Ask Two Sith In A Kitchen

[Drane T'keen]

Spoiler: Music IC

Drane shrugged off the comment. Had to keep up his nonchalance. Besides, he figured it was better to be worse at cooking than it was being worse at kissing.

Typically his sweet kisses with women rewarded him with their sweet cooking. Or is it the other way around? It was something anyhow.

“Ah, yes. The egg.” Having licked whipped cream from his finger, he wiped the saliva off his eggy apron. “Probably has something to do with the egg that missed your apron.” He blinked. “More or less.”

Right. Playtime’s over. For the moment. They played the other game.

“Back to work then!”

Drane clapped his hands and navigated his way near Cheriss’ side if for no other reason than her being nearby his quarry.

His stroll ended up at a bowl when he promptly popped and gnawed on a very tasty strawberry. It was, after all, an ingredient of their delicious if disastrous recipe.

Cheriss cracked another cracker like an egg again. So precious. Even a Sith shouldn't let the anger get the better of her.

"Try this. It should take your mind off of...what was it? Ah yes. A kiss."

-FLICK!-

Hopefully she caught it in her fist. Though, to be honest, he actually wanted to watch the strawberry land between her teeth where he was aiming. That would be delicious.

@Sicadorito (@Cheriss Ktrame)

 

[Cheriss Ktrame]

When Drane brought up the egg again, Cheriss decided to ignore it for the sake of her outfit. If they got into another fight, she didn’t want to end up splattered with the mixture of cream cheese and egg or having a bucket of water dunked on her head. Even if Drane would get the same treatment back, she didn’t want to have to ruin her look in the process.

“Finally.” Cheriss rolled her eyes, crushing another graham cracker. She was just about to reach for a third when she felt his presence at her side. She smelled strawberry. Of course he’s eating again. Pausing what she was doing, she closed her eyes for a moment to collect herself. She gritted her teeth, planting her palms flat on the surface of the table.

“Try what? I already told you—” But then she saw a half-eaten strawberry flying directly at her face, which shut her up mid-sentence as it landed right between her teeth where he’d intended.

Colorful language she hadn’t used or heard since her childhood with the gangsters on Corellia ran through her head before she spit the strawberry onto the floor. Unfortunately, the only thing that escaped her lips after that was “EW!”

Less than a second after that though, she was onto him again. Grabbing him by the front of his apron, she would attempt to turn him around, throw him down, and pin him against the side of the table.

“You are horrible. Disgusting. Vile! Go to hell, you bastard.” Then she slapped him again.

@Die Shize

 

[Drane T'keen]

Drane cocked a brow, half-expecting his target to actually enjoy his little trick about a half-eaten strawberry between her teeth. Maybe he just appreciated sweet juicy fruit more than she did given her “EW!”

“No, no, don’t spit it—”

Cheriss was on him the next second.
She was quick and he was distracted.
Too late for Drane, given momentum.
Her inertia ended up with him pinned.

The Sith began to wonder what exactly was this other Sith’s intention.

“Horrible, disgusting, vile and a bastard?”

Drane shook his head, in part because of the slap across his face.

“Oof!”

This certainly wouldn’t be the first time that a woman has slapped him too.
Then again he felt like he was in the position to expect a spank over a slap.

“Or do you mean a horrible disgusting vile bastard?”

Was there even a difference? Better not put it past him.

Given Cheriss’ apparent obsession with slapping things he expected her to lift her hand again, which would serve his efforts, but wouldn’t matter.

Either way, Drane immediately twisted beneath Cheriss’ grip, redirecting her own weight into keeping him pinned to pin her instead of him.

“Time for a taste of your own medicine.”

-SLAP!-

Only he was a gentleman. So he didn’t aim for her face. He aimed for her ass.

@Sicadorito (@Cheriss Ktrame)

 

[Cheriss Ktrame]

“BOTH!” She didn’t even remember what she’d said or made sense of what he said, but at the moment Drane was every negative adjective she could think of. Having him pinned to the counter was satisfying, and the slap was satisfying enough too that she considered letting him go. But she didn’t. First the egg and now the strawberry, this Sith needed a time out.

Until he caught her by surprise and twisted her around instead, pinning her instead.

