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Offshore Job	By : dschinny Category: Star Wars (All) > General Views: 3310 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Star Wars movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 15
- 16
- 17
Chapter 3.2 – A Kill that wasn’t His (Early Morning 28)
Music recommendation: Nightwish – Wish I had an Angel
Jango was a force of nature and he caught up with Tomoe when she was about to pass his quarters.
He hadn’t even bothered to put his helmet back on after the trial. Watching others perform and kill his own enemy had riled him. Yes, in the end, Tomoe had bowed to his rulings like everyone else, but that she left without him afterwards, that indifference had been the last straw that broke his patience. “No more detours,” he accosted her hoarsely, hauled her against him, palmed the door of his apartment open and spun her inside. A flick of his gloved finger on the panel set in the doorframe raised the security level to maximum. Just in case she was going to be difficult… the locks clicked shut.
“Would you like a backrub?” Tomoe asked levelly to calm his volatile temper. She tried to take his hand and urge him towards his bedroom. ‘Maybe she isn’t that difficult after all?’ He gave a gruff laugh and pulled her wrist. Instead of following her lead, he spun her around like she weighted nothing. She tensed just before her back connected with the door panel. “Jango,” she huffed and grasped at his shoulders, then stilled. He was causing her discomfort, she didn’t feel ready for whatever he had in mind… but at the same time, she wasn’t ready to draw blank once again, not tonight, not against him - even though he did not appear interested in easy or comfortable anymore.
Accept him or do not. He had not let her go to her place - to die in a blast. He had just ordered a kill - to protect her.
“No,” he gave her a wide hard smile, “I want to devour you whole.” His kiss wasn’t a gentle one, it was a tongue thrusting hot and carnal kiss. She gave as good as she took and felt the stubble on his chin grazing her soft skin. It made her shiver. The beast was back and it was starving. When he finally lifted his mouth off hers, her lips were swollen and tender. ‘It’s just kissing,’ she repeated in her mind over and over. He then tore her collar open, baring her upper body to the belt, and then wasted no time to slide his large hands down the sides of her narrow skirt to bunch it up and apart. He lifted her up against the door so he could bury his face between her breasts. He inhaled her scent with a content sigh, and then his lips roughly sought out her breasts to squeeze, bite and lick them until her nipples were red, tight and shone with his salvia.
Her trembling did not cease when he swept her thighs apart with his armored thighs and pressed his larger frame up to her. The tsuba of her katana was driven into her short ribs but she didn’t dare to touch her sword now. He tugged a glove off with his teeth and spit it to the ground with an impatient growl. His brutal nearness, rough foreplay and scent of leather, musk and antiseptic soap flooded her senses.
“No underwear, you vixen” Fett remembered before his callused hand had even sought out the apex of her thighs.
“Oh, really?” she tried to hose him down with icy sarcasm. A mere bathrobe hadn’t been her choice of dress to stand through that trial.
“Do you even realize what you’ve been doing to me all night?” he groaned out at his findings, “so wet and ready,” two of his long fingers plunged into her, his thumb tracing lazy circles around her sensitive nub. He pulsed his digits with a slurping sound and stroked until she clutched at his armor and locked her legs around his waist to keep her knees from shaking.
‘Creation’s sake…’ It was probably more the bacta than her own juices, but his rough throaty voice was urging her onwards. She clung to him and gave a small peep that sounded like “warm.” His voice was so distinctive. She loved his sexy voice. At the same time, he was not being gentle. Her back was hitting the wall every time he humped and thrust his fingers into her hard. She slid her hands into his hair, kissed and tugged gently on his thick curls as he leaned into her.
He pressed her up against the door panel, his gloved hand fumbling with the snaps of his codpiece underneath her butt. Apparently, the position he had pushed on her was causing him some difficulties. She didn’t care for his labored breath but let go of all tension and sagged with every pound she was worth. She wished he would just look at her. “Your plates… they feel so warm against my skin today… so hot and smooth,” she repeated to herself with a slightly stunned sense of disbelief.
