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Months had passed since Zaloriis.
With a number of jobs and worlds since Gorse, the memories of the planet and the first place that had felt like home in years were finally releasing its grip. The news of the destruction of Cynda and just knowing that Okadiah was gone made truly letting the planet go easier. There was only one thing he wouldn’t let go of.
Only one person.
Perhaps that’s why he’d taken to seeking out worlds where whispers of resistance against the Empire seemed the loudest. Perhaps he’d only gone to the worlds to avoid the Empire, to avoid taking jobs that somehow involved him working against whatever Hera thought she could do. Months of following that path had only come up dry, though.
Kanan had long given up hope of that third time that they’d teased each other with.
The Force and the galaxy weren’t that benevolent.
Despite knowing that, he’d come to Garel because of the loud rumbles of dissidence against the Empire. There were a handful of fools that were loud in their protestations of the Empire’s tactics. He’d seen enough of them hauled out of the cantina where he worked, stormtroopers loudly accusing them of sedition, in the weeks since he’d come to the planet. There were others though, frequenters who seemed to speak in code that most people wouldn’t take the time to understand. Those people were more subtle and seemingly more organized.
They seemed like the type of people that would draw Hera’s attention.
Maybe that’s why he’d stayed for so long.
Kanan drew his thoughts away from a group gathered in the corner, quietly passing something under the table, and looked up to the chronometer. He tossed back the rest of the bottle that he’d been working on and cracked open another before announcing the crowd that had reached the point of inebriation that most of them were quiet rather than loud. “Last call, fools. Pay up your tabs and get the hell out.”
His charismatic sarcasm earned a collective laugh from his crowd. They were definitely a different sort of people from the suicide flyers and roughnecks that he’d grown used to on other worlds.
From the corner of his eyes, he could feel the gaze of a blue skinned Twi’lek who’d made more than one advance at him throughout the evening. While Kanan certainly hadn’t denied himself the meaningless fling when it suited him and though he considered himself an equal opportunity lover, he’d found little interest in the Twi’lek’s attempt to lure him in.
With a gentle grin and the playfulness that had earned him a rather generous tip from the woman after he cleared out her tab, Kanan gave her a wink. Perhaps it was leading her on but he considered it good business practices. “I hope you come here often,” he said, lowering his voice.
The woman smiled impishly at him. “I could make a habit of it.”
Kanan leaned into the bar but not close enough that she could reach out to touch him. “Then I hope to see you again.”
It was his way of saying go away, lady but without obviously rejecting her. The trick that he’d picked up long ago always worked like a charm. Only a trace of disappointment crossed her face before she promised that he would definitely see her again and she stumbled away from the bar. Even if he had been interested, it wouldn’t have been a good night for him to play, anyway. He had his other side job to get to after clearing out the bar, his favorite of the three he had on Garel.
Kanan alternated between swigs of his lager and the occasional shot of hard liquor as the rest of his crowd cleared out.
A job where he could show up wasted was a good job, indeed.
-
Hera looked on at her reflection in the mirror with a satisfied smile on her face. It wasn’t often that her intel missions required her to pull out the type of wardrobe she’d adorned herself in, but when she did, she was shameless about it. There’d been many types of sentients that found her attractive and she was more than happy to use that to her advantage.
Especially when she knew that she could effectively disable any of those sentients who didn’t know how to keep their hands to themselves.
After a long moment, she decided that the rouching along the sides of the fitted black dress that left very little to the imagination could be tugged upwards to bare just a little more of her long legs without ruining the line of the dress. She smoothed it out so the hem sat mere centimeters below the curve of her ass. Now the desired effect would certainly be achieved.
Thus far, Garel had been a bust in trying to find any crew members, just like every other world that she’d been to. Whether it had been due to her inability to lower her standards or her resistance to share her ship with another sentient made no matter; she was content to gather intelligence for now. The information she’d gained in the past months had been profitable and it had kept her comfortably funded so she saw no reason to stop.
Logic dictates that you should be accompanied on this mission. Chomper whomped from the door of the refresher.
Hera smiled at her droid, knowing his insistence to join her on the mission had nothing to do with his desire to wander Garel City. “Not this time, Chop.”
Then logic dictates that you should wear clothes for this mission. Meatbags are dangerous creatures.
“I guess it’s a good thing that I’m more dangerous, then.” she answered, carefully stepping over the astromech in dauntingly high heels. “Besides, I have my blaster and my comm. If I get into trouble, I’ll call you.”
My photoreceptors do not detect a blaster holster on your person. He warbled after her as she walked into the cockpit.
