Chapter Text
Gasping awake, Mara sat bolt upright. For a moment she wavered, frozen in place as her heart pounded and her vision blurred. Then she folded forward, digging the heels of her hands into her eyes with a hoarse curse.
Her vine-silk sleep clothes clung to her sweat-sheened skin as she shuddered, viscerally aware of the throbbing need between her clenched legs and the prickle of cool, recycled air against her bare arms. Fragments of the dream flickered across her mind's eye, making her stomach twist and roll.
The nightmare itself wasn't the problem, not really. Being raped had been… difficult, enough that she still refused to speak of it, even to Talon's med droids. But she was no stranger to pain or night terrors, and being stalked in her sleep by Exar Kun's sulfurous eyes was no worse than the nights she saw the Emperor's fetid gaze boring into her soul again as it had so many times in life.
The real issue was that now she knew.
Knew that Skywalker's feelings for her didn't end with the benign affection he extended to most of the universe, however undeserved. Knew they weren't confined to the earnest interest he offered his students or the stalwart camaraderie he shared with his Rebel war buddies. His feelings for her were… stronger. More prurient. Primal.
And, Force help her, she was thankful to know. Glad she had been the one Tionne called. The one Kam trusted. The one Skywalker desired so deeply that she’s been tested and proved "one loved."
She'd never been loved before. And to be loved by him…
Unable to remain still, she stumbled from the bunk, the clinging blankets trailing on the cold metal floor behind her.
Conflict dug at her, sinking into muscle and bone like slice-hound fangs. Something young and eager inside her preened at having captured the attention of the most powerful man in the galaxy — a sentiment terrifyingly similar to the pride she'd felt as Hand. Stripping off her clothes and stepping under a stream of icy water in the Headhunter's tiny 'fresher, she squashed that inclination — she wasn't that naive girl anymore, and she would never again allow herself to link her worth to someone else's approval.
Shivering as the chilled drops battered her skin, she focused instead on the aching sense of possibility that had lodged under her ribs since The Incident. She couldn't shake the memory of Skywalker’s arms around her on the ramp of her ship before she'd staggered through a sani-steam and collapsed into sleep. Other remembered sensations rolled through her, too: the unbreakable grip of his Force-hold. The bruising piston of his thick cock inside her. The sun-flare-bright healing touch. What would they feel like backed by honest lust instead of Kun's madness?
The question was tantalizing; the appeal intoxicating. But there was no guarantee that such a future was still on offer.
They'd only seen each other once since The Incident, briefly and in public on Coruscant. Both had been working, Luke thronged by members of the government seeking assurances and details about his Academy, Mara managing a network of traders and officials fretting about unstable shipping routes and fluctuating rates. She'd felt his eyes on her repeatedly, his impatience and concern a physical itch beneath her skin and the weight of his worry a knot at the base of her skull. Finally, unable to stand it any longer, she'd plucked the drink from his hand and dragged him to the dance floor — the closest they could get to privacy in the moment.
One hand had curled tightly around her gloved fingers, his other hand too light at her waist. He knew the shape of her hip beneath the ruching of her gown now, and she could feel him self-correcting, fighting the urge to trace the feel of her, treacle-thick guilt leaking from his sense.
"Mara." His voice dripped with relief and uncertainty. "I wasn't sure you'd — if I could —"
"We're fine," she'd interrupted, her voice low but as firm as she could make it. She'd backed the words with a press in the Force, solid reassurance, and watched his shoulders drop, tension dissolving like ice melting on hot duracrete. "I told you we would be."
"You did," he allowed, pulling her a little closer into proper form as they executed a turn. "But then you were gone, and I —"
"I messaged," she'd chided. "There was an emergency. Karrde needed me."
"I know. I heard about it later, too, so I know how serious it was. I just —" Regret and self-loathing had leached between them and Mara didn't know whether to sigh or slap him.
"Nothing happened," she reiterated stubbornly. "And there's nothing wrong between us except what you make wrong, so stop worrying."
Exasperation crossed his face before he wiped it away. "Just tell me you're all right," he pleaded softly. "That you… got care, after."
"I didn't live this long by not taking care of myself when I need it."
He'd actually snorted at that, and Mara had caught a glimpse of his thoughts — memories of her on Myrkr, over-stimmed and bleeding from vornskyr claw marks she wouldn't let him tend. Her body, unconscious and ashen in a shattered seat after Katana battle because she’d thrown herself into the path of a turbo-laser rather than lose her quarry. Her muscles trembling as she’d dragged herself through the Wayland hike, thin and pale, fresh out of the med center after a month unconscious. His dubiousness that any of that qualified as taking care of herself.
"That's rich," she'd sniffed, all mock indignation. "Coming from someone with the self-preservation instincts of a newborn shaak."
They'd been interrupted then, a vape-headed young senator's daughter cutting in with priggish insistence that told Mara the girl had no idea who she was. Still, she'd already seen the Jedi smother a grin at her feigned offense and his remorse had receded behind a wash of sun-drenched affection so she released him off to his new dance partner without fuss.
