[OOC] Drabble

[organicmeatbag]

[Contains adult material and references though nothing graphic. Includes het and slash relations.]



I. Malak

They’re young and he coerced Malak into it. Cornered him, pinned him, when he knew there would be no escape, no chance to say no. He took advantage, he knows it; he knows he premeditated it, and the opportunity presented its self, after training and when they're alone, still coming down from the high, and he took it. But he initiated it with all the previous lingering touches, the over obvious and yet subtle suggestions; the touch here, the look there. It was obvious. So when he presses, and pins, Malak against the wall, Malak should have known. It’s not Revan’s fault if he didn’t.

II. Kreia

He grins and he thinks he has her by something he reads in her expression when she looks at him. She agrees to train him and she does. She teaches and he learns and when he’s done, she thinks he doesn’t tell her, but he does. He tells her in the way he lures her to his bed; he tells her in the way he, the lowly Apprentice, lures her, the older, wiser Master, to his bed. It might not be something he wanted, something he enjoyed, but it needed to be done, and in the morning, he leaves without word because he said enough.

III. The General

He told himself he’d never with anyone under his command, but he has their strings wrapped around his fingers and they fall in line so easily. He knows he’s drowning in the power of command, of being sucked in that much more, and it’s as intoxicating as her gaze. So when he has the chance, he takes it, and then she’s spread out on his bed, fingers curling into his hair as he licks and nips his way down. He’s drowning in her; reveling in the power he has at making her arch away from the sheets, making her moan, making her fingers tighten in his hair that much more. He feels his control slipping and he’s losing himself in it.

IV. Mission Vao

He tells himself it never happened with Mission, even while it occurs. There was drinking, and there was something close to Spice, and there was Mission seeming older than her years. They were wrapped around one another before he even knew what was happening. There are pazaak cards beneath them, the game forgotten, and he sweeps them away as he lays her down. He thinks he should take her to the bed, away from the cold metal floor, but that would make it real. And as he runs his fingers down her side, working the black shirt from her pants and fingers skimming the blue skin of her waist as he works it up, he decides he doesn’t want it to be real. He tells himself it never happened, even while his fingers continue their exploration.

V. Canderous Ordo

With Canderous, it’s hard and fast against the workbench while the others are out exploring. It burns and it hurts, but he needs it. His fingers scramble for purchase and the workbench shakes, sending tools clattering to the ground, and he’s pressed against it, edges digging into his chest with each thrust. It burns and it hurts, but he needs it. He thinks he hears footfalls coming up the ramp, thinks he senses Bastila approaching, and wonders, as he closes his eyes against another thrust, what she would think if she walked in now. And it burns and it hurts, but he needs it.

VI. Carth Onasi

It begins with another argument. Late at night, and it’s just the two of them, bickering back and forth about nothing and everything. It starts with him snapping at Carth, harsher than he means to, and then his back is against the control console, Carth’s hands fisted into the collar of his uniform. He’s not sure who reaches out first then, but there are hands roaming, fingers pulling and grasping and grabbing, and he can’t breathe. He can’t breathe as Carth moves against him, as he moves against Carth, and their hands are fumbling through the clothes, fumbling toward release. It ends with unsteady breaths and eyes not quite meeting as clothes are straightened and smoothed. Behind them, the console beeps alerting them of their planetary approach.