no subject

[ She might be more of a mess now than she was when he started cleaning her up — sitting there with her legs open, skin glistening with wetness from his mouth and her own arousal, barely kept to some remote standard of modesty by nothing but her bra and that damn bacta patch. There's still a tiny bit of her cigarette left too — enough for her to lift to her lips and get one good pull off of before she flicks the stub aside. Her voice is low and warm and lazy when she answers in a wisp of smoke: ]

I know you do.

[ Her reciprocation remains unspoken. Instead, she leans forward to nudge his hand aside with her foot before he can get too far. ]

Hey. You wanna save that for me, hot shot?