New Experience - #06 - SW: RepCom - Ordo / Besany
Title: New Experience
Pairing: Null Arc 11 Ordo / Agent Besany Wennen
Fandom: Star Wars: Republic Commando
Rating: PG
Word Count: 600~
Theme: #06 - Kiss
Comm: 30_distractions
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, amateur effort not intended to infringe on the rights of any copyright holder. Characters belong to their respective owners.
Summary: Time is fleeting, he recalled his realization over the return to Coruscant. Make the best of it.
A/N: Writing them again after such a long hiatus. I don't know if I still got it, but we'll see.
(Prompt Table)
Moments like these, where Ordo desperately found himself tightly locked in an internal struggle over the right words or phrases, were few and far in between. Or at least, they were supposed to be, but he'd found himself at a loss more frequently than he cared to admit over the past several days. The new emotions, the sudden upheaval and developments, were all brought to a head in too condensed a time frame to fully allow for him to process his own internal changes.
There was no denial of his gap in knowledge, his inability to grasp the intent behind otherwise innocuous words shared between two people. It was no help that his brother, Mereel, spoke in riddles and homilies in answer to his questions, and for why he could not ascertain-though he suspected his brother partook bizarre amusement over his obvious discomfort.
Ordo floundered beside the left arm of Agent Wennen's couch, unsure of the direction in which the evening would go. The furniture's upholstery looked comfortable, inviting even, but he still hesitated on the cusp of deciding whether to sit or remain standing-he was simply too preoccupied. He struggled under the weight of internal distress, the helplessness that first assaulted him during the visit to his comrade, his vod, imprisoned within a vegetative state and retained in the home of Jaller Obrim. It lingered while he escorted Agent Wennen home, and then... was he meant to do something else?
He forgot to ask.
"Ordo."
He turned to face Agent Wennen-Besany, he silently corrected himself. Exhaustion wore on her like a layer of ashen sickness, with eyes sunken and skin drained pale, lined with stress, concern, and confusion that seemed to age her-a malnourished appearance that, he was sure, he mirrored as well. But despite her fatigue, or perhaps in spite of it, the strong, atin'la, beautiful woman he recognized underneath the burden of waiting met his eyes and held them.
Time is fleeting, he recalled his realization over the return to Coruscant. Make the best of it.
Ordo took a small step forward, wanting to close the distance but unsure how to follow through, how to request permission for intimacy through bodily gestures, but needing it all the same. This social ritual, this instinctive dance, was lost to him and that revived the sore spot of inadequacy that pained him.
Yet Besany seemed oblivious to his struggle. She moved to meet him, her hands coming to rest on his chest armor, and her sudden, slight, shift of her weight forward to her toes. His brain clicked in recognition, the insecurity fell away under the rapid increase of his pulse behind his ribs and under the tensing of his muscles, braced for something but not quite sure what.
The gentle pressure against Ordo's mouth felt strange, different, and not altogether unpleasant. But just as abruptly as he registered the touch, she pulled away. Her cheeks flushed red, obvious even in the dim lighting of her apartment.
"Sorry," she apologized. "I, ah. I should have..."
"No," he interrupted, and noted that his hands had settled on her waist without his awareness. "I. It."
It was not like him to stutter. He took a steadying breath, silently relieved that she had not tried to move away, and surprised at the feeling.
"This. It's a new experience," he clarified.
"O-oh. You didn't respond, so I..."
Oh. "I was... surprised." He smiled. "Can we try again?"
"Yes," she breathed.
He very nearly missed the embarrassed flush across her cheekbones deepen in color as he dipped in for another kiss.
Pairing: Null Arc 11 Ordo / Agent Besany Wennen
Fandom: Star Wars: Republic Commando
Rating: PG
Word Count: 600~
Theme: #06 - Kiss
Comm: 30_distractions
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, amateur effort not intended to infringe on the rights of any copyright holder. Characters belong to their respective owners.
Summary: Time is fleeting, he recalled his realization over the return to Coruscant. Make the best of it.
A/N: Writing them again after such a long hiatus. I don't know if I still got it, but we'll see.
(Prompt Table)
Moments like these, where Ordo desperately found himself tightly locked in an internal struggle over the right words or phrases, were few and far in between. Or at least, they were supposed to be, but he'd found himself at a loss more frequently than he cared to admit over the past several days. The new emotions, the sudden upheaval and developments, were all brought to a head in too condensed a time frame to fully allow for him to process his own internal changes.
There was no denial of his gap in knowledge, his inability to grasp the intent behind otherwise innocuous words shared between two people. It was no help that his brother, Mereel, spoke in riddles and homilies in answer to his questions, and for why he could not ascertain-though he suspected his brother partook bizarre amusement over his obvious discomfort.
Ordo floundered beside the left arm of Agent Wennen's couch, unsure of the direction in which the evening would go. The furniture's upholstery looked comfortable, inviting even, but he still hesitated on the cusp of deciding whether to sit or remain standing-he was simply too preoccupied. He struggled under the weight of internal distress, the helplessness that first assaulted him during the visit to his comrade, his vod, imprisoned within a vegetative state and retained in the home of Jaller Obrim. It lingered while he escorted Agent Wennen home, and then... was he meant to do something else?
He forgot to ask.
"Ordo."
He turned to face Agent Wennen-Besany, he silently corrected himself. Exhaustion wore on her like a layer of ashen sickness, with eyes sunken and skin drained pale, lined with stress, concern, and confusion that seemed to age her-a malnourished appearance that, he was sure, he mirrored as well. But despite her fatigue, or perhaps in spite of it, the strong, atin'la, beautiful woman he recognized underneath the burden of waiting met his eyes and held them.
Time is fleeting, he recalled his realization over the return to Coruscant. Make the best of it.
Ordo took a small step forward, wanting to close the distance but unsure how to follow through, how to request permission for intimacy through bodily gestures, but needing it all the same. This social ritual, this instinctive dance, was lost to him and that revived the sore spot of inadequacy that pained him.
Yet Besany seemed oblivious to his struggle. She moved to meet him, her hands coming to rest on his chest armor, and her sudden, slight, shift of her weight forward to her toes. His brain clicked in recognition, the insecurity fell away under the rapid increase of his pulse behind his ribs and under the tensing of his muscles, braced for something but not quite sure what.
The gentle pressure against Ordo's mouth felt strange, different, and not altogether unpleasant. But just as abruptly as he registered the touch, she pulled away. Her cheeks flushed red, obvious even in the dim lighting of her apartment.
"Sorry," she apologized. "I, ah. I should have..."
"No," he interrupted, and noted that his hands had settled on her waist without his awareness. "I. It."
It was not like him to stutter. He took a steadying breath, silently relieved that she had not tried to move away, and surprised at the feeling.
"This. It's a new experience," he clarified.
"O-oh. You didn't respond, so I..."
Oh. "I was... surprised." He smiled. "Can we try again?"
"Yes," she breathed.
He very nearly missed the embarrassed flush across her cheekbones deepen in color as he dipped in for another kiss.