Chapter Text
Nocturne: A musical composition that has a romantic or dreamy character with nocturnal associations.
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Only the sound of clapping and cheering break them apart.
Jorgan watches the heat rise in Wynneth’s cheeks, a reminder just how easy it is to make her blush, one of his favorite things to do when they’re alone. She rests her forehead against his chestpiece, seemingly to hide her face, and Jorgan turns them slightly, not letting go, to shield her from the group watching them.
He didn’t mean to kiss her just now. At least, he didn’t mean to kiss her in front of the entire camp. But it turns out even Jorgan has a limit to his sniper’s patience. And fighting side by side all day next to his wife finally caused him to reach the end of his.
Looking over at the crowd, he sees Dengril is the instigator of the cheers. Of course he is. Dengril’s been a good friend over the years when Jorgan desperately needed one. He looks back down at Wynneth. “They’re just happy for me,” Jorgan says softly. “Ignore them.”
Wynneth lets out a quiet laugh, her face still hidden. “Everyone in this camp knows we’re going to have sex tonight.”
“Exiles might not know,” Jorgan counters, trying to push away some of the guilt piling on his shoulders. All those people, turned from their homes because of them. It makes him sick.
It’s also not a problem he can solve tonight.
So for once in his life, Jorgan decides not to worry about things he can’t solve, and instead focuses on the woman in front of him.
Wynneth lifts her head, her cheeks still slightly flushed, and says, “Tell me you have a private tent.”
Jorgan nods slowly. “And I made sure I’m not on the watch schedule for the night.”
Her brow furrows slightly. “So you knew-”
“Let’s take this private,” he says, interrupting, not wanting to talk any more in the open. “I feel like I have a target on my back.”
Wynneth steps away, and before he can stop himself, Jorgan takes her hand, intertwining their fingers. He’s usually not one for public displays like this, but damnit, it’s been five years. He’ll forgive himself this one time.
“Lead the way,” Wynneth says, squeezing his hand.
The entire camp seems to be staring at them as they walk over to Kanner, who has first watch.
“Don’t worry, sir,” Kanner says with a crisp nod. “We’ll only wake you for mission critical.”
“Thanks, Kanner,” Jorgan says, appreciating the attempt at discretion. “Don’t take a double watch tonight. I know you’ll try. We need you at your best tomorrow.”
“Understood, sir,” Kanner says.
Jorgan shakes his head as he and Wynneth walk to the weapons rack. “That’s not a ‘yes, sir,’ Kanner,” he calls over his shoulder.
“Best you’re getting, Major,” Kanner says back.
“You know, I think like her,” Wynneth says, taking her blaster rifle off her back.
He chuckles as he unlatches his own rifle before pointing out a free space for Wynneth to store her weapon. As much as he wants to get her alone, they’re both veterans, with too much respect for their gear. Proper care and maintenance of their kits could be the difference between life and death tomorrow.
Once both their weapons are stored, Jorgan releases the seals of his chestpiece as they walk to the tent. A familiar sense of relief washes over him as he takes a deep breath. And finally they stand in front of the tent. “This is us,” he says, trying to sound casual as he holds open the flap.
Wynneth steps inside and he follows at once. The tent’s not quite tall enough to let him stand up straight, so he hunches over as he takes his chestpiece off before carefully settling it down on the ground.
The minute he’s upright, Wynneth is in his arms, hand on his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. Jorgan tries to savor the feeling of her lips against his, holding her as close as he possibly can. It will never, ever be close enough.
When they break apart, Jorgan rests his brow on hers, content to simply hold her for a bit. Granted, he wants to get out of the rest of his armor - his feet are fucking killing him - but this, this, is so much more important.
“I was worried about you,” Wynneth says in a low voice. “They unfroze me and no one knew where you were. I missed you so much.”
Jorgan bit back a reply. Theron knew exactly where he was, just choose not to share the information. But that really isn’t a discussion he wants to have tonight, not when his cock is already straining against his protective cup.
“We’re here now, Winnie,” Jorgan says, her nickname rolling easily off his tongue, even after five years. “We’ll figure everything else out later.”
She nods, giving him one more brief kiss before stepping back and taking off more gear. Jorgan follows suit, taking off his bracers and boots. He watches her undress, trying to see where all the seals are, so he can undress her himself in future, but decides that will need to be a lesson for another day. In her old Havoc kit, Jorgan could undress her with his eyes closed.