“Of course… why?” somewhat sidetracked by her ridicules interest, Jango stopped his self-indulgence on her soft and unresisting body and looked up to meet her intense gaze. She was afraid and it gave him the shivers. She wasn’t ready for him, either – not yet. He shifted his weight off her and she stood to her feet shakily. He slowly ran his gloved and ungloved hand up her disheveled form, cupped and fondled her high breasts. “It’s metal skin radiating the heat inside… to keep me from overheating while I go slightly mad.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. He looked down into the dark pools of her eyes with a wide smile. “Show me,” he teased. He wanted, no, he needed her to react to him, in anyway. He would rather have her furious than indifferent.
“Get out of that armor and put yourself inside of me, then I’ll show you how sorry I am,” she banged her small fist on his collar plate.
‘So much about going mad,’ he thought, “I wasn’t about to ask permission…” he huffed and in a sudden movement, her menace scooped her up in his arms and carried her to his bunk, “…but I will give you the choice how you want me to take you.” She gasped as she landed in the middle of the down-turned sheet and braced for his full armored weight dropping down on her next. It didn’t come. She levered up on her elbows to watch him unhook his helmet from the back of his belt and place it aside reverently.
Turning on her side, she slid the sheathed katana from her belt and placed it on the nightstand together with her knife. Then she knelt to unwrap the sash and folded it up neatly, all the while watching him as he slowly and lasciviously pulled his armor off. This was more her pace, all right. Jango held eye-contact all the time, hoping that his little show would help her to accustom to his gear, excite her and give her some good mental pictures to feast her mind on, now and later. She had balked twice for now; getting her to fancy his armored aspect had become a long term goal.
Tomoe shimmied off the trailing summer robe and beckoned him closer until he towered over her. At the same time, her inviting fingers ran down his warm muscled abdomen. “I have chosen how I take you, Jango.” He gave a long slow moan of appreciation as she wrapped her hand around his straining erection, stroking him gently from the base to tip and back as she leaned in. The anticipation alone thrilled him as he realized what she was about to do. “Accepted,” his eyes narrowed into slits. He stood easy for her intimate inspection and hissed with pleasure when her tongue flicked over the head of his member. His entire body tightened with awareness. She engulfed the helmet-shaped tip into her mouth, exploring and lubricating him with her tongue, and then fisted his shaft more firmly as she rocked back and forth on her knees.
He reached down and grasped at her bobbing head. The mixture of hard and tight and smooth and wet was exhilarating as she took him deeper into the cavern of her mouth again. He pulled the ribbon from her ponytail and reveled in feel of her hair spilling over his hands as he smoothed it around her shoulders. He could feel it brush against his thighs like cool silk while he drove his penis through her slippery grasp into her hot mouth. There was nothing between them for once. She wasn’t touching him anywhere else but that just focused all of his senses on her deliberate and very intimate actions.
She tongued the head of his penis in slow circles, learning every fold, ridge and vein. She moaned softly as he thrust into her mouth in a quickening erotic rhythm. The sore tips of her breasts rubbed against his rough thighs and it occurred to her that some spots on him were rougher than his armor. Her black hair was a stark contrast with her ivory skin where he couldn’t touch just now but feast his eyes only. The vertical shadow along her spine flexed, her waist was still so narrow and the dimples on the back of her hips deepened above the heart shape of her butt as she moved to please him. Her dainty feet dug into the mattress as she sat on her firm haunches.
He was coming close and she looked so focused, full of devotion and gentleness, blissfully ignorant what he had in store for her. His battering ram wanted to slam deep down her throat and open the floodgates… but looking down on her, he couldn’t punish her like that. He was certain that she would gag, suffocate or at least hate his taste… and never give him pleasure this way again.
