Welcome! When I heard that we had a forum for posting Non-Adult Solo Fiction, I couldn't resist the opportunity, so I thought I'd post a couple of my works.
Now, unforunately, I don't ahve any of my short stories finished/edited to the point that I could post them, but both of these One shots are more-or-less up to my standards, and I thought I'd share.
First, a little background for Chance;
Chance is about Jayed Kenja, a Hafvian who served as a Jedi General during the Clone Wars, and Hesoj Yarwar, a Mandalorian mercenary that served along-side her during the same period.
Once upon a time, they were lovers, but several circumstances, not the least of which was Jayed's relationship with another man by the name of Boston, has left them both scarred and a bit spiteful of one another.
Currently, they are staying together in a cabin out in the wilderness, temporarily working together to catch a high-profile bounty, which they were both hired by seperate parties to kill.
Jayed Kenja shivered despite the warmth and humidity contained within the small bathroom as the wind howled outside the wooden cabin walls.
Originally, she and her companion had intended to use the cover of darkness to gain an advantage over their high-profile target; but considering the severity of the snow storm, it had been mutually decided they would wait it out.
As she dried herself off, it occurred to her how curious the difference in their routines was.
Hesoj preferred to clean his equipment first, then shower. Meanwhile, she’d opted to do the opposite.
Of course, part of that may have been because her kit took two minutes to clean; his could take anywhere from an hour, to five; depending on what he’d been doing and how thoroughly he cleaned everything.
Standing in front of the vanity, she wiped the condensation off of the mirror and started brushing her hair.
The air was muggy thanks to the fact that she’d probably emptied the water heater while bathing, contrasted by the large, cool, tiles under her bare paw pads, and solid stone counter in front of her.
Taking a step back, she almost tripped on her overnight bag; it was a small cabin.
Once she was satisfied with the condition of her hair and skin, she squatted, and a slight whine came from the bag as the zipper was pulled back, causing her ears to twitch.
Reaching in to retrieve her under-garments and sleeping clothes, she was surprised to see that a navy-blue, hooded jacket came out instead, barraging her nose with a familiar masculine scent.
I must have grabbed Hesoj’s bag by mistake…
She examined it a moment before pulling it close and taking a deep breath.
The scent brought back many of the emotions she’d tried to ignore the past forty-eight hours she’d spent with its owner. Exasperation, and a deep longing, one that had only grown stronger over the past few years of single life, contradicted each other in her heart.
Pulling herself back to reality, she turned back to the mirror and put the jacket on before slowly zipping it shut.
Never before had it occurred to her how much broader Hesoj’s shoulders were, but as the seams hung loosely over her biceps, it was clear.
The length was hardly modest, but at almost mid-thigh, it covered her, and that was good enough.
She was comfortable in her own skin, after all; the jacket was mainly for Hesoj’s sake as she exited the bathroom.
It was noticeably colder in the master suite, but the jacket was surprisingly warm, and kept her comfortable as she walked past the chairs and into the living room.
Avoiding the kitchenette and fold-out couch altogether, she passed behind the carven chair that Hesoj was sitting in, and at the opposite wall reached for her bag.
Even though the armor piece and cleaning rag he held in his hands had obviously been forgotten to the depths of his mind, she was surprised to see that he didn’t even seem to register her presence as he stared into the fire.
But when her slender, strong fingers lifted the bag from the floor, his ears perked, and when they turned, their eyes met.
Inevitably though, his drifted downwards.
She could sense the physical and emotional tension in the room rise with the volume of the wind…To uncomfortable levels.
“Why are you wearing my jacket?” He asked after a pause.
She knew he didn’t have to ask her that; he was smart enough to decipher that one, but he was probably just eager to end the silence.
Holding the bag in front of her bare legs, she suddenly felt self-conscience and bit her lip, her weight shifting to one foot in much the manner a child uses when caught in the preverbal cookie jar.
“Grabbed the wrong bag…And this looked comfy; besides, it was right on top…”
She went for the submissive look; head downward, ears back, cyan eyes soft and pleading…
Hesoj considered her for a moment with his sapphire-colored gaze…It always interested her how they could look as hard and unforgiving as the tee-shaped visor of his helmet…or vibrant and full of love and laughter, depending on his mood.
Finally, his right hand moved from his sparsely bearded chin and he turned to the fire again.
“Just make sure I get it back at some point.”
Jayed couldn’t help cock her head; it almost seemed like an open-ended invitation.
Making her way back to the bathroom, she responded in agreement, but paused in his blind spot as she smelled something different, yet familiar.
It trapped her breath in her throat when she realized what it was; increased testosterone.
Though she half-heartedly wished it wouldn’t, her own libido gained momentum, and she was terribly tempted to reach out and play with his hair, give his head a good scratching…
It was something he loved; last time she’d done it, he’d practically been putty in her hands…
His impression in the Force gave her pause though…Frustration…Pain...
Push her away…That’s what he’d do…Wasn’t it?
