Don't Give In

by IKnowWhatToSayNow

Summary:

Right now isn't always the right time.

one

 

They're breathless as they round the corner into the alley, hearts racing in their chests, pounding as hard as the sound of boots against pavement. Modulated voices close in on them from every corner and he's sure that this is the time that Hera Syndulla is absolutely going to get him killed. He squeezes his eyes closed, an effort to drive back the nightmares of the Purge Troopers that never pursued him, and to keep the sweat dripping down his forehead from stinging his eyes.

At least, he's telling himself that's what is causing his eyes to burn.

Two hands close around his face and he shakes his head, trying to tell her he's fine when he's not, but she doesn't let go. When he doesn't respond, she grips the back of his neck and says his name again, one hand coming to rest over his heart as though the action will stop the wildly out of control rhythm that its settled into. He's tried to tell her that this isn't for him, that they should travel the stars and forget about this fool's errand. Nobody will ever win against the Empire.

In truth, though, he wants her to win.

The problem is that he's holding her back because the demons of his past are clinging to him too tightly and they'll never let go.

Kanan isn't sure if it's the fading of the stormtrooper boots in the distance or the gentle way that Hera says his name that draws him out of his waking terror but his eyes finally snap open to find her there in front of him, concern in her gaze.

"Let's get out of here," he says with a clear of his throat.

Hera's gaze softens and she awkwardly shifts her hands to his forearms. "We can wait a minute, Kanan. Make sure they're all gone."

He knows that it's an act of pity and he doesn't want it; he's already well aware of how pitiful he is. All he wants is to get back to the ship, and then maybe after that he'll finally find the strength to get off the Ghost and rejoin the demons that more effectively silenced the past that still haunt him.

Pathetic.

"We shouldn't," he mutters.

And so they don't.

 

 

two

 

 

"So far, so good. They haven't noticed us."

Kanan's breath is hot against the back of her neck, making Hera involuntarily shiver. It's not the first time that they've ended up in a predicament like this, their bodies pressed together in a dark alley, a small closet, or, like now, cuddled together like two lovers in a dimly lit booth. This isn't even the first time that she's been wearing a flimsy dress or felt his rough fingertips dancing against the small of her back, a gesture that she knows is meant to be comforting.

There's no question that he's gone for her, he always has been, but Kanan respects her boundaries without question.

The problem is that she's questioning if she still wants them and now isn't exactly the best time to do that.

"Hey, you okay?"

Dammit.

Hera swallows hard and tries to answer with words but the damn words won't come. She doesn't want to lift her head from the crook of his neck, something that she reluctantly admits to herself though she would have been happy to live in her denial. There's something about the cologne that he wears overwhelming her tonight. He smells like fresh air, leather, and some kind of tree that she couldn't possibly name with all of the planets they've traveled to. More than that, obscured from the visors of the stormtroopers examining the cantina's patrons and the question she knows that she'll see in Kanan's eyes, she feels safe there.

Unfortunately, she knows him too well and that he won't stop checking in with her until she assures him that everything is fine.

Doing her best not to audibly curse as the tip of t'chin wraps around his wrist when she lifts her head, she lets her eyes move up his neck and to his chin. This is an act, she tells herself, over and over again, doing her best to make herself believe it.

It's not like the stormies can see her gaze or where it lands, so why can't she bring herself to look past his lips?

"Hera?" The tone of his voice has gone from concerned to husky and the protective grip he holds on her waist turns into something that feels more sensual.

Around them, the cantina grows distant, and she isn't sure that the stormtroopers are actually moving along or if they're simply fading away with the rest of the crowd around them. All she knows is that there's a warmth suddenly surging through her body and it's more potent than any liquor being poured behind the bar. She tips her chin up, parting her lips ever so slightly, even while she's silently repeating to herself that they can't do this.

They shouldn't do this.

Kanan clearly has no hesitations, his fingertip sliding beneath her chin to make her eyes meet his. Those eyes that never fail to pull her in, even if she'll never admit it out loud, are half lidded as he studies her.

"Hera." This time it isn't a question. It's a warning that's almost growled, accompanied by a flexing and tightening of his hand at her waist. He's saying it as his mouth is coming dangerously close to hers.

Somehow, she finds the strength to put her hand against his chest and some distance between their bodies so she can take a deep breath. It's just enough to let her break out of whatever spell she was temporarily under and remember their current predicament, their actual problem, which is the Empire. She straightens her spine and tries not to notice the way that his expression falls.

Not wanting to see him hurt like that, hating that she does this to him, she lifts a hand to lay it against his cheek and traces her thumb over his lips. It's the closest she'll ever let herself come to explaining that yes, she feels this thing too, even if her words are a disgusting contradiction to her actions.