“Uh, that’s the point, Chopper.” She produced a small blaster from a high holster on her thigh that worked well with her choice of dress. It wasn’t her blurrg but it was just as effective. “See? Blaster.”
Chopper regarded her through his photoreceptors for a long moment before rocking back on his ambulatory struts. He whirred the last protest he had against her engaging in her mission alone. You never let me have any fun.
“Next time we’re surrounded by Imps, I’ll let you have all the fun you want. Lock up the ship and keep watch for me to get back.” Hera didn’t wait for his response before carefully lowering herself down the ladder to make her exit from the ship.
Garel was full of dissidents but that wasn’t the reason she’d come to the planet. Outwardly, the city was little more than just another industrialized urban area that hadn’t yet come under the crushing grip of the Empire. Beyond that, though, was a seedy underbelly run by smugglers and bounty hunters. One of those groups, The Broken Horn Syndicate, was known to provide lucrative jobs without questioning the loyalties of those willing to do their dirty work.
It was the perfect operation for Hera to keep her mission well-funded without drawing too much unwanted attention.
All she had to do was find the right contact and the rumblings she’d picked up of a speakeasy with an underground gambling scene seemed just the place for her to find the type of people she was looking for. With a confident stride and a look that could kill cast in the direction anybody whose gaze lingered on her for more than a moment, Hera headed left the Ghost and head into the night. As she made her way to the warehouse that the underground ring was housed in, she felt certain that tonight would be a good night.
-
Kanan grinned as he massaged the left side of his jaw. “I thought we agreed that you were pulling your punches tonight, Sy.”
The Weequay sneered at him. “That was before you backed out on the deal.”
“See, I think that you’re confused about how deals work. When you tell me that I’m going to do something without anything in it for me, it’s not a deal.” Kanan took an easy step to the side to avoid another swing and then spun on his heel to face the stumbling alien. “Now, if there was something in it for me, we might be able to work something out.”
“You talk too much, Jarrus.” Sy growled, lowering his head to charge at Kanan.
Another step to the side left his opponent stumbling to the mat. Sy was always an easy match for Kanan; the alien had an angry streak that was easily manipulated with a little taunting. As Sy stumbled past him, he brought his elbow down hard against the alien’s back, sending him into the mat. Kanan stood over him with fists raised and a lazy grin on his face. “Now, let me make you a deal. You can stay down and I promise not to send you to medcenter or you can get up and you’ll get a no-expenses paid trip straight to a bacta tank.”
The alien climbed back to his feet, staggering only slightly as he did. “I don’t think so.” He swung at Kanan, just barely missing his face and Kanan took the opportunity to follow the man’s overcommitted swing with a vicious right cross, sending him spinning into the side of the cage. His large head landed with an audible thud against the caging before he fell back and onto the mat.
At the sound of the bell, the surrounding onlookers went wild. Money exchanged hands in large stacks as Kanan looked on. Though he only pulled a meager percentage of the bets, he hadn’t agreed to this job for the money. Where the quiet cantina that he worked at rarely required breaking up a fight, the Garel underground needed entertainment and he was more than happy to provide it. Leaning back against his corner of the cage, he took a long drink of a beer and then chased it with a quick swig of water.
While they cleared his downed opponent out of the cage, Kanan glanced around the room. The crowd was an even mix of sentients but made up mostly of humans, Devaronians, Chagrians, and Trandoshan. Attractive Twi’leks, Togruta, and Human women served drinks to the rowdy crowd or hung on the arms of the wealthier onlookers as paid escorts.
Where the cantina had been a quiet haven for would be revolutionaries to exchange information, the warehouse was a loud distraction for members of the Black Sun and the Broken Horn Syndicate carry on their seedy business dealings.
His attention was drawn back to the ring by the protestations of old durasteel hinges in bad need of oil as they swung open to allow his next opponent in. He cracked his knuckles in anticipation as a hulking Trandoshan entered the ring. “Bossk, you son of a bantha! It’s been a while. They finally release you from physical therapy?”
The Trandoshan replied with an growl and clenched fists.
Kanan’s face lit up with delight in response. He eyed his opponent allowing a smug grin to break out on his face despite the ache in his jaw. The crowd only grew more frenzied as the final call for bets went out. He turned his gaze to the crowd one last time, waving his arms in show to rally the bets in his favor.
Before he could turn his attention back to his opponent, his gaze fell on a pair of long green legs mere meters from where he stood. His favorite color of green. He followed the legs up to an impossibly short skirt, ample hips, pert breasts that were barely covered and finally a set of familiar emerald eyes that were widened in surprise. Kanan wasn’t entirely sure if he’d had too much to drink or if the Force was finally giving him a fucking break but he was desperately hoping for the latter.