But…Wasn’t I the one always telling him to press the envelope? Saying he’d never get what he didn’t ask for?
As if it had a will of its own, her hand reached out.
Isn’t it worth taking a chance?
Hesoj was again haunted by the question whose answer constantly eluded him.
Should he forgive Jayed? Was she worth his time?
It wouldn’t be the first time he’d let optimism put himself in unnecessary danger…Nor had he gone through life without missing opportunities because of his lack of it.
The optimistic side pleaded with him when he saw Jayed squat behind him in nothing but his own hooded jacket.
He didn’t know which was hotter; the fact that it was all she was wearing, or the fact that it was his jacket…
Lacking though he was in the Force, he could still feel the tension mount in the room…As much if not more so from him than her.
Desperation over ridded his usual intolerance for obvious questions, and he couldn’t help but ask:
“Why are you wearing my jacket?”
She answered him as he’d expected, but at least the ‘pachyderm in the room’ had been addressed.
An almost puppy-like expression pleaded her case, and he found himself lost in those Cyan eyes of hers, as he so frequently had during the Clone Wars…
The fixation ebbed as an increasingly large pain grew in his neck, caused by old injuries he hadn’t tended to recently, combined with the extreme angle of his glance, which lead to him -reluctantly- turning away and back to his armor.
Again he eased the tension with a non-pertinent statement, though he dwelled on the fact that he’d all but invited her to keep wearing it for a while.
Regret ceased him and he wished he could go back, take the chances he never took…Recall the things he shouldn’t have said…
But then his analytical tendencies kicked in, and he told himself it still wouldn’t have worked out between them, that it couldn’t work out between them.
Slowly, he became aware of a presence behind him…Followed by soft, clawed fingers raking through his hair.
Instantly his body tensed and he took a deep breath as she began to scratch, gently.
He then became completely relaxed…A luxury he hadn’t been able to afford in years…
She knew how to make it worth-while too; her fingers danced in a zigzag pattern across the top of his head, over to the right, the back, left, covering every surface, stimulating every nerve and making him feel renewed.
Once she had finished, Jayed’s hand set about trying to brush his mottled hair back into a reasonable position; not an easy task, to be sure.
Apparently either giving up or deeming it satisfactory, her hand drug across the back of his head and had begun its retreat back to her side, when he reached up and grabbed it with his right hand, holding it tenderly.
Their eyes met again, making it seem as if time had stopped.
She seemed a bit surprised as she witnessed his own uncertain features.
When neither off them seemed to be capable of action, Hesoj started to slide his hand back to his lap as his eyes drifted towards the fire.
That changed as her fingers intertwined with his at the shoulder and he felt soft lips brush steadily across his bare cheek.
A dash of child-like hope stirred him as he turned to look at her, but her face was still close enough that when he did, they were nose-to-nose…
What tomorrow would hold, he had no idea; but tonight…Maybe they both deserved a second chance.
With speed that spoke of a hasty decision, Jayed kissed him, the bag forgotten on the floor as she held his other cheek.
And for a while, he forgot about the past as he returned the sentiment.
Hope you enjoyed Chance! Comments are welcome.
And now, for Two Sides of a Coin:
This story is a prequel to Chance, and explores Jayed's reaction to the news of Hesoj's apparent death. (Which we know from Chance, was faked.
Two sides of a Coin: Part One
Darvaria, five years after Geonosis.
As the Hafvian male scanned over the reports, a name caught his eye.
An internal debate instantly brewed within him.
Should he tell her? Was it worth irritating her, worth salting old wounds?
Deciding that the alternative, -her finding out later from someone else and being ticked off- was less favorable, he meandered up the snowy pass to the overhang where his alpha was seated.
He made no sound to gain her attention. It had become easy for him to tell when she was in her own world; lost in thought of the glory days during the Clone Wars…Before she had been so thoroughly scarred.
In times like these, he’d found it was best not to interrupt her…She deserved that much.
“I hope this is important…” She muttered with a hint of remorse as the soft, chilly breeze rustled her blood red hair; a natural occurrence for a member of their species.
“Marginally…” Her second stated as he carefully came up to her and held out the holo-scroll.
Releasing the hold on the necklace her father had given her as a pup, Jayed Kenja eyed the piece of hardware and her second before opening it.
Her eyes hovered from side to side as she read the indicated page, then saw a familiar name…Next to three of her least favorite letters.
Hesoj Yarwar: KIA
As her mouth started to slack, and her breath caught in her throat; she didn’t know what to feel.
Intense anger and sadness beckoned her simultaneously, part of her felt betrayed, was mad at her second -and the galaxy at large- for having dared to mention that name again…
But another part…Softer, hurt and timid, wanted to mourn the apparent loss of a man who had once been her close-friend…And perhaps more, had circumstances been different.
Was it even true? It wouldn’t be the first time his personnel file had been edited in such a manner. Perhaps he was simply tired of fighting impossible odds, and wanted to retire to a quite life in the country side…Raise a family?
What did it matter; it didn’t concern her anyway…