"We shouldn't," she says.

And so they don't.

 

 

three

 

 

It's rare that he gets to see Hera like this.

Maybe it's the small thrill of being back home for her, nowhere near the province where she grew up, but surrounded by her people nonetheless. The jobs they usually run have them visiting systems where she is the one who sticks out amongst the crowd. Even if it's just this once, like she says, he's happy to be the sore thumb for a change.

Especially now that he knows she can dance.

Firelight dances off of the walls of the canyon, brilliant shades of red, orange, and yellow contrasting with the shadows of Twi'leki men and women celebrating the turn of another year, and better yet—a successful mission that delivered a blow to the crushing hold of the Empire on the planet of Ryloth along with its people. He doesn't try to hold back a smile as he watches Hera sail effortlessly through the crowd, her hips swaying with the music and her lekku curling up with happiness. The brilliance of her eyes makes the fire and the surrounding red rocks of the canyon dull in comparison.

Force, she's beautiful.

It's probably something that should embarrass him, the way she can sneak up on him despite the fact that he's cursed with the Force, but he's never minded. Even now, when she hits him with the force of a hovertrain, pinning him between the wall of the canyon and her body.

Kanan has no time to process what she's doing until she's doing it.

All he's ever wanted is this, for Hera's lips to be on his, but this is not at all the way that he pictured it happening. He was supposed to say something seductive and she was supposed to fall for his smooth moves, or it was supposed to be a quiet moment in the galley while he was cooking her dinner, or an accidental and long-denied meeting of their mouths in an alley while hiding from stormtroopers. In no way, shape or form, had he ever pictured throwing his hands up at his side like a pathetic man in surrender. It's the realization that his hands are still flailing about that makes him come back to what should be the best moment of his life.

When he finally responds, he drops his hands to her hips and pulls her body more firmly against his. There are probably whispers about the impropriety of their...whatever this is, a relationship between a Twi'lek woman and Human man thoroughly taboo, but he doesn't care. All he knows is that she's still moving along with the music, drawing him into the same rhythm, and her tongue is timidly tracing his lips.

That's when he catches the faintest taste of the spicy liquor they've all been celebrating with.

There's nothing more that he's wanted than this, than her, but not this way.

She's riding high on the emotions of being home, on the thrill of victory, on spirits, and probably on the second-hand pheromones of everybody surrounding them. Maybe there's something there between them, too, maybe it's all of those intoxicants that's finally allowed her to admit it to herself, but he can't let it happen like this.

Kanan isn't the least bit reluctant to lift his hands from her hips to wrap them around her shoulders instead, gently pushing her away. He smiles sadly, trying not to notice the expression of hurt in her beautiful emerald eyes when she looks up at him, her lips still parted. Although he wants to, he doesn't look away whenever he gives a gentle shake of his head. Nor does he tell her how much it kills him to push her away. That isn't what she needs to hear right now and he knows it.

"We shouldn't," he murmurs.

And so they don't.

 

 

four

 

 

Hera doesn't realize how tender a Human's scalp is until she practically tears the tie out of Kanan's hair to let his wavy brown locks fall around his face, making him yelp against her lips. She smiles into their kiss and then soothes his pain with another sweep of her tongue against his. Clearly his pain is forgotten, at least if the way that he all but devours her mouth is any indication.

Just like every time they've done this before, the ache between her legs starts to build, and she's finding it harder and harder to deny what her body so clearly wants. She leans back on the dejarik table, pulling him with her until she can feel the hardness she's come to crave against her center, making her moan softly. This is the first time that she's felt him like this, with nothing more than the thin fabric of their nightclothes between them rather than the bulky layers they prefer during the day. It's doing nothing for her willpower, feeling him against her like this.

They start to move together, greedily crashing into each other until their kiss is broken by low groans and soft whimpers, and Kanan's forehead drops to her shoulder. She can feel the desperate way that he's gripping her waist and her willpower falters. Hera drops her hand to the hem of his shirt and he lets her tear it off without question. Her fingertips explore his skin, each and every scar that she's noticed from a distance while watching him work on her ship, and she thinks that she eventually wants to be able to trace every one of them out from memory.

It's that errant thought that scares her, jarring her back into reality just as Kanan is beginning to bunch up the hem of her shirt in his fist.

Hera's hand presses against his rapidly beating heart and she pushes him away.

She wants this, she does, but she can't have it.

The Galaxy's future has to come first. 

"We shouldn't," she whispers.

And so they don't.