The sound of her voice saying his name in combination with her lingering gaze on him left him senseless to everything else around him: the loud cheering of the crowd, the ring of the bell, and heavy steps of his opponent rushing in his direction. For a brief second, he came to his senses, long enough to se the shift in Hera’s gaze from surprise to panic and then everything went silent and dark.
-
Hera dabbed gingerly at the large laceration along Kanan’s forehead with a bacta infused pad as his head laid in her lap. The bleeding had finally stopped after she’d sewn it up herself. Nobody else had seemed interested in doing so; she shouldn’t have been surprised. It was a place of ill repute.
A low groan left Kanan’s lips as she dabbed and she stilled her hand for a moment. The eye that wasn’t swollen shut fluttered open and seemed to focus for a moment before closing again. She wasn’t completely sure that he’d realized that she was there until he opened his mouth to speak. “You gonna kiss it and make it better, sweetheart?”
She scoffed. “I do not feel sorry for you.”
“You should. It’s your fault I got knocked out,” he countered with a lopsided grin. “You show up here looking like that and expect me to be able to focus?”
“I was on a mission.”
His brow furrowed, his eyes still closed. “I’m jealous of the objective. I never got to see that outfit.”
“It’s called fitting in with the crowd,” she sighed. “How are you such a pain the ass even when you’re like this?”
“Years of practice,” he grinned. His good eye fluttered back open. “The party over?”
Somehow, even though he looked like a steaming pile of blurrg droppings, Hera couldn’t help but think that he was still ridiculously attractive. She brushed a piece of hair clumped with blood out of his face. “The party is over and you need ice on that eye. Do you have somewhere to go?”
“I got a place a couple blocks from here.”
“You think you can make it that far?” she asked warily.
Kanan answered her by sitting up. For a moment she thought he was going to fall back over but he seemed to steady himself. “I’m good. I’ve taken worse beatings and walked away from them.”
Hera shook her head, her lekku swinging gently at her shoulders. “You’re crazy.”
“Not the first time I’ve heard that,” he answered as he stood. He started to stagger to one side and she sprang to her feet to steady him. His arm draped around her bared shoulder and he seemed to straighten up. “I’m fine. See? I’m okay.” He swayed again, leaning heavily into her.
She rolled her eyes with the faintest of smiles. The man was a ridiculous oaf. “Okay. Let’s get you home.”
What should have been a five minute walk took three times that between the ridiculous height of her heels and the struggle of dragging Kanan along with her. When they finally arrived at his flat, Hera was mildly surprised to find that while the place was old and in disrepair that he’d kept it immaculate. The stumbling, inebriated, carouser draped over her did not strike her as somebody who kept a clean space.
Then again, there seemed to be something more to him lingering just beneath the surface. The man was a walking – or stumbling – contradiction. “Alright, where’s the shower? You’re a mess.”
“You going to join me?” he asked in a slurred voice.
“Not gonna happen. You can barely stand upright,” she sighed. When he made no effort to lead her in the direction of the shower, she pulled him through the small flat instead until she found the refresher. She turned on the water and turned to set about stripping him of his clothes. Her fingertips grazed his skin as she gripped the hem of his shirt and dragged it upwards, over his muscled abdomen and the broad span of his chest; the added height of the heels made it easier for her to pull it over his head and down his arms.
Though she’d actively tried not to pay too much attention to his body, the spectacular bruises in various stages of healing over his torso caused her to inhale sharply. “Kanan. Seriously?”
“I’m fine,” he assured her in a thick voice.
“You don’t look fine. You look like shit.” She unbuckled his belt and unfastened his pants with surgical precision. Any part of her that had been trying to ignore her physical attraction to him was now overwrought with concern instead. Carefully, she eased his pants and basics along from his hips. She waited while he clumsily toed off his shoes until she worked the pants from his legs and tossed them aside.
When she pushed him into the water he jerked to alertness. “That’s cold!”
Hera’s nose wrinkled. “That is not cold. And your hands aren’t broken so you’re more than capable of adjusting it while I go find some ice for that eye.” She waited for a moment to make sure that he was steady on his feet and when she was satisfied that he wouldn’t fall out of the small shower, she left him alone.
True to the life of a man who was always on the move, he didn’t seem to own much. The towels in the closet of the corridor were old and threadbare. She found a drawer containing a few clothes and pulled out a pair of soft pants that she assumed he’d sleep in.
