Only when you're standing in front of the building do you pause to consider what you have spent the last three weeks doing. Slushing through jungles, slinking through dark alley ways, mixing and mingling with the most dangerous hustlers the galaxy has to offer--and spending your all too precious savings while you shuttle from port to port, ignoring the increasingly frantic contacts from you superiors.

As an assassin in the Republic army, you are supposed to be closely watched. The citizens of the galaxy would be nervous if they suspected that the Republic army even trained assassins--and if they knew that one of those oh so rare and oh so dangerous assassins has struck out on a mission of her own . . .

Thankfully for you, no one in the army is skilled enough to track you. You're free--or at least as free as someone obsessed can be.

It had started four weeks ago, with a debriefing after you captured and brought to heel one of the Dark Jedi. The famous General Jedi himself had been present--called in from another mission to oversee the return of the Dark Jedi to the Temple.

He had paused next to you to thank you, long fingers brushing against a harsh lightsabre wound left bare on your shoulder by your sleeveless shirt. "You risked a great deal for us," he whispered, aqua-gray eyes boring into yours.

He started as you reached up to touch his fingers, guiding them away from your bare skin. You could see him tremble, see his eyes go wide as he jerked back as if you had burned him. There was something between you--something that you didn't want to face yet.

"It's what I'm paid to do," you responded. He brushed his fingers against your face again before he turned--and you let him walk out of your life.

But not out of your mind. He made love to you in your dreams, cried out to you in your thoughts. His face was all you could see--his voice all you could hear. After an entire week of vivid dreams and strangling nightmares, you decided to follow him.

No one could stop you. No one could find you. You evaded friends and enemies alike, your entire being focused on finding the man who had seared your soul with only a touch and a few words. You don't even know what you're going to do when you see him--only that you have to.

Without a moments more hesitation you step forward and swing the door aside, striding into the room and letting your trained gaze roam over the occupants, all displaying varying degrees of shock and surprise. No one could find this base--it was too well hidden.

But you found it. And you found him.

He stands in the corner, eyes wide and focused on your face. By the hitching of his chest you can tell that he's having problems breathing, and for once you're in the same situation. The sight of him cuts out the rest of the world, shuts down senses that have been trained to constant activity since you were old enough to walk.

You're not yourself without him--not an assassin--and you don't know what you are.

"Dismissed," he barks suddenly, a voice trained to command. The room empties out quickly, leaving you staring across a few empty paces at the man who haunts your soul. Who owns you, even though you don't know why.

A few steps and he's at your side, hands clenching tightly on your hips as he propels you backwards until your body thuds dully into the wall. "Why did you come?" he asked in a strangled voice, sinking his face into your short hair. You can feel his breath hot against your skin as he slides his face down, brushing a soft kiss against the rim of your ear before sliding his lips to your cheek. "What took you so long--"

"You were well hidden," you respond, hands coming up to clasp the broad shoulders. You're appalled that you're trembling--but you've hardly slept or eaten since you started your search. It's no wonder you're weak.

"Say yes," he growls suddenly into your ear, fingers splaying out posessivly on your hips. You feel your body arch into his touch as he grinds his hips slowly against yours, gray-green eyes catching yours and holding them. "Say it /now/," he hisses.

"Yes," you groan, letting your head fall back as your eyes slide shut. "What did you do to me? I need you--need you so much."

"Need you more," he responds, voice harsh. Then his lips are on yours, and there is no room for thought. No room for anything but heat as his lips drive yours apart, his tongue finding yours instantly and commanding it to obey.

Your fingers claw at his hard shoulders as you tilt your head, trying to become one with him, to melt into his body. The need driving you is beyond comprehension, and defies all logic. You need to be one with him--need to feel him writhing and twisting against you as he pours himself into you . . .

"Yes," he growls, fingers fumbling with the buttons on your tunic. You hear the faint clinking as three of the buttons hit the floor, torn from the fabric in his anxiety. Twisting between his body and the wall you press your upper body more firmly into his hands, your own hands tugging at the buttons on his tight black tunic.

Mouths meet and merge again as shirts fall away, and you feel the slight dusting of hair on his chest as he slams it into yours, the skin brushing against your own electrifying. You let out a harsh moan, thrusting your hips into his demandingly. One hand creeps down to cup the apparent bulge in his pants, stroking it with sure, steady fingers.

