Penance

[Marcello Matteo]

Marcello remained silent as [member="Kiskla Grayson"] responded. It seemed like...almost no matter what he did or he did it, she managed to maintain some level of grace and poise in her responses. Even when he had been so bold as to brazenly kiss her on Mandalore, she'd not lashed out in attempt to end his life or otherwise physically maim him. In fact her hesitation and resistance had been so immersed in her typical quiet strength, he immediately regretted treating her in any other manner. However...that really wasn't his character. Marcello was a creature of extremes. The fire of his passion could melt anything and the chilling edge of his analytical mind and wit could freeze the same. Rarely was there...a middle ground. Kiskla was no exception, but she commanded the tide of his emotions when she was around. Completely.

It was a level of control that Marcello was realizing he was all too happy to allow to continue. Simmering at her touch and final words, Marcello returned to a more tranquil form of himself. What was not terribly evident by his posutre or intense gaze, however, was the passion that bubbled beneath the thin layer of his skin when around the only woman he cared deeply for. "I apologize for...lashing out." Twisting the hand that lay upon her shoulder around, the large Rogue took the Jedi's hand and brought it softly to his lips. "I scarcely deserve you and as for R9... Well let's just say he's not allowed to record our interactions. Never fear...I won't let you forget your moments of humanity."

Slowly, Marcello lowered Kiskla's hand back down to her side but maintained his grasp. Glacier-blue eyes seemed to ebb with his emotions but lingered in the moment. There was much to think about...mostly for things yet to come. For now though, he was happy to exist in this moment. "Yours is the only opinion that holds weight with me, Kiskla." Well that wasn't entirely true. Ryan remained ever important to Marcello as well, but it was different. He owed the young man an explanation, and he certainly would not allow his friend to walk in the dark of doubt and concern. The timing, however, would be critical. Ryan would not hesitate to do his duty, Marcello knew. The newly minted Knight was everything any Jedi should aspire to be.

"Also. These little brief visits, are going to drive me insane. You can't take a vacation, but I can do as I please. Keep that in mind if you ever hear the soft patter of rocks clattering against your window." Now if only it were true. Marcello was no more free to take a vacation than any other charged and accepting of the burden to serve the galaxy.

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

Woah woah woah, was that an apology? From the man who said he never apologized for anything, because no matter his actions the long and short of it was they made him who he was? For a moment, her expression betrayed her — and the flicker spilled surprise. Her eyes twitched with her brows as they furrowed slightly, and her head cocked as he drew her knuckles to his kiss. A small breath whistled over her tongue and out the small crack her lips allowed.

The animation of her features continued the more [member="Marcello Matteo"] spoke.

In appreciation of good humour, Kiskla’s nose wrinkled and her shoulders shrugged at Marcello’s commentary and mild assurance. A grin curled her lips — the kind that causes crows feet to spur on even the most youthful of faces. The suggestion of a Shakespearean inspired gesture was as humorous as it would have been romantic. Like the kind of fantasy every 16-year-old girl suffered. She could have said something poetic at this point, about [member="Marcello Matteo"] being her world or being exotic enough, or some other sort of fancy string of flowery musings. Because truth be told, from memory of their last and only intimate interaction, he was able to lift her through currents of starry visuals without leaving a length of proximity. And they served alcohol on most vacations; he certainly made her feel drunk. Kiskla was fairly well-spoken, and likely could have articulated that brilliantly. Something to pocket for later! Instead, she perversely slay the opportunity for pink verse. She'd spoken enough.

A wry grin spread from the middle of her mouth and tugged up the corners. Light eyes ignited with a mischievousness not unbeknownst to her male companion.

"Best to make the most of our time then." Marcello wasn't a big talker anyways; action was more his bag. With the suffocated amount of hours they were allotted, she could only honour him the mitigation of worthless tail-chasing he deserved. In order to actually conquer that proverbial tail. Yes, that metaphoric application just switched tracks between syllables. All aboard this illustrative train! And on the topic of cabooses.... The hand that Marcello held lifted slightly, directing his hold against the small of her back as while she moved forward to close the fraction of an inch that had been left between them. Her thumb pressed against his wrist while her other looped up to his shoulders, again having to slightly lift her height with a stretch of her calves and her foot's arch. Could you imagine if her height wasn't already above average? Her smile was now levelled with his, nose in the curve of his philtrum and those teeth that were so perfect for grinning grazed against his lower lip before finding something better to do: explain her appreciation beyond verbal sentiments.

 

[Marcello Matteo]

[member="Kiskla Grayson"]'s words were often laced with an element of humor or sarcasm when she was not discharging her more professional duties. In fact sarcasm, he knew, was practically a language the alluring Kiffar had created. However, in this particular instance of emotional entanglement on a...less than idyllic planet, Kiskla's words stirred not humor or any deeper thought. As was a power all her own, she transformed the ordinarily cold, calculating Rogue into something altogether different.

The former Jedi did not protest the manipulation of his appendage. Even as she stepped in to show where her own thoughts existed in that moment, Marcello was motionless. His emotions and desires silently swirled within the very core of his being, gradually building to a point of critical mass. The Rogue Master's control over said emotions remained fully in check as his glacier-blue eyes watched the chief administrator of the Jedi Order with growing interest. The second her mouth grazed against his own...

In a single, fluid motion, Marcello slipped his left hand around her right oblique and then up her back and over to her left shoulder. As his full lips found her own, the surprisingly soft skin wrapped around her own. In contrast to the dryness of the leaden air around them, the Naboo native's moist tongue gently drifted over the woman's bottom lip that was currently trapped passionately between both of his.