Then he slapped her. Right there. Blood rushed to her face, turning her cheeks as red as her shirt. Adrenaline gave her strength. This time using his weight against him, she reversed the situation again until they were face to face, his back against the counter. She leaned in, her lips grazing his ear.

“Never do that again.” Her voice was surprisingly calm, nearly a whisper. “I mean it.” She removed her hands from his wrists, pressed them against his shoulders, and kissed him.

@Die Shize

 

[Drane T'keen]

Spoiler: Music IC

In retrospect, perhaps it wasn’t the choicest music for a couple of Sith. Sith couple? It isn't but whatever this is. Then again, despite the power at a Sith’s fingertips, Drane couldn’t control the waves of the universe.

He didn’t have the power of Raze, of Sidious, of Tempest, of Vader, but he'd worry about acquiring Sith alchemy later.

The music that played was simply the song that came over the stereo. But it wasn’t what Drane heard. He didn’t listen to the radio at that moment. He listened to the waves of the ocean that flowed between a Sith and a Sith and that was it.

What flowed? Blood, apparently. Though, who knew that Cheriss’ pale pink cheeks could turn so rosy? Speaking of which, her other cheeks were probably just as red that moment. Oh, he hadn't been so vicious, he wasn’t that wicked, but his hand had been as quick and violent and needed.

As expected, she resisted, but against him? No, against him. Inches away from his face. Backing him away. Back against the counter. She whispers…breathes into his ear with her lips…and that’s a whole other kind of kiss.

Breath as warm as blood is hot. Caught in a swarm of emotions like a storm trapped in an ocean. Frustration. Anger. Ktrame. Drane. None of this mattered anyway.

“Never do that again.”
“I won’t.”
“I mean it.”
“I know.”

But the moment she removed her hands from his wrists, his hands were open. Hers rested on his shoulders as his slipped to her waist, gripped her hips, fingers pressing in as their lips did. Drane wouldn’t break away from this kiss unless Cheriss did. Even then, his eyes wouldn’t. His gaze wouldn’t break.

@Sicadorito (@Cheriss Ktrame)

 

[Cheriss Ktrame]

Cheriss could hear the blood in her ears. The pounding, too. But this was no headache, rather the opposite of one. Whether it existed or not, it did for her right now, and it felt good.

Desire. Something she hadn’t felt in a long, long time. Surprising, maybe, given how most people seemed to see her. She saw it in their eyes. But she didn’t care. What mattered was the here and now. Right now she hated him as much as she loved him. Despised every inch of him as much as she wanted him.

“Drane…” She pulled away from the kiss, gazing into those golden slits of his. So treacherous. So beautiful. His hands were still around her waist. They were firm. She liked that. She wanted nothing more than to stay like this forever.

But she knew it wouldn’t last. They were Sith.

“I…” She didn’t even know what she was trying to say. Never mind. It didn’t matter, anyway. One hand went through his hair. Down his cheek. So soft. Like me. She was getting soft. She knew it. She saw it happening right here, right now.

So, even if it pained her, Cheriss pulled away. Took his hands off her, albeit gently. Then backed away.

“I’m sorry.” Were those tears in the back of her eyes? She didn’t cry. She never cried. “I can’t.”

@Die Shize

 

[Drane T'keen]

Spoiler: Music IC

Cheriss. Drane didn’t say her name as she said his name. Not out loud. Not even when she pulled away. Not even when, tempted though he was to wrap his arms around her, to pull her back into his grip, into his kiss, and maybe never let go from one moment to the next, he let her slip.

If the music shifted again, it wouldn’t even matter. He wouldn’t hear it. He wouldn’t listen. Except he did. To instruments. Guitar strings and violin strings. A woman singing. To her lyrics. He didn’t know who Annabel was. He didn’t know if Cheriss would damn him to hell for what he did.

Yet, just as he promised, his gaze did not break. No, his eyes never wavered. Gold irises, black pupils, into brown eyes, black circles just like his. He didn’t blink. His eyes could sting, as if opened for too long, or hammered by the droplets of an ocean, by blades of rain, as calm as violent like a storm on a pond, but wouldn't look away.

Was that Drane? A man of fine taste, he liked to say, so composed in a restaurant, with the finest wine, sipping to the richest art, but a man who could take heads apart with his blade all the same. Either way, his grin would never fade. Even if this moment did, if this little lie, this pathetic fallacy, slips from his grip, it was their moment, their scenario, their fantasy.