She felt him jerk back and tried to steady him with a soft groan, thumbing a soft spot just below his hipbone. His long, wiry leg muscles were pulled tight under her palm. His thigh, hip and butt felt amazing as he was straining with need. She would add to his arousal until it became too much for him and he would have to let go.
He couldn’t just push her over and trust into her pussy without protection. Finding himself acutely cornered he clenched his teeth and willed control onto his treacherous body. “I’m saving it for later,” he said seductively. She looked up at him and he read in her expression that she was taking that as a challenge. One she would meet with enthusiasm! Damn. “It’s getting a bit lonely up here,” he pleaded. If she would just let go so he could come on her chest …but she remained single-minded.
“My choice, you said.” Ferocity seeped into her voice; she let him feel not just her tongue on the underside of his member, but the sharp ridge of her teeth, very briefly before she sucked him back into her mouth hard, then relaxed again. What she did next was a reminder that she could dive like a champ, long and deep given a single breathing chance. What she had done for dear live just after lights-out, she was doing for his pleasure now in the middle of the night.
He threw back his head and flexed in her clenching grasp. She had taken him indeed and she would taste him, he could let go …she was all relaxed about it, like he was tonight’s main course for her. His ferocious little gdan continued merciless until he gave a shout of completion when he came with an orgasm that shook him from head to his toes.
She took a few shallow breaths and licked her salty stained lips as he collapsed against her with a long sigh a second later, his knees buckling against the edge of the mattress. She rubbed herself all over his chest sensuously as she guided his large frame to lie on the bunk and recover while she suckled him clean.
He stroked a hand down her bare back lazily when she came up to lie against his chest, listening to his pounding heart beat. For now, the beast had found satisfaction. She smiled. Playing with him like this had its own rewards. “You don’t like giving up control do you, Jango?”
He became acutely aware that he couldn’t kiss her without tasting himself in her mouth. He exhaled slowly “Doesn’t it taste bad to you?” he wondered under his breath. There had been a time when he had dismissed the idea altogether, considering her pride …and teeth. His forefinger traced her jaw gently, lifting her face to him. There had been a time when he didn’t even dare to kiss her… before she had been so forwards to do so.
“Uhmm… you don’t overindulge” she tried to explain while secretly wondering what was wrong with him? Jango just quirked his brow. Right now he felt like he was indulging, to the point of debauchery. “You don’t smoke, rarely drink, eat bland customized rations and you …uhm, we worked out repeatedly.” She detailed with an impish smile and reclined, “You taste salty and of your male self in a decent, healthy way. I like your taste …it’s probably way better than mine.”
His girl had fewer inhibitions than he had assumed. “I remember your taste,” he said with a soft groan as his memory tickled his palate, “you were delicious before the bacta went out of hand.” He would still have her on his table, but for tonight, he was content with the plan B she had taken.
“A few hours ago, I was glad I didn’t take the bacta-remover so far.” She jabbed his ribs and tried to ease the mood with gentle teasing, “Constantly wet, fertile and indestructible,” she drew him a box that advertised, “doesn’t that sound good to a Mando’ad who likes to play rough?”
“Maybe… if it didn’t remind me of the infirmary. We’ll get a rid of that after you ran the exercise with Gamma. I want you to be wet with passion for me only.” He pulled her higher on him and settled his face against hers, their limbs intertwined. She was at ease with a part of him he wasn’t himself …and he would love to get used to that. “No need for smelly enhancements. We’ve done it a bit rough at times, but constructively so.” His thick arm sneaked around her and his callous warm hand attached itself to her stomach like it had never been anywhere else.
It had been her who put him in a whole tank filled with the stuff. No wonder he didn’t want to taste bacta after such an experience. It had been attempted homicide, no less. She flinched as a realization came over her. Llats had put it out to her quite clearly. But wrapped up in Jango’s protection she hadn’t reached that level of understanding until she witnessed it herself: Mandalorian justice was swift and brutal. She could have ended right there in the sergeants’ training room in front of that table… laying face down in puddle of her own blood. The mental picture disturbed her and she needed to know, hear him say that she was secure.