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

In the interests of the shrewd, it would be safe for the following summation to occur.

Feeling the reaction of strength after a moment of stillness initiated the first gleeful rush within the girl. Within a second, a mere adjustment of limbs, and she was successfully sealed in Matteo's wrap. Kiskla was a clever girl. She played with fire because she wanted to get burnt; and with her fortune for such a passionate pyromaniac, she'd be left with third degree burns.

For a stretching moment, Kiskla leaned into him with eager reciprocation. The balls of her feet balanced a good measure of her weight, and the arm nearest his shoulders tightened. Too, the asserted pressure from fingertips against his wrist until that also slipped to wind about the waist of the rogue. Not for long though, until it slithered to meet its sister around his shoulders and balance her weight once more as she made an aggressive transition. She was still in a tight proximity from the fighter he’d originally pressed her against, and had to avoid bumping her back or otherwise — but soon he’d feel her desire to be lifted and tangle her long legs around his waist, blonde hair like a curtain to surround his handsome features. Ha! Who had the height advantage now? It was a pleasant vantage point, one that caused a genuine smile to break the tonsil tango for a brief moment. It was one of those moments, where a person experiences such gratitude it manifests in a cheek-folding grin. Despite the inhumane heat, she shivered-- An excited ripple that coursed through the Jedi’s body whilst her nose touched against her amorous suitors’ once more and her smile grazed against his mouth for but a fraction of time -- only interrupted by the seconds it took to slide the fabric of her garment over her head--before modifying her approach to that of a more tempestuous nature.

**

Kiskla wasn’t sure what had stirred her. Something. Everything. She’d had worse wake ups, more destructive and sweaty in nature — this one was more random. As if a spiritual pine needle had decided to poke her slumbering ethereal state and indicate it was now time to wake up. It was that, coupled with her active mind. Yinchorr could really only last another handful of hours at the maximum, and she would have to return to the frazzled few that had returned from Teta. She’d already had a taste of the desperation, what with the political meetings and evacuation efforts, but truly couldn’t conceive the span of it. People’s emotions were uncontrolled, even as Jedi. And the reports, the accusatory reports — everyone would want someone, something — to blame. It’d likely be her. She had a merry band of supporters, she knew that, but in reality the youth was concerned that too many people relied on a single individual rather than relying on themselves. And that focus was on her. Kiskla’s body stirred as a reaction to the transition of awareness, and instantly felt the heat of another next to her. There were three pale moons for light, and they outlined her companion enough to bring a soft smile to her pronounced lips. They’d made those moons blush just hours earlier. Whether or not [member="Marcello Matteo"] was truly sleeping or not, or just lending himself to the Force’s serenity, she couldn’t determine. There was a definite veil of grogginess about her. She hadn't slept since Teta and relying on The Force had satiated her needs to rest enough. If was when Marcello opened all her senses she realized how sleepy she truly was. He looked blissful though, despite the weight he burdened on himself. In this unanticipated moment, he looked as though the weight were on anybody’s shoulders but his. And yet, he was still not vulnerable. With little effort, she shifted again. This time, resting her forehead against his cheek and nestling herself in just that little bit closer to the appropriate nooks. She pulled her arm from being squished between her side and his stomach, and attempted to slide it as gingerly as possible behind his neck and across his broad shoulders— successfully entrapping him in her wrap. She wasn’t even bothered that her toes were tapping on the edge of the cockpit.

At least she had socks on — that’d keep the ankle biters away. Fact.

It took her a few moments of..a couple more slight adjustments here and there to get totally comfortable enough to lend herself to the sandman once more. Kiskla was an only child, and used to not sharing such a close proximity — though she’d tried to keep her movements to a minimum, she couldn’t abstain entirely. She also couldn't prevent a whisper from tumbling from her tongue; it was mostly involuntary and very faint, but it existed. The tiny, drowsy voice that spoke into his stubble told him this: “I love you."

 

[Marcello Matteo]

Marcello most certainly was asleep. As was the nature of any interaction he had with [member="Kiskla Grayson"] since Ahto City, he was always left seemingly with a dangerously low-reserve of air from deepended breaths of desire and longing accompanied by the all-too-familiar feeling of true, pure exhaustion when their physical exploits reached their climax for the final time. Even as the female Jedi Master stirred next to him, the large Naboo native continued to sleep soundly. For once his thoughts were not on the struggles of life and what direction said life would take him. Instead he was, quite simply, content. In fact he had no dreams...his mind was as restful as his body appeared.

When Kiskla settled her body back in beside him once more, Marcello stirred only slightly. His eyes never opened, but he did adjust his body just a little closer against her own. If he heard her soft-spoken words, he gave no indication. In truth, Marcello thought he'd simply dreamed them, dreamed the pure bliss of simply being completely happy despite the reality of the galaxy and all those within.

------

A couple hours or so later, the Rogue Master's eyelids fluttered open slowly to reveal tired glacier-blue eyes. The sight he was immediately met with, of course, stayed his body from any further action or hurry to rise. Exhaling softlyy, he gently reached up a hand and tucked a single strand of blone hair behind Kiskla's ears. His thoughts drifted to earlier. In that moment, Marcello was completely happy, so he did his best not to move, to breathe too hard, or do anything that might cause the moment to shatter into reality.

The reality that he would have to leave her side all too soon. In the attempt to maintain the moment, he leaned ever so slightly to deposit a soft kiss to her forehead. A gesture that was as tender and loving as his emotions for the woman in his arms.