Once the last piece is on the ground, Jorgan swallows, suddenly nervous. They’re both in their underarmor, following their old rule of no nakedness in camp. But his nerves don’t have time to settle before Wynneth’s lying down on the bedroll.
He can’t think of any reason why he shouldn’t be lying next to her, so Jorgan gets down on the ground, thankful for the double thermal bedroll, giving them some comfort. It’s not ideal. Ideal would be in a locked room with a decent size bed. But they’ll make it work.
They’re side by side now, bodies flush, as they start to kiss, open-mouthed. Jorgan puts his hand on her ass, trying to bring her closer. He wants to feel everything, from the curve of her breasts to the heat of her cunt.
But he’s also got something to say. “Winnie,” he says, dragging his teeth down the side of her neck. Not hard enough to break the skin, just enough to leave a little mark he’ll be able to enjoy looking at tomorrow. “It’s been five years.”
She stops digging her nails into his hip at those words and leans back. “I know, I’m so sor-”
Jorgan kisses her nose. “Not looking for an apology. I mean it’s been five years since we’ve had sex, babe. I’m gonna last about a minute once I get inside you.”
Swinging her leg over his hip, there’s a smirk on her face as she says, “Good thing I love to watch you come.”
He groans as she grinds against him. “Keep that up and it will be thirty seconds,” Jorgan says.
While she laughs, he takes the chance to lift her undershirt up, wanting to feel as much bare skin as possible. But Jorgan stops the moment he feels a scarred-over wound on her stomach.
It’s too perfectly circular to be anything other than a lightsaber mark.
He must be a glutton for punishment, because Jorgan puts his hand on her bare back and feels the exact same mark, in the exact same spot.
“You were impaled by a lightsaber,” Jorgan says quietly, trying to wrap his mind around the fact. If this is true, she should be dead. No one gets a lightsaber through the gut and lives.
“I was. And I will tell you everything, Aric, I promise,” Wynneth says and he can hear the earnestness in her voice. “Just not tonight.”
He struggles with himself, between wanting to know everything this very moment, and knowing there simply isn’t time. They need sex, then sleep. Not stories that will probably take half the night to tell. Not when there’s an op this important tomorrow.
“Is it mission critical?” Jorgan asks.
The hesitation before she speaks answers his question. It’s absolutely mission critical. “Yes, but not this mission,” she says as her hand wanders his back. Jorgan tries and fails not to shiver. Been too damn long since she’s touched him. “It’s a three day trip to Odessen. We’ll make sure we’re on the same boat back.”
“Agreed,” Jorgan says, leaning forward and kissing her. He glides his tongue next to hers, reminding himself of the differences of a human tongue. Wider, not quite as rough. He can’t imagine kissing another tongue, not anymore, just like he can’t imagine kissing a different pair of lips. A thought comes to him and he breaks off the kiss. “It’ll have to be your ship. I don’t have a private bunk.”
“Done,” Wynneth says with a laugh.
He’s about to think up some banter in response, but then her hands are undoing the slit in his underarmor. Closing his eyes, Jorgan holds his breath as she guides his cock through the slit.
“Fuck,” he hisses. His eyes stay closed as he hears Wynneth spit in her hand. He almost jumps as the soft skin of her palm wraps around his cock.
As she strokes up, slow enough to be a war crime, as far as he’s concerned, Wynneth whispers, “How’s that feel?”
It’s too much. It’s too fucking much. Her hand tight around him, her breasts pushed against his chest, his fingers brushing the mark on her shoulder, the one he lovingly clawed into her skin each night during the first week of their marriage.
“I can’t-” he says without thinking.
It’s a testament to the Republic military consent training that Wynneth doesn’t hesitate. She pushes herself away and raises both hands in front of her so he can see them. “Aric?” she asks softly, concern lacing her voice.
“Blast it,” Jorgan says, hoping he just didn’t ruin their reunion. “I didn’t mean-” He takes her hands in his and looks her right in the eye. “Yes. I want this. I want you. Yes.”
“Oh, thank the stars,” she says, and then she’s pressing against him again, her lips sucking at his jaw.
Her hands brush his cock again, but it takes Jorgan only a moment to realize she’s undoing the opening of her own underarmor. He doesn’t waste any time pushing her hands away to take over the job.
She’s already so fucking wet. Jorgan brings his hand to his mouth, just to get a taste, reveling in the tanginess on his tongue.
“Taste like you remember?” Wynneth says.
“Better,” Jorgan says.