And it was totally worth it.

He didn’t even know what he was trying to think. Of all the women he had been with, he had been with so few, really, hadn’t he? Maybe it was because he was Sith. Maybe it was because she was Sith. Maybe that’s why she had done this to him. Maybe that’s why they didn’t, couldn’t, go through with this.

“I…”
You.

No dog, no puppy, but Drane craned his neck all the same as Cheriss’ fingers slipped through his mane, down his face, made him tighten his grip on her waist, her hip, determined to give in all over again.

“I’m sorry.”
I’m not.

“I can’t.”
I can.

She backed away.
He stepped closer.
Drane did not miss it.
A black tear on Cheriss.

Like she did, he leaned in as if to kiss, but, no, he stroked a finger down her face, as if to wipe away a tear that didn’t even exist.

“It was a nice idea, though, wasn’t it, Cheriss?”

A good dream. A great escape.

An image that only two Sith may paint.

A pretty thing. Only inches away.

“Not so atrocious. No…it was...a good kiss…”

@Sicadorito (@Cheriss Ktrame)

 

[Cheriss Ktrame]

She stepped back. He stepped closer. Their eyes locked, and though no tears fell, they might as well have. No, Drane. Don’t do it. She couldn’t say it aloud, though, as much as she wanted to. As much as she didn’t want to. She closed her eyes and shifted her head away when he stroked her face, for once unable to meet his gaze.

How she wanted him.

That just proved everyone else right, didn’t it? Whore. Bitch. HARLOT. Like that Lemon girl had called her. Oh, it meant nothing to her. She was loved, she saw it the minute that boy had looked at her. But Cheriss remembered those words. The same ones those Corellian gangsters had called her as a girl. Each one was a drop. A black tear. Filling her up until one almost escaped. Almost.

But it stayed inside. Dried up. Evaporated. Vanished. Sith did not allow these things to linger for long.

“It was,” she answered quietly. Her gaze was on the floor, at the remaining half of the strawberry. “Not so atrocious.” She echoed him. Not at all. She almost smiled again at the memory that she wanted to forget.

Cheriss forced herself to look at him, at Drane. Like temptation come to life. A living statue.

“Such a bastard.” This time there was no venom in her whispered words.

@Die Shize

 

[Drane T'keen]

Spoiler: Music IC

Eggy. Sticky. Icky. Dirty. Yet they had already forgotten about their grime. The yolk. The water. The strawberry. The cream cheese.

Cheesy, maybe, like listening to music’s lyrics as if they were on Drane’s very own lips, or thinking how much more delicious are the lips of Cheriss Ktrame in comparison to strawberry and cream cheese.

Drane would know. He had already tasted them. Oh, how he wanted to do so all over again.

Like him, she offered a silent purr, like a cat, craning her neck to the gentle touch of her master. Like a tiger tilting its head to the warmth of the sun.

Drane would know. A lion with a mane. Black Swordsman, yes, but a red warrior, Thyrsian, a son of the red sun.

How he wanted her.

She echoed him. Echoes in the wind. Whistling in the darkness? She was afraid, maybe, but fear was theirs, it was strength, not weakness. They were Sith. This was supposed to revive scary memories, maybe, if that’s what this is. It is for him.

The Thyrsian. The one who lost what was his. The one who claimed his vengeance.

And he would do it all over again.

“Such a bastard.”
She whispered.
Such emotion.
But no venom.

“You don’t know the half of me, Cheriss.”

He promised, didn’t grin, wasn’t sarcastic, isn’t teasing.

His finger on her cheek, pale and pink, creeps into a hand, cradles the side of her face, thumb grazing that soft skin, and he has no intention of seeing the flesh beneath. There were other ways to peel back the layers of a woman like Cheriss. That wasn’t limited to just lips.

“You don’t know what’s beneath the surface of this bastard…”

She isn’t her.
Says a voice.
No. She burned.
A voice from a void.

Bastard, she called him.

“Now whisper with your lips, you vicious Sith bitch.”

Oh, how he hoped to see those chocolate seas explode with emotion, as Drane thrust his lips upon Cheriss' lips yet again, to taste her all over again, just one more time, for one more moment…

@Sicadorito (@Cheriss Ktrame)

 

[Cheriss Ktrame]

Drane had no grin now.