“You could have court-martialed me in the night of my return, like Oost.”
Jango groaned low. He had managed to push that out of his mind for the rest of the night. Why did she always need an explanation? His voice took a harsh and commanding air, “I could have. That would have been the expectable move on my part.”
“What will they say since you did not?”
“I AM Mandalore. I uphold the law, but – within limits, like when my own interests are concerned – I can hand out pardon if I choose to.”
“Why did you choose to give me a pass?”
“Because I’m not your second, but your equal - If you can forgive me my transgression, so can I.” he concluded, his tone still gravely. He would put his foot down on any accusation of corruption wherever it came from.
“So that is the answer - Just brazen it out?”
“Yes. Always was.” He gave her a heavy lidded smile.
She understood that he was a man for action, not guilty feelings. “You want to pick up from where you left off?” she offered to take his mind elsewhere.
“Later.” He purred, kicked his feet under the blanket at the foot of the bed, ran a lazy hand up and down her soft flank then pulled her thigh over his waist by the back of her knee. She stopped thinking, sprawled on his heaving chest like an extension of the blanket and listened to his heart pound. Watching him sleep peacefully, his strong, well muscled ribcage expanded and contracted with just a soft snore. She dearly wanted to follow his example, but there was one more thing to do...

Tomoe couldn’t let her sword rust away in its sheath, leave drenched in sea water for just another hour. She knew she lacked the proper tools and supplies; even her yukata was stuck underneath Jango’s sleeping bulk. She rose silently, grabbed his shirt that hung over the chair in front of the computer panel and slid it swiftly over her head for warmth. Her first thought was that she was looking like his slave once again and hoped that nobody would see her. Her second thought was that Jango usually kept his fatigues stored and his room tidy. He must have catered to her preferences when expecting her arrival, but then the incident on the corridor had forced him to armor up in a hurry and answer the door… where she had mistaken his leadership behavior for indifference.
Three nights ago, she had managed to sneak out on him, but now the slight dip of the mattress and the rustling of well-worn fabric were sufficient to wake the bounty hunter. Jango was glad that he got that lapse out of his system at least. “Where do you think you’re going?” he interrupted Tomoe’s strand of thought, his voice quiet and serious as his eyes ran up the length of her pale thighs visible under his blue shirt.
Tomoe padded over on bare feet “I have to maintain my sword before I can go to sleep.” She picked her katana from the nightstand. He sneaked his arm around the back of her legs. The garment… or the lack of it reminded him of happy times when he would have tied her to the bed and be done with detours. “I guess I should feel honored that you attended to mine first,” he huffed in annoyance, but then he got to think of her unrest as a coping mechanism. She really identified with her weapons. “Blade lubricants are in the store, second cubicle on the left side, top shelf,” he informed her matter-of-factly and felt her leg muscles tense against his biceps instantly. “Why so eager to get away from me?” he inquired lazily. – “Not eager to get away, just to get the job done,” she bent down to kiss him briefly, “and to get back into bed with you,” she promised. He tasted her lips then checked the chrono for reference. “Just remember the hour I need to do maintenance on your sheath in the morning, cyar’ika,” Knowing that she would return on her own accord, he let her go and went back to sleep.
With Jango’s direction, Tomoe found the items she required in the store and went for the bathroom quietly. She unsheathed the saber reverently, dried it superficially and put it aside. This would take a complete disassembly. She rinsed the sheath over and over with sweet water, unsure if that would be sufficient to remove the salt from its crevice. Once she thought she could do no more, she wiped it down and placed it on a towel to dry slowly in this cool and air conditioned surroundings. She hoped that the wood would not bend, or that turning it on a regular basis would help to straighten it out. She returned her attention to the hilt, removed the wrapping and pushed the bolts out, removing all mountings.