Immediately re-submerged in the sea of waiting work, she hadn’t seen him again. Blasting off planet again the next morning, still in her evening finery with a dozen new contracts pending, she’d suffered an intolerable desire to have caught him, even for a few moments longer, before she had to leave.
Shutting off the water, Mara stepped out under the air-dryer, still so lost in her thoughts that she barely registered the perfumed heat on her skin.
She might have distracted Skywalker momentarily, but his feelings were still there. Both the guilt and the desires Kun had so smugly alluded to. The ones Mara longed for him to indulge in. The ones he'd have to come to terms with if they were going to stand any kind of chance at a real future.
It wasn't a small ask, especially for a Jedi who had doubled down on trying to be perfect in the wake of The Incident.
It was fortunate for them both then, she supposed, that she'd never been afraid of demanding things.
She caught him during one of the Academy's mid-season breaks. The students had scattered, leaving Skywalker nearly alone at the edge of the jungle. This time he met her at the landing field, his Jedi blacks traded in for casual grey pants and a dark blue sleeveless tunic. His sandy hair was freshly cut and his skin bronzed by the jungled sun. But none of the casual ease strategically layered into his appearance could hide the exhaustion lingering behind his smile and shadowing his distinctive eyes. Mara could see memories of the last time they'd stood in this same place in the tight coil of muscle bunching in his arms as he moved to offer a welcoming embrace. His shields slipped as she let him enfold her, revealing a rush of relief tangled with apprehension at her presence.
Pretending not to notice, she pulled back and held up the bottle of Tevraki she'd brought. "Turn off your comms and I'll share, now that you're off duty."
"Deal," he said without hesitation.
Pressing the button on her beckon call to lock down the ship, Mara joined him on the path toward the back entrance of the temple in which he kept a small suite of rooms. As they walked, he dutifully plucked his comm from his pocket and set everything — his personal code and the general Academy comms — to 'hold'. That done, they continued in companionable silence up the lift, along a wide, dim corridor, and around two corners until they reached his private space.
"I didn't think you liked Tevraki," he commented thoughtfully as he let them into his apartment and headed for the tiny kitchenette to pull down two glasses. "I've never seen you order it anywhere."
"That's because I don't drink it around anyone else." Mara handed over the bottle and let him pour generous splashes for them both. "It's the only liquor that will put me on the floor if I don't invest a tremendous amount of effort into filtering it out."
He looked up sharply at that, his expression changing as he handed her the glass. There was surprise there, and pleasure at the gesture of trust it showed that she'd drink it in front of him… especially now.
"Yes," she acknowledged bluntly, clinking her glass against his, "it's an opener and not a subtle one." She let her lips twist wryly. "But I had the misfortune to work with a few of your Rogue buddies recently and was reminded that fighter jocks need things spelled out for them more often than not."
Luke huffed a laugh and gestured her toward the small conversation square nearby. "I like to think I'm not quite as dense as Wes and Hobbie, thanks." Dropping into one of the deep chairs, he swirled the amber drink absently, his focus still wholly on her. "If you want to be blunt, though, I won't complain.”
Mara said nothing as she settled on the lounger opposite his and lifted the alcohol to her lips. It was warm and biting, the heat soaking into her chest as it spread outward. Only when the first rush of sensations started to fade did she speak.
"I want you to fuck me."
Luke choked on his whiskey, his bright eyes blowing wide. Mara steeled herself against his shock and continued.
"But only if you'll do it properly. I've been thinking about Exar Kun and how sith can lie, but they can't fake their alchemy."
His brow furrowed.
"The magic worked," Mara plowed forward determinedly, aware that she wasn’t making as much sense as she’d intended to. "It required the blood of one hated and one loved. Kun didn't love me, which means you must have because the magic worked."
Luke's expression tightened, his sense going strained behind thin shields.
"And you feel too miserable for everything he said about how you wanted to have me to be a lie."
Luke's gaze slid away and Mara straightened. "No," she snapped, her patience with his self-loathing gone. Flinging a hand out, she pointed a finger toward the door, bringing his startled eyes back to her. "Don't deny it, or I'm going back to my ship and we'll add this conversation to the list of things that never happened."
"What do you want me to say?" He asked sharply. "That I wanted it to be me in control while I fucked you until you couldn't walk? That I wanted to make you come on my terms? That I'm an arrogant, shallow outer-rim fighter jock who wants to prove I'm so good in bed that you never look at anyone else again? Because I did and I am, all of it, and I know it. That doesn't mean I'm proud of it."
"It's not something to be ashamed of," she countered firmly, gripping her drink tightly. "Not if I want that, too."
He stared at her, dumbfounded, his sense going staticky with surprise and confusion. "Mara…"
"I don't have a lot of experience," she said, setting her glass down with a click and rising to pace. "Not outside of what I did as part of my work before Endor. I figured out early on what I liked but I could never trust myself to anyone that way." Stopping in front of the wide transparisteel doors that led to his balcony, she folded her arms tightly across her chest. "Now there's you. And there could be an us — not just in bed. But I won't align my life like that with someone who can't be totally honest themselves about what they want, or someone who treats me like I'm fragile. I crave challenges, Skywalker. I always have, and I'm no different in bed than I am on the battlefield." She took a deep breath, aware of the Force vibrating around her — from her emotions, his, or both, she wasn’t sure. "If that's not something you're up for, I understand."