Still, Cheriss looked into his eyes as he spoke, leaned into his hand even if she didn’t want to. Maybe she could give up being a Sith for today, to be a woman and nothing more. And Drane… She saw the fire in his eyes, the desire. The cold flames that burned so hot. Just this once.

He was right. She didn’t know what was beneath the surface of this bastard. Oh, but I do want to find out. She leaned in when he did, ready to give in.

But that last word. That one stuck. Just one more drop.

She froze. Something lodged in her throat. Something else slid down her cheek.

His lips would never reach hers. During that split second, both her hands were outstretched, one foot in front of the other, as she sent a Force push directly into Drane’s chest to send him flying backwards.

“You’re just like them.” The tears were flowing freely now as she backed away. As far away as she could. Until she hit something. “God, you’re all the same.” Even Drane. Even her perfect statue. M’dear Drane. Cheriss felt her knees give way, and she slumped to the ground, her back against some cabinet.

I’m so stupid. I’m so kriffing stupid. She never should have trusted him. Given in to him. Like some dog. Like some bitch.

A vicious Sith bitch, to be exact. That’s all I am to him. To them all. She began to sob. It was all going down, down, down… everything was all wrong. Drane had pushed her over and there was no bottom as she fell.

“You’re all… the same…” With nowhere else to hide, she buried her hands in her hair as she wept.

@Die Shize

 

[Drane T'keen]

Spoiler: Music IC (Recurring)

There it is.

There it is!

He didn’t resist.
It was expected.
As was the kiss.
And so it begins.
For the two Sith.
Drane...Cheriss...

The Thyrsian flew backward, struck another counter, but he didn’t give into anger. Not above the surface. Not beneath it. That wasn’t his purpose. It wasn’t his intention to give into rage despite the pain in his own flesh. In his own spirit.

It wasn’t even his intention to enrage Cheriss. Then again, wasn't it? Yes…what were they again? Oh. That’s right. Sith. Uninhibited by restricted emotions. Sith felt feeling. For them, there were no restrictions. Only risks.

A bastard...
And a bitch.

“You’re just like them.”
“This again?”

You made her cry.
Right. This is fine.

“God, you’re all the same.”
“So you say?”

Look at her.
She burns...

Tears like twisting rivulets down her cheeks. Crying. A woman. A little girl, more like.

His back against a counter.
Her back against a cabinet.

You’re a monster.
I am a Sith. Bitch.

He left his counter. Expressionless. Nothing on his charcoal countenance. Only darkness.
Not sympathetic. Not sadistic. Nothingness.
Stepped closer. Toward Cheriss.

“Look at you.”

Closer.

“You call yourself a Sith, Cheriss?”

Closer.

“Is this what a kriffing Sith really is?”

CLOSER.

“Is this the mighty Cheriss the Champion?”

CLOSER.

“...Pathetic…”

A few feet away. No. Inches. Away from her face.

She’s on her knees. And so is he.
He didn’t put her there. Not really.
You don’t put me there. Not really.
He’s on his knees. And so is she.

“Cheriss…”
Drane whispered across the inches, searching for her gaze.
With his golden irises, black pupils, like oil, ready to blaze.
“Pathetic…”

He doesn’t wait.

Finger beneath her chin, he lifts it, and whispers into her skin.

“Is that what they say, Cheriss? Is that what they claim? The shitheads of your past? Because…”

Yet again, as before, he opened that door, didn’t matter what she did, what she does. Thumb grazes the tears on her face, cradles it, like he cradled her on the table, and she cradled him, because to a Sith isn’t that what being pinned is?

Ridiculous. But he doesn’t grin.

“...I say to hell with them… They are pathetic… Yes...I might be a bastard…”

Insidious. And he grins.

“But you’re no bitch.”

And he kissed her. Only it’s different. Because he breathed. In. Out. Heavily.

Passionately.

And this time, she’d need more than a Force Push or tabletop to get him off.