Lying just under them was a rectangular case, like one that was designed for the scope of a rifle. Her fingertips slid over the soft material of the case and for a moment she considered opening it. She’d never seen him with a rifle and he didn’t seem to own one that she could see. The moment passed, though, and she decided against the invasion of his privacy.
Steam wafted out of the fresher door when she opened it to leave the clothes and towel on the counter for him. “Are you trying to boil yourself?”
The only semblance of an answer she received was a grunt.
With a slight shake of her head, she left him to cook himself alive while she sought out ice for his eye. The small chilling unit didn’t contain much, a few bottles of lager and a scant amount of food. She found ice in the freezer compartment above it and wrapped it in a towel. She shuffled through drawers and cabinets until she found some pain tabs and a glass to fill with water. Carefully balancing it all in hand, she dutifully carried them into the room.
He was already flopped onto the small bed when she found him, face first into the pillow.
She sighed softly and carried the bit of supplies that she’d gathered to the side of his bed to sit them down. “Scoot over,” she said in a firm voice, not entirely sure he was conscious. He rolled to his side and she sat on the bed next to him, stretching her legs out. It felt good to be off of the ridiculous shoes. She toed them off and they dropped to the floor.
“Never thought I’d get you into a bed,” he mumbled with his eyes closed.
Hera laughed softly, “It doesn’t count if you’re passed out. Come over here. You need to take these and let me put ice on that.”
Kanan swallowed the tablets she gave him but didn’t take the water. His head came to rest against her stomach, his wet hair soaking through the thin material of her dress. He jerked slightly under the cold of the ice when she pressed it against his eye.
“Sorry,” she murmured.
“Thought you didn’t feel sorry for me,” he reminded her in a string of words that were so thick and slurred together that it barely sounded like basic.
“Shut up and go to sleep,” she answered. Her free hand came to the enchanting head full of hair and her fingernails scraped against his scalp lightly. Within moments, his breathing was deep and even and his body had relaxed into hers.
Hera was certain that he’d fallen asleep until he spoke again. “Don’t leave.” It was a simple request, made in the last dregs of consciousness.
Despite the fact that she knew that she should leave, she technically still had work to do. She reasoned with herself that maybe if he’d gotten himself tied up in whatever barbaric thing he was doing, that he could help her find the contact she was looking for. “I won’t leave,” she finally said in a voice just a whisper.
She was answered with a soft snore.
-
Kanan woke to a barely dressed Twi’lek wrapped around him and a lek draped over his face. Logically, he knew that his head should be pounding and that his insults from the night should be nagging him, but all he felt was her. Just as he’d started to doubt whether or not he’d ever see her again, fate had crossed their paths once more.
Gently, he tried to ease her lek out of his face but he abruptly stopped when she stirred. He didn’t want to wake her; there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that she probably never slept enough. Despite his efforts to keep still, she shifted beside him, long bared legs straightening and back arching as she stretched. He swallowed hard as her body moved against his. For once, he was willing his dick not to respond.
Always the part of his body with a mind of its own, it ignored his silent pleas.
“Good morning to you, too.” Hera mumbled. She seemed to jut her hips back into his erection intentionally before she rolled over to face him. A sleepy smile traced her lips as she reached up to brush her fingertips against his brow. “You can open both of your eyes again.”
He grinned. “I had an excellent medic, I think. A little bit of that is still fuzzy.”
“I’m surprised that you have any sort of memory at all with the hit you took to the head.”
He furrowed his brows. “I took a hit to the head?”
“Yeah. You were busy gawking at me and the Trandoshan that you were supposed to be fighting knocked you out in one go,” she explained plainly.
“I was fighting a Trandoshan?” he asked. This time he couldn’t keep a shit eating grin off his face.
Hera scowled. “You’re insufferable.”
“And you’re beautiful,” he countered. His hand skimmed along the rouched side of her dress.
A flush darkened her cheeks and seemed to spread down her lekku. He delighted in the response and took the opportunity to lean forward and kiss the tip of her nose. Something about such a simple gesture seemed so much more intimate than anything they’d done before. It was something he wanted to savor but he knew that she’d probably attempt her escape at any given moment.
“What kind of mission involves all of this?” he finally asked. His hand ran along the hem of her dress at the back of her thigh. “Because I’d gladly sign up for that job.”
“Actually,” she answered, making no effort to move away from his touch, “I was hoping you could help me with that. I originally went to the warehouse last night looking for a member of the Broken Horn Syndicate. I heard they run smuggling jobs and don’t ask many questions.”
Kanan arched a brow, “They do.”
“Know any of them?”
