath warm afternoon winds. Somewhere ahead, children laughed, unseen but close enough that the sound carried easily through the breeze. Birds sang overhead. Somewhere a stream hurried over smooth stones. There was no mission waiting at the end of the road. No Sith. No duty. No expectation beyond continuing forward together for however far the path wished to carry them.

When she woke, the dream lingered.

The first pale light of dawn had begun filtering through the window, painting soft gold across the room while the world outside remained wonderfully quiet. For several long moments she couldn't remember where the dream had ended, and reality had begun.

Then she opened her eyes. Muad's face greeted hers exactly as she'd hoped it would.

He still slept peacefully, the lines that responsibility and old burdens etched across his features softened entirely by rest. The faint smile that had found him the night before remained, almost imperceptible, as though whatever dream had claimed him had been every bit as kind as her own. A loose strand of his dark hair rested across his forehead, and without thinking she reached up to gently brush it back into place.

Her smile came effortlessly.

"Good morning," she whispered, though the words were spoken more for herself than for him. She had wanted this. To wake beside him. To discover that the previous evening hadn't been another beautiful dream waiting to disappear with the dawn. Instead, he was here, close enough that she could still feel the warmth lingering where they'd slept curled together through the night.

She remained exactly where she was for a while longer, unwilling to disturb either him or the quiet perfection of the morning. Her eyes wandered lazily over his sleeping face, committing little details to memory she doubted anyone else would ever notice. The way his eyelashes rested against his cheeks. The relaxed set of his jaw. Even sleeping, he somehow looked ready to protect the world should it ask him to. The thought made her smile deepen.

Eventually practicality won its gentle argument with contentment.

With slow, careful movements, she eased herself from beneath his arm, pausing once or twice to be certain she hadn't disturbed his sleep. The mattress shifted only slightly beneath her weight before she quietly stood, smoothing her undershirt back into place as bare feet carried her soundlessly across the rug. Rather than dressing immediately, she wandered to the long shelf lining one wall and let her fingertips drift thoughtfully across familiar spines until one finally caught her attention.

A weathered volume of poetry. She smiled to herself.

Returning to the chair beside the window, she curled comfortably into it and opened the book where an old woven grass bookmark still waited between yellowed pages. Morning light gathered across the paper as she began to read, occasionally lifting her eyes from the verses to glance back toward the bed. More often than not, she found herself reading the same passage twice, not because the words demanded it, but because she had become distracted watching the man sleeping peacefully beneath her comforter.

For the first time in a very long while, Rin found herself in no hurry whatsoever for the day to begin.

Muad Dib