@Sicadorito (@Cheriss Ktrame)

 

[Cheriss Ktrame]

Pathetic. He wasn’t wrong given her current state. Having ripped out her hair tie in the process, her hair fell down to her shoulders, stuck to her face wet with tears, the rest stuck up or stayed bundled in her hands. It left her looking as unkempt as a street rat. That was where she’d come from, anyway. Gone was the proud, poised Sith that was Cheriss the Champion. She had reverted back into what she was.

All those years of training, plotting, Sithing, for nothing.

So Drane was right. Pathetic. She didn’t even have it in her to be mad at him anymore. Her hands fell to her sides.

She felt him looking at her. Studying her face. She felt a finger under her chin. It was warm. She heard him whisper.

That they were pathetic.
That she was no bitch.

Cheriss looked up, saw his grin. He had that look in his golden eyes, but this time it was different. Fire, yes, but more passionate. She didn’t fight him as he kissed her again, this time far less gentle than the first. But she welcomed it. Despite everything, she still wanted him. He wanted her. She could feel it as he put his weight into this kiss.

Oh…

Some strength returned. This time though, she didn’t use it to push him away, to slap him, none of that. She put her arms over his shoulders, wrapped them around his neck, and pulled him closer.

I love you, Drane…

Cheriss the Champion didn’t love anyone. But maybe Cheriss the Woman could.

@Die Shize

 

[Drane T'keen]

Spoiler: Music IC

Her hair had been, not so done up, loosely bundled in that bun, but now it wasn’t. Now it was free. Hair down to her shoulders. Hand on her face, cradling it, thumb on chin and palming her cheek, stained where she weeps, his other fingers were free as they felt her hair. Long locks, as chocolate as her eyes, curled into his fingers, gently tugging her into his kiss, and her hair felt like waves if the piano may create them the same way.

His grip was firm, his grip was gentle, but his kiss was anything but. He tugged. And she tugged him into her. Passion. Passion. It crept along his skin like goosebumps, frozen over, yet hot to the touch. His eyes were open once. So were hers. Maybe they still were but he wouldn’t see. He would only see blood, his own rushing, and see with his senses.

Damn the mundanes for being that way. They couldn’t escape it, granted, weren't Force-sensitive, but they could not enjoy an experience like this. Could not really sense the moment. The emotion. Two eyes closed, his third eye is open. He can see her. He can feel her. As surely as Cheriss Ktrame was naked, Drane T’keen can hear her heart beat as much as see it, pounding against his ribcage.

Silence. They’re quiet. But blood pumps faster, harder, stronger, louder. Her arms wrap around his neck, his shoulders, pulling him into her, but he already knew she wanted to. That she wanted this as much as he did. He didn’t need to be pushy. Didn’t need to push. Didn’t need to tease. This was their moment, this was their ocean, this was their island.

Her back against the cabinet, her legs on the floor, she doesn’t fight anymore, but gives in, to weakness, to strength. With him pressing against her, she’s pinned, and he’s got her right where he wanted her. She knows it. They both know what can happen the next moment. And who are they to deny their nature, their darkness, as Sith as much as a man and a woman alone in a kitchen?

Cheriss…

Love. Lust. Whatever this was, Drane is just feeling it, going with the flow, and to hell with knowledge, to hell with caution.

Damn it all to hell.

Fingers in hair, at the base of her neck, hand slides to the back of it, to the side, squeezing it, but not so as to choke her throat. To unleash her moans. She breathes into his mouth, from the nose, fighting for every breath, determined not to break the kiss. His other hand slides up her cheek, a lone finger curving over that eyebrow sharp as a scimitar, fingers drumming atop her head to cradle her skull. Bold. Bolder.

“Cheriss…”

Drane breaks away, not his hands, but his lips, simply to breathe. Inches away from her face, eyes open, burning into hers with his golden irises that suddenly become as liquid. He isn’t crying, not like her, no, he’s eating her tears. He’s feeding on her fears, but not for malice, not for madness.

I’ll take your pain away, my lady. I’ll take you any day, baby.

“Let those bastards burn, Cheriss,” he whispered. “Focus on the moment. On me. On the music. Not on your memories. Focus on what burns.” His hand slid from her neck to her chest, between her breasts, where the blood of her heart burns. “Nothing else matters.”

 

[Cheriss Ktrame]

His one hand felt gentle, so light on her cheek, while his other tugged on her hair. Backed against the cabinet and at the mercy of Drane’s embrace, Cheriss had nowhere to go but here. Nor did she want to be anywhere but here. As his hand slowly slid down from her face to her neck, hers went up, curling her fingers through his mane and pulling him ever closer. She closed her eyes. They were tired.

