The Wicked and The Blind

[Chevu Visz]

The feeling of Gabriel’s fingers slowly moving along her knuckles, soaked into her skin and moved through her nervous system, awakening senses long repressed. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment as the man’s rich baritone echoed through the YT’s passenger area, his words as intoxicating as a rare spice. Between the release of adrenaline and the strong mead, Chevu’s inhibitions sifted away. She was dead tired of fighting her emotions, and was losing the battle. The Mirialan was innocent, but carnal curiosity crouched underneath the surface of it like an animal waiting to spring. She was still a red-blooded woman after all, even underneath the impassive Jedi facade.

“I don’t want to sleep,” she confessed with a shake of her head. The subtle crack in her voice mirrored the fragmenting of her resolve as she drew closer to him.

Obeying her body instead of her mind, Chevu leaned in to plant another kiss on Gabriel's waiting lips. It was only meant to be one, but as soon as her mouth met his, she found herself unable to stop. Leaning across the table, she lifted her hands up to rake through his long braided hair, fingers teasing. A shudder came as the hairs of his beard tickled her chin. Almost whimpering, angry at herself for losing her control, she kissed him fervently, even biting his lower lip. The next thing she knew, the Mirialan was peeling off her leather jacket, dropping it to the floor. She rose from her seat, crossing over to where he sat and climbing onto his lap, straddling him, a perfect position to spread emphatic kisses all along his neck.

 

[Reverance]

"I don't want to either..." He could barely get the words out before her lips met his once more. A bit peckish, he anticipated the draw away, the same as before. But there was a fire there, the same she wanted to start in the universe, a caution thrown to the wind. A mixture of exhaustion, of the mead and the charm and the unplanned events of the night, he wanted her and not in the way of his typical conquest. This wasn't an exchange of power, an exchange of pain for the feeling it gave. This felt foreign, true feeling instead of the concoction of it on the back of flesh stripped clean, wounds opened over and over again. He didn't hurt right now and the consequences of that scared him, if he could feel such an emotion. That a deal with a devil could be undone, he might see that devil knocking on his door once more. But for now, he didn't care.

As she pulled the jacket from her body, moving into his lap, his hands had long shifted from hers to grip the entirety of her body. The small of her back, he smiled as he she bit his lip, the invite as she ran her green fingers through his hair, disheveling it. Even the shudder across her skin in response to him, it was perceivable. And as much as he felt her now, he felt vicariously through her. His left hand would crawl gingerly up her body, fingers tantalizing across her flesh as he worked his way towards her throat. In different scenarios, that may have been his target, to end her. But now, he wanted far more than such finality could deliver. He wanted all of her - the idea that they existed on opposites sides of this war no longer occurred to him. And with a press of her jaw up, with his thumb, he pressed his teeth against the edge of her neck. A promise for a bite, such a thing turned into a kiss and breath, as his hands moved down to her hips and lifted.

As light as a feather, he turned her and sat her on the table as he stood. She still straddled him, but now he was merely standing, pulling her legs to close what distance may have been created by the move. As he leaned away, he grabbed the bottom of his shirt and lifted up, tossing the shirt away and across the space ship floor. Beneath, it was the same story he had told her at dinner. Raised edges of scars resulting from his life spent as a slave, intermixed with the tribal tattoos of his mothers Kiffar clan, she knew more about him from this one night than many did having known him for years. And from the fight in the alley way, he would give answer to the strength, a body cut from stone and serving the purpose he desired. But now, he had no concern for his body, only hers, as he leaned in to kiss her once more. And not the peckish sort. His body language would scream that he wanted her, but his eyes would whisper towards a need far surpassing that.

[member="Chevu Visz"]​

 

[Chevu Visz]

Gabriel lifted Chevu up and placed her on the table in front of him. His solid grip was electrifying and paralyzing all at once, and new sensations crossed the threshold of her body, weakening her resolve even further. If one could call it resolve. Other than some dry Jedi tenets drilled into her by her Sullustan master, she have much to begin with. Emotionally, Chevu was like a reed in the marsh, bending to the breezes, her identity unsorted. She wanted to save the galaxy from the Sith and help people less fortunate. But outside of that? Everything was murky.