He reluctantly replied, “I might. You sure you want to get tangled up in all of that?”
“I don’t do anything unless I’m sure,” she said pointedly. “I need the jobs and those kind of jobs lead to the kind of intel I’m after anyway.”
“You’re crazy,” he groaned lightly, “but I’ll introduce you to Vizago.”
“You’re calling me crazy when you’re the one covered in bruises and fighting for what I’m assuming is fun?”
He shrugged slightly. “Hey, I was undefeated until last night.”
Hera wrinkled her nose and narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “No you weren’t.”
“I swear. You can even ask Vizago when I introduce you.”
“Kanan Jarrus, I know that I saw plenty of half-naked women at that warehouse last night,” she said scoldingly.
“There was only one half-naked Hera, though,” he answered in a low voice. His fingertips dared to slip beneath the back of her dress. He was pleasantly surprised at the feeling of bare skin against his hand. His fingers traced higher until he found a thin strap of material at the cleft of her ass.
Her breathing staggered and eyelids became heavy. Her lips were parted, he was sure to continue in their witty repartee, but he silenced her with a kiss instead. When she draped a leg over his hips, he slid his fingers down her ass and between her legs, teasing her through the thin material of the flimsy basics she wore. She moaned in response.
Incredibly impatient with need, he shoved the material aside and plunged two fingers inside her. She was already wet, already hot and welcoming. He began to work eagerly with intent strokes, ruthlessly dragging the pads of his fingers against the rough spot inside her. Her hand gripped his arm as he fucked her with his fingers, nails digging into his flesh.
His name was a whispered gasp from her lips, a sweet sound that he’d never tire of. Already, he was desperate to be inside her, desperate to feel her clenching around him and filling the stagnant air of his ancient flat with her melodic cries. With one hand he pushed his pants from his hips, freeing the erection that strained against the soft material.
Just as her muscles started to ripple around his fingers, he pulled his hand away to roll onto his back, pulling her with him. He pushed the already absurdly short dress up over her hips and yanked her basics aside with such fervor that they ripped at one side. Before she could chide him for destroying the things, he pressed his hips upward to fill her.
Where their second encounter had only been weeks after Gorse, the third time had taken too long. There was something undeniably different about her from the other women he’d been with, something that reached beyond the surface and gripped him in a such a visceral way that he couldn’t describe it. All he knew was that he needed her and it had been too long.
She rode him hard and eager, her gaze locked on his. With the hand that wasn’t gripping her hip to steady her, he pushed away the thin strap of her dress to bear her breast to him. He surged forward to run his tongue along her hardened nipple. She responded by tugging at his hair, nails scraping his scalp as he did.
Knowing that he wouldn’t last nearly as long as he wanted to, he dropped his hand between her legs and teased her clit with the expert touch. It was nearly muscle memory, knowing what she responded to, what drew loud cries rather than soft whimpers from her lips. With a broken cry of his name, she clenched tight around him, still clutching his head to her chest.
Using both of his hands to grip the ample curve of her hip, he steadied her uneven pace. He pulled her down ruthlessly hard against his cock in the rhythm that would be his undoing. Already, he felt the pressure building and building low in his abdomen as he forced his way through taut muscles. Her back arched in his arms, the other strap of her dress falling away and leaving her bared to him except for the thin scrap of material that was supposed to constitute a dress hanging around her waist and that was all that it took.
Kanan cursed when he came, hips jerking upward as he pulled her down in an erratic pattern against his spasming cock. After a dizzying few moments, he was fully spent inside her and he stilled their hips but kept himself buried in her wet heat. His lips brushed the valley between her breasts and his forehead came to rest just above it as he fought to catch his breath.
A lek draped over his shoulder and he felt her cheek against the top of his head. Her body was boneless in his arms. Hera felt good, she felt right. In this life where he was lost, no matter where they were she made him feel found.
The moment was over too soon, though, and she was extricating herself from his arms. No matter how found he felt with her, he’d always lose Hera to her cause. He watched with a bemused smile as she pushed the ripped basics from her hips and kicked them down her leg.
“You realize that it’s going to be impossible for me to concentrate when I’m making introductions knowing that you aren’t wearing anything underneath that, right?”
Hera flashed a shrewd smile but said nothing before disappearing into the refresher.
Kanan leaned back with an inward groan against his pillows. He’d kill to convince her that the Empire wasn’t worth the risk, that they could travel the stars together and stay out of the reach of danger. He also knew just enough about her to know that she’d never agree to such a thing.
The best he could do was kiss her goodbye when the time came for her to leave and hope that the galaxy would let their paths cross once more.