 

 

five

 

 

Kanan is sure that he'll never get used to the look on Hera's face as he kisses his way down the flat of her abdomen. Half lidded green eyes follow the trail he blazes until he's settled between her legs, not once closing as he slicks his fingers along her core to tease her. It's a wonderfully lewd thing, the way that she holds his gaze while she spreads her legs wide, watches him as he curls a finger inside her. Everything about this woman he loves is intense and he'll never be able to get enough of her, or of this.

Silently conceding in their staring contest again, he drops his eyes to her cunt, a hint of blushing pink hidden by jade, and he uses his free hand to spread her wide. The sight of his finger disappearing inside her in the slow rhythm and firm strokes she prefers makes his mouth go dry but he denies himself the taste of her before he curls a second finger into her body, drawing the needy little sounds he desires past Hera's lips. He's enchanted by the sight of it, watching her stretch around his fingers, and two fingers becomes three before he finally lowers his lips to her clit to draw the swollen bud into his mouth.

She's not always patient like this for him, willing to spread out beneath him and let him have his way with her. Sometimes she's got him by a handful of hair, dragging him exactly where she wants him until she can't and then he takes over, holding her hips against his face to draw out her orgasm as long as the Galaxy will let him. Most of the time, he's the one on his back and she's riding his face, his arms pinned mercilessly beneath her knees so he's helpless to the whims of the woman above him, not that he'll ever complain about submitting to her.

He supposes that the long hours spent in hyperspace with no tangible mission is working to his advantage tonight.

Hera's orgasm hits more quickly than he would prefer, her cunt clenching tightly around his fingers, her cries growing louder as he strokes the rough patch inside her and continues to kiss her until she's raking her nails across his back. When she gives him one final and satisfying shudder, he finally pulls away wearing a shit eating grin and crawls back up her body to kiss her. She answers by pushing him onto his back and straddling his hips.

Force, he loves her.

Kanan's eyes drop to where their bodies meet as she wraps her fingers around his cock, guiding the fat and weeping tip of him inside her, and his head drops back to the bed, his eyes closing as he's enveloped in the best kind of euphoria. There's nothing slow or savory about the way she enjoys him, no taking it easy as she works to accommodate his length, slamming her hips into his until the curls at the base of his cock are brushing against her clit. Some nights, she's content to ride him just like that, moving fast and hard until they're both falling apart. Tonight, though, she's in some kind of a mood because she submits to him again, bringing his hands to her hips to guide her movements after she's settled onto him.

He's all too happy to acquiesce.

Settling his feet against the bunk, he brings his knees up and begins to drive into her at a harsh but steady pace, drawing soft cries past her lips. He surges up, his abs flexing beneath her palm, and he crushes his lips against hers. Sure, the change in position claims the depth that he can reach inside her body, but the way that she kisses away the taste of herself on his lips is more than worth the sacrifice.

They rock together in the dark, greedily swallowing each other's sounds until there's nothing left but broken breaths, their bodies completely spent.

With his arms wrapped around her, Kanan drags her back down into the bunk with him. Hera's relaxed against him and he thinks that maybe, just this once, the fact that there's no intel to review or chores to be done will change how she responds to his silent proposition as he nestles his chin into the crook of her neck.

He's such an idiot for hoping.

Hera gently pries herself out of his embrace and sits up on the edge of the bed. She avoids his gaze when she stands and grasps the shirt, his shirt that she's claimed as her own, and slips it over her body.

"We shouldn't," she sighs.

And so they don't.

 

 

plus one

 

 

The golden rays of the sun filter into their room through the windows causing the little specks of dust that dance on the air to glitter, and warming her skin with its radiant glow. Her eyelids are still heavy and the sound of Kanan's heart beating slow and steady beneath her earcone threatens to lull her back to sleep. This feels like some sort of dream and she wonders if it will ever start to be real to her, the fact that the war is finally over, that the Galaxy has finally settled into a state of peace.

"It's too early for your mind to be racing like that," Kanan half-murmurs, half-grumbles, shifting until he can wrap his arms tightly around her.

Hera smiles against his chest and lifts her head up to see him peeking down at her through one cloudy gray eye. "You are not a mind reader, love."

"Sixteen years together means that I don't have to be," he smirks and lowers his mouth to kiss the top of her head. "But for the record, I could hear that constant thrum five minutes after I met you."

"You still love me, anyway."

"You know I do," he says emphatically. "Always."

Like every morning that's come before, Hera feels some impulse to get out of bed, as though there's something she needs to do. Most times, she doesn't fight it. Sometimes, she tries to. Almost always, she fails.

Almost always.

"We can't just lay here all day," she frowns, even as she closes her eyes. "We should get up."

Fortunately for her, Kanan has always known—and respected—what she wants.

"We shouldn't," he utters.

And so they don't.