As his shirt fell away, she dropped her gaze to the ruts in his skin and ran her fingers along them, searching them like braille. The tribal tattoos. Kiffar. Did he say that earlier over dinner or was she making an educated guess? She couldn’t remember; too drawn into his silver-blue eyes. She gratefully yielded to his kiss, hands moving around the wide tanned expanse of his back, nails digging in to make what would later be russet bruises. Her return kisses had evolved with her increasing desires, soft tongue slipping through the threshold of his lips. A wanton hand crept up to entangle with his hair and pull on his braid.

If she had any idea who her new lover actually was, what a creature of immense galactic power, the architect of untold atrocities, watching over an entire kingdom of iniquity with his single working eye, she would likely find herself unable to stand. But right now, unknowingly, the Mirialan’s lithe green body was as much his as the worlds he ruled.

[member="Reverance"]

 

[Reverance]

The skin stretched, the muscles flexed, in response to nails across raised edges. If she only knew the origin of some of these cuts, she could have gripped much harder. But he would take her in every heartbeat, every path a unique one that as much as he was accustomed, was nearly foreign. Since Sylvia, though that relationship had never been one of nearly pure lust. Not like this one, with every opportunity to mold to it's fitting, to becoming a different beast altogether. He smiled as she rummaged through his hair, returning the passion of her kiss with one of similar intensity, as his hands move down the edges of her torso. With fingers wrapped around fringes of her tank top, he lifted and interrupted the kiss for just a moment. Just long enough to relieve her of it.

He would drink in the athletic figure before him if he weren't so interested in something far more physical. Was the conquest over or had it just begun, had a path of deceit and manipulation gave way to a fork in the road. Leading to attachment, to a break in the solidarity of two figures pressed beneath the same crown. They were thoughts for another time, pillow talk for the mind, as he pulled her thighs and wrapped them with a strong grip. Lifting, he kicked the chairs out of his way, kissing the Mirialan as he carried her to the passenger and crew sleeping area. There were multiple beds and as he dug his nails gingerly into the back of her thighs, he decided that they didn't really need more than one.

Showing strength once more, holding up her weight with one hand and counter balancing her with the other, he placed her softly down on the bed, following the descent as their bodies coiled together. Mid kiss, he pulled away to playfully place his teeth against her upturned chin, fingers on idle and finding what best to do with their time.

And if she just knew he was, this might have never happened in the first place. A notion that would torment him if given the chance. But he was deeply embedded now, committed to the act of knowing and understanding her, beyond the words spoken over a dinner table and the lines of a palm read.

[member="Chevu Visz"]​

 

[Reverance]

Light cuts through the darkened funnel​

Flesh upturned, mind forever changed​

A blistering green and black sickle​

Until nothing is left, except regret​

And remorse remain​

​

What once was gone, suddenly repaved​

Cut down the seam, to wholes un-halved​

To the sound of fireworks and waves​

To that natural fade to black​

And everything changed​

​

~~~​

​

Cheeks flushed, Gabriel stared up at the ceiling of the small transporter ship. He couldn't kick free the feeling that he was different, that this Mirialan had taken his whole world and turned it over, shaking free any loose change that might jingle. The main difference being that who laid here, next to her beneath the sheets, was the change bouncing against the floor. He breathed a sigh of freedom, knowing that the power relinquished by Reverance, somewhere between the alley way and the dinning room, was only temporary. Soon enough, the touch of flesh and overbearing kindness wouldn't be enough to keep him in place, corporeal and with form. Cast back adrift into the see of his own mind, heinous actions painted across the darkened horizon through bolts of lightning in still frame, he dreaded leaving.

But even more so, he dreaded the idea that Reverance might come to and his world be righted once more. It felt right at this tilt, it felt hopeful. And the transition from the landscape of pain and demonizing acts to ones of kindness and tenderness, it was something that aspired foresight. That in this long dark tunnel he walked, somber and without control, there might be light at the end. And it came in the form of Chevu. As much a likely hero for the Alliance as an unlikely hero for Gabriel. He placed a kiss across her hair line as he held her close, tumbling through his own thoughts, rocked back and forth by the chop. It was peaceful but a storm would come and ruin that. It always did.

[member="Chevu Visz"]​