It felt as bad as being disarmed again; but then, tonight she had come awfully close to losing the precious blade forever. Compared to that, they weren’t doing too badly. “I’m sorry,” she told it nevertheless as she gave the blade a thin layer of smelly Mandalorian lubricant and wrapped it up in a layer of paper to keep it safe until she could reassemble everything. Then she noticed the laundry automat in her back was long done and folded up her dried pants and underwear. Once she had done all she could under the circumstances she returned the supplies to the store and herself to Jango’s bedroom. She sat the wrapped-up blade on the hand rest of the computer panel that was in face of the bed.
Jango didn’t fully wake when she snuggled up to him underneath the blanket; he just slid over and fitted her in underneath his arm with a satisfied grunt. Tugged firmly against the furnace of his chest, the heaviness of solid muscle across her back felt soothing. She would go nowhere and there was no need to move, just sleep.

Jango wasn’t contrite in the morning. With a terrifying single mindedness, he was determined to make love to her. It was still early, but there was no time left to protest or back away. “K’uur…” Tomoe woke but stayed silent as he ran his thumb over her swollen lips. His other hand took hold on the shirt’s hem above her buttocks and pulled it up over her shoulder blades as he pushed her onto her back. He got to his knees and loomed over her with a feral look of passion, admiring her breasts basked in the crescent folds the shirt had formed over her chest. The hour-glass shape of her waist and hips was threadbare already as he leaned into her and rubbed his morning erection against her belly with slow circles.
He had trapped her against the mattress, the dragged-up garment forming a tight band around her chest. She pushed at his broad shoulders to please let her raise and undress; he simply twined his fingers with hers and held their joined hands over her head. He wanted to savor this feeling. He felt close to her, closer than before. She wriggled underneath him until he joined their lips as well, kissing her thoroughly before mouthing his way down her throat. “I’d tear it off,” the unbuttoned collar did not get in his way of tasting and teasing a peeking nipple, “but it’s my favorite shirt you borrowed.”
He shifted his weight off her slightly but kept her underneath him as he divested her from the washed-out garment, entangling her wrists while his palms ran back down to her breasts. She pushed up into his hands and moaned her approval. As he moved his large frame over hers, she opened her legs for him for him to settle in between them.
The insides of her thighs brushed along his ribs like velvet. He moved to feel more of that, smoothing his hands down the sides of her thighs. Catching on to the tender spot in the back of her knees, he lifted both of her ankles up on his shoulders with ease. Her mouth went dry as he urged her against his straining body. He groaned as the expanse of his chest and belly made contact with her smooth, bed-warm skin. ‘So close…’ Fighting the sudden temptation to forego prescription and plunge into her at once, he hoisted her up higher. He felt her pubic hair tickle his stomach, springy like grass. Her moist center tightened with urgency and awareness, but then her rear clenched with anxiety as the vulnerability of her position sunk in.
So there were still remnants of his punishment, the forced initiation he had ordered on her. It reminded him that he had to show her somehow that he reassumed the initiative to give her more pleasure, not pain. “Shhhh…” He stopped his advance, patting her thighs soothingly and kissing the insides of her knees as they rested on his shoulders. He had to soften her up again. Shifting his torso against the velvety back of her legs and buttocks felt divine to him as well. Looking down into her eyes, there was an exchange of trust. Entitled to make use of her enticing flexibility, he withdrew his hips and folded her over further as he grabbed protection from the nightstand. Once he had sheathed himself, he rose on his knees and eased her legs back down his chest to line his manhood comfortably.
He sunk into her womanhood as gently as into warm, dark honey and made himself at home deep inside with quit appreciation. He had initiated that one well, made her fit him like a glove. Now he would make her forget anything and anybody else. Easing up, there was a little resistance, like brushing along a tightly strung cord. He smiled down at her and brushed her nub with his thumb to attune her outsides to his trusts deep inside. He was rewarded with a low moan. Then he started to play. He moved into her with slow flexing strokes. During his display of relaxed but unrelenting stamina, he savored her every squirm on his rod.