Though, the rest of her was not. Her heart thudded and she felt herself stiffen as his chest pressed against hers. She couldn’t remember the last man she’d let get this close, but it didn’t really matter in the end. Right now, she was Drane’s. He was hers. Even if they were Sith, that darkness was part of them, it didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered aside from her and Drane.

He squeezed her neck, and she only held onto him tighter. “Oh.” She breathed in through her nose, smelled strawberry on his breath. Cheriss wanted to taste him again, and so she did, pressing her lips up to his again. It was only when he broke away that she did too, just to breathe, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath again.

As his hands cradled her face again and he whispered words into her ear, Cheriss found herself nodding. The smallest of nods, but what he said went further than she would show. They had burned. She’d made sure of that. She could see it clear as day. But now they were dead and gone, and Drane was here and alive. Nothing else matters. His words echoed in her mind. She opened her eyes again, felt his hand burning against her chest.

She placed one of her own on top of his, meeting his gaze. His eyes looked like pools now, like magma. There was fire in them both, she could feel it. It burned.

“I know.” Her voice was quiet, but she felt more free now than she ever had before. She didn’t break her gaze once as her other hand slid down the back of his neck toward the knot in his apron. With a wave of that hand and a bit of help from the Force, Drane’s apron loosened and fell between them. Removing her other hand from his, Cheriss would grip onto his shoulders to help her straighten up a little more, pressing against him as he’d done with her. Now they were equals.

“I need you, Drane.” Her fingers gripped tighter as she leaned in closer, pressing her forehead against his. “I love you.” Spoken in lust or love, she didn’t know, but it didn’t matter. Cheriss kissed him again.

@Die Shize

 

[Drane T'keen]

What he said meant nothing in the end, little and less. His words weren't hollow but wouldn’t show. They might curve within her, they might even burn her, but they were worthless. It’s what he did that mattered. If nothing else mattered, then his actions did, and he had proven this. Was proving it.

With each kiss, with each touch on her lips, on her skin, with the heat emanating between them, from Drane’s strawberry whispers to Cheriss’ cherry lips. They tasted delicious, and it was all the man could do to keep himself from eating them. He was already swallowing her moans.

Already pressing his hands into her chest, feeling the fabric of her garments, the curvature of her skeleton, the hardness of her bone amid her soft flesh. Truly, if his eyes were like black seas, golden sunlight trapped within the pit, within the void, they were lit like oil, and burned like the blade of a black lightsaber. His. Into hers.

She said she knew, she whispered it like he did, her words like echoes, so close, but she knew nothing. You know nothing, Cheriss. He wasn't being telepathic but he would prove it. Whatever she had experienced, before or after she became a Sith, Drane had experienced, he had lived, he had lusted, and he had loved.

Drane T’keen had dressed himself in the uniform of the warrior once, as a son of the red sun, and later in the attire of the Sith, in black and gold trimming like his irises. Now, as the man inside him undressed this woman inside out, as his fingers tickled her neck, caressed her head, her hair like a cushion as much as her breasts, she was beginning to undress him.

Damn. He had to admit it, he liked that apron with the egg on it. Yet it wouldn’t serve her purposes so it loosened, it slipped, as her slender fingers gripped his shoulders, and her forehead kissed his.

I love you. He had said as much to his woman once, but they were kids then, back on Thyrsus, and she was taken from T’keen. What was he today? Who was Drane? In this moment. In this kitchen.

I need you. Did she? Does Cheriss? Need him? Or is she just desperate? Does she just need comfort as her emotions explode, like that ocean within her, like that rush of blood? Whatever, kriff it, he’d simply give in right beside Cheriss in this kitchen with two Sith in it.

Resting his head against hers, strands of black grey hair tangled with her brown locks, they nudged each other, brushed their noses like two critters who had finally come together after so long a search.

Heads tilted again, lips pressed again, but he wasn’t so violent again. He moved slowly, to the notes of the piano, and let the man’s lyrics serve as the words he could not give, for Drane could only kiss Cheriss, he could only give her his burning passion, the heat of his skin, and she would give him hers. He made sure of it.