A long, weighted pause stretched out, filling the space between them.
"You're offering to stay." Luke said finally, testing the words as if he didn't quite believe them. "Not just an arrangement, a relationship."
"That's why it has to be real," Mara confirmed, turning back around to face him, anxiety and hope flickering in her heart. "Why I have to make sure you can handle all of me. Even the…" she gestured, unsure what the correct words were.
"Even the things you don't trust anyone else to see." Luke scrubbed his hands over his face, clearly thinking about the things he didn't trust anyone else with. "Fuck."
"You can sleep on it," Mara offered, crossing back to the low-slung table to retrieve the whiskey and refill his glass. "I understand that it's —"
His hand shot out, long fingers curling tightly around her wrist. " — everything I want?" He finished her sentence.
Plucking the bottle from her hand, he set it aside and tugged her down onto his lap. His thighs were rock hard and solid, and Mara settled astride him willingly as his hands gripped her hips.
"I won't let you leave this time," he warned, feathering his Force sense over hers in a way that made her shiver. "There won’t be any safe words and I won't heal you, after." His thumbs stroked her hip bones over the soft fabric of her tunic. "I'm going to fall asleep absolutely certain you'll still be here when I wake up because you physically can't get to your ship on your own."
"Those are big promises," she teased, raising an eyebrow.
"I'm serious, Mara." The muscles in his jaw tightened. "The pieces of me you want to see… they're not something we can dabble in."
"Since when have I ever dabbled in anything?" She challenged. "And what makes you so sure that you won't be the one to want a safe word when you get inside my head? When you test my limits and decide they're not reasonable?"
Luke laughed, his sense warm and suddenly dark with intent. "Nothing about you has ever been reasonable,” he informed her dryly. “Why do you think I've been head-over-heels for you since you threw yourself at C'baoth on Wayland, determined to save me even though you were half dead and had a sith command pounding in your skull?" Leaning in, he nuzzled beneath her jaw, then nipped at it just hard enough to sting.
Mara swallowed a moan.
"Take off your boots," Luke commanded, withdrawing a little. "And have another drink."
Smirking, Mara slid off his lap. "Don't think you can take me sober?"
"I know I can," he said as he stood, his easy confidence making her blood heat. "But I want to watch you do it, because no one else gets to. Just like I'm going to thoroughly enjoy making you scream the way no one else can."
If he'd been anyone else, Mara might have bristled at the assertion. But this was what she'd insisted on. His acknowledgment of what he needed: to take and hold something for himself, on his own terms, unconstrained by the appearances and limits that bound Master Skywalker.
So she complied, pouring herself another generous serving of whiskey and sipping it while he did a circuit of the space, kneeling to tug her boots and socks off her, then shucking his own and leaving both pairs by the door. Locking up, as if there were anyone left to disturb them.
Unaccustomed to being barefoot in front of others, she curled her toes into the flex-rug and irritably squashed her self-consciousness. Skywalker was going to have complete access to much more scandalous portions of her anatomy momentarily; he wasn't going to notice, much less care about her unsightly feet and the indelible evidence of her past embedded in them — the exaggerated arches and compacted toes from years of strenuous dance training, the unevenness of the poorly-healed bones Isard had broken during her brief, brutal stint on the Lusankya that still ached every time she got cold, the permanently discolored nails she hadn't thought to mask with paint.
"She tortured you," Luke said, fury and protectiveness rolling out from his sense.
Shit. The liquor was going to her head already. She'd never have permitted that kind of mental spiral or allowed her shields to falter so badly if she was still in control.
"She interrogated me," Mara corrected, her fingers curling tighter around the now-empty glass. "It could have been worse." She glanced at his right hand, the one Vader had cut off, grateful for once that she’d never been as important as she’d believed herself to be.
"Will you let me look at them later?" He asked, circling back toward the seating area. "Force healing isn't great at addressing old wounds but I might be able to help a little."
The corners of Mara's mouth quirked up. "What happened to the whole 'I won't heal you' thing?"
"That still applies," he assured her, dragging his tunic over his head with the unselfconscious ease of a fighter pilot accustomed to disrobing in shared spaces.
He was exactly as she remembered, all golden skin and lean muscle. The fractal scars that snarled across his torso and shoulders only highlighted the rest of his physique. They made him look like the dangerous being that he was, giving quiet testament his powerful and unrelenting pursuit of what he believed in. What he wanted. And now, he wanted her.
"I want to see the marks I leave on you," he clarified, plucking the glass from her hand and setting it aside. "But what other people have done…" He pulled her to her feet, his fingers trailing over her collarbone where her tunic concealed the lighter, lacework lightning scars C’baoth had etched into her. "You've suffered enough," he said softly, his other hand curving around the small of her back and tugging her flush against his body.
Then, dipping his head, he kissed her.