Locked underneath him, she had felt vulnerable, but a few rapid heartbeats later his hardness was in to the balls without hurting her in the slightest, while his touch teased her clitoris as light as a feather. He didn’t plan to hurt her; he just knew how she liked to be touched. A shiver ran down her spine, and she tensed around him with the hunger to make the most of the divine sensation he provided. He smiled and kept stroking. Deeply linked with him, she felt that he would do this for as long as it took her to reach her peak of pleasure …and then some more. There was no need to become greedy and rush things. She could truly unwind, flow with him as their bodies fused on their own accord.
Deeply immersed, Jango enjoyed her low moans of pleasure and the fact that she had given up all resistance to him, had accepted his power and prowess as the leader of their pack as well as her lover. Moving with her was effortless and recreational and he didn’t want it to stop. Grasping for his knees, she adjusted her legs briefly to avoid cramping and in response he slid his hips in a lazy circle. There was no telling if he expanded or if she tightened, they where one and every tug and push added to their excitement until the intense pleasure they had piled up shook her body and she came long and hard. Finally he allowed himself to drive into her with short lightning fast stabs until his orgasm burst over his senses. His neck corded as he poured his essence into her shuddering body.
When he stopped moving inside her clenching pussy, she lay underneath him feeling like a puddle after the melt-down. He gently allowed her ankles to slide off his shoulders. Patting his knees she pleaded in low voice, “Come cover me.” She had felt a faint line under her palm where her bes’kad had bitten into the muscle. That was just one of his collection of scars, part of them her own fault. Nevertheless he was a gorgeous sight and she wanted, needed to feel all of him against her, holding her and excluding the rest of the world for just a little longer.
He relaxed his weight on her small frame gradually until he was balanced over her on just his elbows and looked down with a sheepish grin. He didn’t need to ask to know if he had done well. Still flushed, she huffed “Maintenance, you call that?” and wished she wouldn’t have to get up. “You were very thorough,” she concluded. He took it as a compliment “I want you to remember… this is how our kids have been made,” he shifted his hips lazily. “Wait, I’m in pieces!” she tried to still him, “you’ve got to put me back together somehow.”
“Just checking.” Finally daring to slant over her with his full weight, he closed her lips with his, his fingers entwining in her heavy black tresses, smoothing her hair over the mattress, tugging gently. Still kissing her, his fingertips moved to brush down her hackles and stroke the back of her neck with little circles. Unhurried, he moved his exploration over her shoulders and upper arms. When she felt him withdrawing, she arched up against his rising belly. “Gotcha,” he smirked down at her, “not so boneless anymore.” His fingers intermeshed with hers, then his grasp tightened and he pulled her up on his lap to start today’s to-do-list. “Shower. Get dressed properly. At Fall-in, we’ve got to present Gamma Company their new Sarge.”
“You’re kidding,” she had hoped that a few hours sleep had put him back in what she considered his right mind.
“You’ll get help. Besides I’ve heard how you recruited Vau for Gamma’s full range exercise.” His hands had been on her backside before, but now his grasp became as apparent as his unblinking stare.
Tomoe squared her shoulders. “You’ve heard it all.”
Jango dropped the issue but not his hold on her rear as he lifted her off the bed and moved to carry her over to the bathroom, overriding her struggles with ease. “Furthermore, I will adjust schedules and send others to get you started on a sarge’s daily chores. They will assist you in the exercises Gamma Company takes additionally to flash instructions,” he continued matter-of-factly
“Don’t you have a sense of modesty?” Tomoe inquired in low voice once he kicked the door shut behind him. – “What’s that to do with Gamma?” he dropped her to her feet in the shower stall with a slightly confused expression. – “We’were lucky, but Boba tends to be up and about early.” – “Oh, that. Never mind. Boba has seen you naked before.” – “Not like that… just in the bath.” – “And in a shower - on your own accord.” – “But we…” – “C’mon, he isn’t deaf or dump. That sort of education never did me any harm when I was a kid.” – “Didn’t your parents value their privacy?”