His forehead hits the wall over your shoulder, his breathing harsh and shallow. You hear a whimper escape his mouth as he thrusts his hips blindly into your hand, fingers tight around your waist.

You don't stop your stroking when you feel his hands creep to the ties on your loose breeches, undoing the strings and letting them slide to a puddle on the floor. Your undergarments follow, the progress hindered only once when you snuck your hand under his pants for more direct contact.

When you're naked before him he grasps your wrist, pulling your hand away from his throbbing flesh. "Scream for me," he rumbles, green eyes pinning you to the wall as he drops to his knees, hands coaxing your legs apart.

Your head crashes back into the wall as he dives straight for your clit, lips attaching to the sensitive nub and sucking fiercely. His hands grab your hips as your knees try to buckle, pinning you helplessly to the wall in front of him.

You can feel the rasp of the stubble on his chin as he pulls back to rest his face against your thigh, eyes fixed on your curls. "Mine," he purrs, reaching up to caress you gently before slipping a finger inside you.

Your hands clasp in his hair, winding strands about your fingers as you lead his mouth back to your aching wetness, reveling in the skillful manipulation of his tongue against swollen flesh.

Just when you think you're nearing the edge you feel the hands on your hips shift, untangling your hands from his hair as he guides you to the floor. Your legs are spread again, and with one long thrust you're filled with him.

Nothing has ever felt so right. You scream, your voice rising with his as he tosses back his head in ecstasy. You can see the honey blonde hair brushing his shoulders, as he struggles for control, hands locked onto your thighs as you both hang for a few moments on the brink of movement.

"Make me yours," you hiss finally, fingers trembling as they reach down to brush the hands digging into your hips. With a swift movement you have your ankles locked behind his back, bringing his body flush against yours and burying him deeper within you. "Take me."

His powerful hips pull back and snap forwards, splitting you with glorious heat. You cry out, keeping your eyes open with a force of will. There is nothing that will make you turn away from the sight of this man claiming you.

His hair hangs in his face, sticking to his sweaty neck and cheeks as he tosses his head back, revealing the powerful arch of his neck. You can see the tendons move as he swallows hastily, tongue darting out to wet his puffy lips. The rough golden stubble on his cheeks glistens with sweat, sweat that trails in tiny paths down the expanse of his golden chest.

He is beautiful--and he is yours.

"Harder," you whisper, tugging again on his hands. Obeying your urging he moves to plant a hand on either side of your head, leaning down to capture your lips in a bruising kiss that makes your head spin.

"More," he gasps, thrusting into you so hard that you feel yourself slide back an inch. Your legs tighten even more as he props himself up on his arms, hips snapping with insane speed. You can feel your climax building--knowing that you should have exploded a long time ago.

And still it goes on, the frantic thrusts as his hair falls over his shoulders, tickling your face as he gasps and groans in overwhelming need. His mouth feathers kisses over your entire face, eyes shut as he grunts with each powerful thrust.

You feel his shift in position as he moves back to his knees, lifting your hips and altering the angle enough to deepen his strokes. You let out a high pitched scream, thrashing against him as one hand slips between your curls to slick across your clit, coaxing the beginnings of your climax out of you.

It goes on forever--for an instant and forever. There is no time in the place you have been tossed, only wave after wave of pleasure as the man above you continues to moan, the movement of his hips becoming slightly desperate. You feel your muscles contract around him--hear his startled gasp and grateful cry--

And then his body is on top of yours, jerking as he cries out his release into your neck. Overcome by the emotion you let your eyes slide shut, remembering only to keep your legs wrapped tightly around him.

***

You wake up slowly, aware that there is a hard body pressing into yours, a stubbled chin nestling in your neck, and hair that can't be your own floating across your chest.

Opening gritty eyes you look at the man sprawled posessivly over you and blink.

He sleeps peacefully, his hand curled around your shoulder and his breath tickling your throat. When you try to shift his arm pulls you closer, the lips muttering something incoherent against your throat.

For now it doesn't matter that you're a rouge assassin. It doesn't matter that you've just slept with a man who you don't know. It doesn't even matter that you can feel his dreams buzzing in the back of your head.

All that matters is that he's with you--and not going anywhere.

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