She had no apron, but she had egg on her shirt, and that would not serve his purposes. She had leggings, tight around those shapely womanly legs, but they were spent. Her shirt was first. Around the edges, around the waist, fingers dipping beneath, lifting, showing the skin of her belly.

“Then show me,” Drane whispered. “Show me that you need me....Cheriss..."

@Sicadorito (@Cheriss Ktrame)

 

[Cheriss Ktrame]

Cheriss had never craved anything so much as the touch of Drane’s hands. Each careless brush, each tender caress, and each gentle squeeze made her feel like she was in heaven. Did heaven exist for Sith? She didn’t have time to think about it. He and strawberries were all that were on her mind, and if there was a heaven, this was it.

She inhaled the scent of him, glad that his apron was out of the way. A hand slipped from Drane’s shoulder to his upper arm, holding on to the hard muscle underneath. Last time they’d met he’d been using them against her, but today… she was glad that she was on his mind rather than the Killiks.

At the touch of his skin on her waist again, this time slower but just as firm, Cheriss stiffened again. He whispered, asking for more. His fingers dipped beneath her shirt, and she shivered. Kriff it. She had nothing to lose.

Taking her hands off him for just a moment, she pulled her egg-stained shirt off over her head in one fluid motion before leaning back into the kiss, letting it drop onto the floor. The air was cold on her bare skin, so Cheriss pulled him close. But those hard buttons of his seemed to get in the way, stealing the heat that should have been hers.

“You too,” she whispered back, looking up at him. His eyes were as shiny as ever. She tugged on his collar, her fingers undoing the topmost button. Slowly but surely, she would work her way down his pristine white button-up unless he stopped her or decided to help, but whatever the result Cheriss would press herself against him afterwards, drinking in his scent and his charcoal strawberry lips. Drane was better than any wine she’d ever tasted.

@Die Shize

 

[Drane T'keen]

Spoiler: Music IC

Maybe it was fate. Or the purest of coincidence. Or simply nonsense. Maybe the radio station simply changed, as if the stations themselves were on shuffle as much as a playlist, or it was random selection, like evolution, like Jedi evolving into Sith, and damn the former for thinking the latter were a curse or some perversion of the Force.

Was this perverse? What they were doing to each other? Right now? Right, how had it begun again? Of course. Through the door and into the kitchen, for whatever purpose. Their reasons for being here to begin with had not yet been discussed.

Yet discussion was out of the question at the moment. No, those lips weren’t made for speaking. Those tongues weren’t made for talking. Those teeth weren’t made for discussing. They were made for kissing, for licking, for biting.

His apron was off, yet her shirt was off first. He breathed heavily at the sight of her bare skin. His heart beat rapidly at how smooth it was beneath his fingers, and they were not at all shy about touching her, feeling the curvature of her sides, the warmth of her abdomen, belly button, up her navel, eyes glued to her bra. Red. Of course it was red.

His buttons came off. Too slow. Drane decided to help Cheriss by popping those buttons off. Show me, he'd beckoned her. You too, she whispered. Yet his response was silent. No, just different. It didn’t come in the form of words. It came with two hands as he suddenly sprung from the ground, gripped her hips, lifted her with him, pressed her against the counter, and kissed her.

On her chest, up her collarbone, the crook of her neck, gently pinching her skin between his teeth to her cheek, to rediscover her lips, and savor every moment of this, whatever it is.

@Sicadorito (@Cheriss Ktrame)

 

[Cheriss Ktrame]

It was only when she was in the middle of undoing Drane’s buttons that Cheriss finally began to notice the music. It had been there all along, playing in the background since the very minute they came in. She hadn’t paid it much attention. Even as a girl, she’d found it more of a nuisance than something to be appreciated. Today though, as the melody swelled, it almost felt pleasant.

Cheriss heard Drane’s breathing get heavier as his explored her skin, and so did hers the rest of the buttons came undone and she removed his shirt. She pressed one hand against his bare chest, the other caressing his shoulder. Her grip tightened along with his when he grabbed her waist, and she gasped as he suddenly lifted her up and felt the cold of the metal counter against her back.