Wynneth puts her leg over his thigh again, giving Jorgan a moment to try to line things up. They used to joke that tents were for fucking, and beds for making love. But he doesn’t want to fuck tonight. Not after five years without her. So as awkward as it will be, both of them wearing underarmor as they face each other, Jorgan is going to make love to his wife.
He guides his cock through the slit in her underarmor, trying to ignore the fabric brushing his cock. When the head rubs open against Wynneth’s cunt, they both inhale quickly. Fuck, he’s not even inside her and he barely control himself.
It takes a moment, but finally Jorgan’s inside her, her warmth surrounding him completely. Neither one of them move and he simply breathes, watching her face. Wynneth moves first, kissing him fiercely, all the encouragement he needs.
The angle is awkward, but Jorgan starts to move his hips, slowly at first, trying to reacquaint himself with Wynneth’s body. But she feels so fucking good, he can’t help but thrust faster.
Neither one of the talk, another rule of having sex in a tent, but more than one soft moan escapes her lips. Jorgan pulls out a bit too far, grimacing as his cock rubs against the velcro of her undersuit. So when he thrusts again, instead of pulling out again, he starts to grind.
Wynneth’s eyes are shut tight and she looks so fucking beautiful like this, when beads of sweat are across her brow and her hair is falling out of place. Somehow he managed to survive without her, without this, for five years.
She starts to clench around him, and Jorgan knows he won’t last much longer. When she digs her nails into his shoulder, the slight twinge of pain is enough to cause him to come undone. His orgasm is sharp, on the verge of being painful except it feels so fucking good, and he needs to grind his teeth together to keep from shouting out.
Once he’s done, Jorgan leans forward, resting his brow against hers. “Fuck, I missed you,” he whispers.
“I love you, too,” Wynneth says with a soft smile. He grunts in response. Somehow she always knows exactly when he’s trying to say those words.
Her gaze isn’t quite focuses as she bites her lower lip. So without another word, he pushes Wynneth onto her back, his hand sliding down the front of her lower underarmor. He finds her clit easily and starts to work, determined to get her off.
It takes almost no time at all before she’s bucking her hips into his hand as she buries her head against his shoulder. Jorgan watches her carefully, wanting to see the exact moment her body lets loose.
He presses down on her clit, and that’s enough. Wynneth arches her back, a closed fist covering her mouth as she grinds against his hand. When she stills, Jorgan moves his hand and places it on her belly, over the lightsaber scar.
“Not bad for a five year break,” she says, breathing heavily as she intertwines their fingers together.
“Agreed,” Jorgan says, propping himself up with an elbow. Exhaustion is settling over him, but not the type that’s going to let him sleep easily. Too much has happened, too much is going to happen, to let him fall asleep quickly. “Bet I lasted ninety seconds there.”
She lets out a weary laugh. “Selling yourself short, Aric. That was easily two minutes.” Wynneth sighs, then, and wrinkles her nose. “I should go to the bathroom after that.”
The last thing Jorgan wants is for her to leave this tent, not when a dozen people will probably stop her and want her attention. “Stay,” he says quietly, hearing the slight plead in his own voice. Just for tonight he wants to be selfish and keep her all to himself. Tomorrow they’ll both give away piece after piece of themselves in order to save the galaxy. But that’s tomorrow. He just wants tonight.
She turns and rolls over onto her stomach, cradling her head in her folded arms, looking up at him. “You win. But I’m blaming you if I get a UTI,” she says, closing her eyes.
“Deal,” Jorgan says.
Her back is simply too tempting to ignore, he decides, extending his claws. He pushes up her underarmor top to expose as much skin as he can. Then as gently as possible, Jorgan glides the claws on one hand down her back. He doesn’t press hard enough to leave a mark, just enough to lightly scratch her back.
Wynneth shivers as she smiles. “I’m gonna fall asleep in a minute if you keep that up.”
“Feel free,” Jorgan says. “From what I hear, they’ve been running you ragged. Sounds like you need some sleep.”
“Sure you don’t mind?” Wynneth asks. “Give me a little time and I’ll be ready for round two.”
“I need a little more recovery than that,” Jorgan admits. Strange to think he’s five years older now and she looks like she hasn’t aged a day since she stepped on to Darth Marr’s flagship. Guess carbonite will do that. “Round two can be in the morning. We really do need to get some sleep for tomorrow.”
She nods and Jorgan can tell she’s about to fall asleep. Within minutes, she is, though now Jorgan feels wide awake. But he knows, whenever he does fall asleep, he’s going to sleep better than he has in years.