“Growing up in a canvas-covered burrow you are informed of the facts of life on the way,” Jango shrugged and adjusted the water’s temperature.
Tomoe then realized that neither of them was really at home in a spacious and sterile facility like Tipoca City. She remembered what he had told her about his childhood, the death of his parents and adoptive father. Compared to what he must have gone through as a mercenary child soldier, she had lived in a secluded luxury refuge. She could have kicked herself, but saying ‘sorry’ now could be mistaken as false pity. “All I ask for is a little more discretion when it comes to the sexual aspect of nakedness… just let me cover up before we leave the room.” She decided to clarify what her need was and to learn about another cultural aspect, “What is expected of me among your people?”
He nodded and made a mental note while he considered briefly the custom, “Stick with your designated partner, keep the blanket over your hips, don’t moan loader than the loudest snoring inside. It’s a natural but a private thing – folks simply don’t look or comment,” he summed up.
That the Mandalorian armor and helmet left no skin bare had nothing to do with overblown modesty. Walking around in fatigues was considered a state of undress, but in a way of not being a ready, fit or grown up. Nakedness that meant vulnerability didn’t add to the sex-appeal… unless one counted the attraction of a dominant predator to a designated victim. The ability to fight and defend made big part of what a Mandalorian considered sexy. “I understand.” She inclined her head, and then smiled, remembering how much he liked to exceed those cultural limitations …especially in the privacy of his ship.
“By the way, I enjoy you getting load.” Glad he had made her smile again, Jango briefly considered how that liking was connected to truly owning the place in which he made her his as well. Which brought him back to his to-do-list “After dinner, I’ll have a look at Oost’s apartment. Clear it out for you.” – “For me?” – “Yes. Being a sergeant comes with certain privileges. The small room with the minimum fresher unit you had so far was meant for clone officers who continue to use the shower- and laundry facilities of their units,” he explained, then chipped in a reminder of his higher aim for good measure “Unless you are ready to move in with Boba and me, that is.”
Tomoe considered carefully. Some people had expected her to move in with Jango right away. The fact she did not was probably an aspect that triggered Oost attempt on her life. But she wouldn’t be bullied into something that forestalled their very own and heartfelt decision. “I’ll move in once we are ready to take the vows,” she confirmed “I still have much to learn.” She washed herself down with speedy efficiency “I need to drop by at my place to get dressed and arm up properly.”
Boba ambled in with a yawn, still wearing his pajamas. Good mornings were exchanged. He just took it for granted that Tomoe was around.
“I still expect your return visit tonight,” Jango reminded Tomoe and bargained, “last night was shortened too much to count.” Now it was Tomoe’s place to smile and nod.
“Care to tell me what that ruckus was about?” Boba inquired “You weren’t even there when I finally decided to come looking”
Jango exited the shower and grabbed a towel, throwing Tomoe one as well. “Oost attempted to murder Tomoe on her way back here. I’ve got him arrested, court martialed and executed.”
“You could have left me a note, dad.” Boba bent over the washbasin to slap cold water into his face. He just crossed out another irrelevant being in his mind. Night-time attacks on his mom continued to be routine as well as unhealthy.
“I’ll, but I hope there won’t be a next time.” Jango went to shave and shooed Boba out “Get dressed and don’t forget your running shoes.”
Tomoe put on her white underwear shirt, pants and belt. Her long sword was still in disassembly and unless she asked Boba to borrow out the short sword she had presented him, her naginata and Dred’s hold-out blaster would have to do. When she passed Jango, she grabbed at his backside. He jumped most satisfyingly as she got him back for so many teases. He even blushed when she squeezed his ass affectionately.
“What’s wrong with your butt? Did it slip your notice you have a nice one?” she winked and was on her way to her own place. At Fall-in, they would team up again.
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Offshore Job