Then she felt his lips on her skin, followed by his teeth. Cold burned. But so did heat. He could burn her alive any day. Oh, Drane. Cheriss moved one hand so that it cradled his cheek as his gentle bites moved up, up. Her other was tangled in his hair, and when he finally reached her face, she pulled his head close and kissed him at the top.

Sith they were, ruthless and violent was their maxim. Not so much now, though. Where furious passion had been, a warm and steady flame burned instead. Gentle yet firm, Cheriss tilted her head and pressed her lips against Drane’s. There was nothing in her way now. There was no need to fight.

She ran her fingers from his navel up the middle of his chest. His heat was hers. Even the counter didn’t feel so cold anymore. Her hand rested on his heart, feeling it beat beneath his ribs. Once she would have crushed it. She’d done it before, with a Ranger out the door. It was a kind of sadistic pleasure. There was none of that today, though, and she was content listening to it. Just like the music. Beautiful, just like him. She closed her eyes, her lips still pressed against his, and savored it all.

@Die Shize

 

[Drane T'keen]

In reality, they knew nothing. They did not know what would result from this engagement, this adventure, this mindless pointless endeavor to make pastries in the kitchen. Beyond these four walls, their shared space and time, he knew nothing, she knew nothing.

They knew only the moment. They knew only where one second would lead, what could and would happen the next minute, whether it should or shouldn’t. That was the limit of Drane T’keen’s attention. That was as far as his focus was permitted. Then he stopped thinking. He only focused on feeling.

The skin of Cheriss, her crimsons lips, flesh bared at her stomach, around her chest, breasts hidden by that thin scarlet garment that teased his fingers as they surfaced its fabric. That’s what he knew. And if this was a fantasy they were living, if those walls would fall and reality would reclaim these two Sith in a kitchen, so be it, but kriff it, it hadn’t yet happened, had it?

So Drane carried away, carried Cheriss away, but not far. Those muscles in his arms flexed, his hands gripped her hips again, digging into her body beneath those stretchy and stupidly sexy leggings, and he lifted her, shifted her upward, sat her on the counter, a leg on either side of his hips.

Breathing between kissing. Every part of Drane’s body was beating, from his heartbeat to beneath, with her fingers caressing his skin, his chest, his stomach, beckoning him in. Caressing her low to high, squeezing her between her hip and backside, his other hand did what she did to him as it slid through her hair, loose and lazy at her shoulders, drawing it away from her face as his thumb grazed her forehead and his tongue slid between her lips to taste her within.

Heat emanated between them. Heartbeats resonated. Cheriss would feel Drane pressing against her, tempting her to wrap those legs around him, to lock him in a teasing embrace, taunting, and he would let her if she let him. There in their room, to the quiet, to the music, in their kitchen.

@Sicadorito (@Cheriss Ktrame)

 

[Cheriss Ktrame]

Pain, pleasure, love, and lust, Cheriss felt it all. She didn’t mind that Drane was picking her apart, didn’t know if he knew that he was, both inside and out. She knew nothing. He knew nothing. All she felt was that this was the best gift she had ever been given. If today was only a delusion, maybe living a lie wasn’t so bad after all.

His grip tightened and he lifted her up again by the hips, placing her on the counter. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, keeping him close and herself steady. Her arms clung to his upper torso as if in an embrace but moved up to cradle his neck and face as he continued to tease her. She just wanted to hear him breathe, to feel his heat. Then he drew her in closer until they met in yet another kiss.

She’d almost forgotten how delicious he was. His lips, mouth, and tongue tasted better than any cinnamon strawberry cheesecake they could ever make. At a more level height now, Cheriss didn’t have to tilt her head up so much anymore. She cupped a hand on his cheek as her other pressed into his upper arm, bringing him in as her legs tightened around him.

Cheriss only pulled away once, to breathe and to take him in again with her eyes. He looked exquisite. The way his mane had been ruffled from how much she’d been tugging on it, the way his eyes shone upon seeing her, it almost made her feel like she was melting inside. He was her god. Her god of small things.

She moved in again, slowly moving up as she pressed her lips against his chin, his cheek, his temple, and his forehead. Worshipping him. With each kiss, she found herself clinging to him more. His warm breath on her neck and chest only made her own breathing heavier, and Cheriss closed her eyes as she took it all in and accepted it. The music, his touch, the firmness of his skin against her lips, she took it all.

@Die Shize