Kris Rietsveld | The Damsel (thecorrupt) wrote in thegalaxy, @ 2016-05-03 10:06:00 |
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Entry tags: | !locale: coruscant, !locale: space, kaz brekker, sinjir fel |
and i'm floating in a most peculiar way
Who: Kaz & Sinjir.
What: Kaz takes Sinjir for a spin on the Dirty Hands so Sinjir can, uh, inspect his, uh, ship.
When: idk a few days after this thread?
Where: Coruscant and then spaaaaaaaaaaaaaace.
Rating: PG?
Though in no attempt to prove his integrity, Kaz contacted Sinjir and invited him aboard his refurbished Firespray-31 named Dirty Hands as a show of good faith in their proposed business dealings. The ship was a source of pride for Kaz; he had taken his time in choosing a vessel, reading and researching as much as he was able before making a selection. Even then, finding the dilapidated ship that would become his had been a stroke of chance.
He'd found the Firespray-31 in the Hutt system junkyard (the details regarding the acquisition of his ship were something he was lax to explain to the Bha'lir Council), buying the defunct starship and working to bring it around almost entirely himself. The thing had originally been named Firebird and painted red, as though the previous owner had great plans that had been dashed for one reason or another. Kaz had bargained it down to far below what the smuggler who had gotten his hands on it was attempting to sell it for. Before the sun had set that day on Tatooine, Kaz found himself the proud owner of a pile of junk.
It took five years to piece it back together, but the Hands was something that would advertise Kaz's profession and standing in the Bha'lir. He knew that he and the ship were kindred spirits, both enjoying a legend of sorts, even if his was back home in the Barrel. He was always on the lookout for additional modifications for the vessel, but was pleased with its current operation. Even with a cleaner gunmetal coloring, the ship still looked like it was prone to falling apart, but Kaz knew it was fully functional. It was much like how Coruscant felt to him; a reflection of his person.
He waited aboard, sitting in the pilot's chair as he waited for Sinjir, his gloved hands moving through the easy motions for pre-flight settings. The sideways positioning of the cockpit was a familiar feeling for him as he leaned back against the chair. He seemed otherwise alone, though the docking bay was by no means empty; various workers moved about, fulfilling unknowable tasks. They were a strange looking lot, though no stranger than anything else found on Coruscant. Kaz knew each and every one of them, and a handful were part of his regular crew. For this particular instance, though, they were as good as on leave, though they were prepared to jump into any fray at a moment's notice.
Sinjir wended his way through them, briefly studying those he passed before turning his attention to the ship before him. The ship was a more unexpected sight than any of the people milling around it; though Sinjir had read about the ancient model, he had never seen one up close. It was difficult to suppress a smile -- for this and other reasons, if Sinjir was honest with himself.
He took the gangplank into the ship at a lazy lope, but his searching gaze as he entered the ship betrayed him. He was unfathomably curious about his surroundings. The deeper he moved into the ship the happier he grew. He reached the cockpit and peered inside, one hand curled around the doorframe to steady himself as he observed the strange alignment of the seats.
"Well I have to admit something," Sinjir said. "When you said what you flew, I didn't really believe you. This is unreal."
Kaz glanced away from the controls, a smile appearing unbidden on his face. He motioned to the copilot seat next to him, inviting Sinjir further into the ship. Sinjir carefully picked his way through the cockpit, grasping for the seat the moment it was within reach. He was visibly uncomfortable with the layout, but his discomfort was quickly and easily overwhelmed by his enthusiasm.
"You don't achieve the rank of pilot in the Bha'lir on merit alone," he replied with no small amount of pride, his eyes returning to the processes he'd been implementing. Small slits in his gloves allowed him enough purchase to know which keys and switches he was flipping. Most of what he was running were diagnostics, readouts telling him that everything was in working order. He glanced back at Sinjir with a wider grin, feeling more at home and in his element than he had at the pub.
"You ready?"
"Born ready," Sinjir said. He squirmed back into the seat, staring up into the smooth window of the cockpit. Then he glanced over to the pilot, allowing himself a moment to simply appreciate the steady confidence and grace of Kaz's hands playing over familiar controls. "You're like a different person in here, you know that? You almost look like you're having fun."
Kaz had to admit, he felt more relaxed. Another switch, and the gangplank folded into the ship to create a seal over the entry way. The engines powered to life, and the ship began to rise.
"It helps when you feel in control of the situation," he replied, underlining his meaning by lifting the ship further and righting it, turning the cockpit to where they could see straight out the viewscreen and over the expanse of Coruscant's horizon before them. Kaz paused for a moment, drinking it in, before they rose through the atmosphere of yellow, letting the color disintegrate as they moved into the black. It wasn't long before they were leaving the planet's outer atmosphere, a series of blinking directional lights left in their wake.
Leaning back in his seat, Kaz let his eyes rove over the absence of anything in the path before them. He looked at Sinjir. "The ship. Thoughts?"
Sinjir arched a brow. "Just about the ship?" he teased. "It's really something. A smoother ride than I expected. I assumed a relic like this would be… clunkier. But then, I suspect you've done a lot of work to it, too." He leaned forward, peering over the controls and out into the void. "It's rare I get to see things from this position. I'm usually exiled to the cargo hold or some claustrophobic coffin they call living quarters."
Kaz's grin widened. "I'm glad you find the position agreeable. The cargo hold is pretty spacious, though, if it's too tight in here." Kaz usually found himself alone there, flying solo or with a small complement of crew members. They were always in other areas of the ship, either securing cargo or ensuring that bounties were comfortable in their cells. "There're five cells too, so you have options.
"I had to put this thing back together almost from scratch. Not as detailed work as what you're used to, and I doubt I could do it again, but..." He tapped a few buttons and switches, bringing the ship to a slow crawl. "It was worth it." He sat back in his seat, enjoying the view both in front and beside him.
"It certainly was." Sinjir mirrored Kaz's motion, settling back to watch his host more closely. "I could probably teach you the finer work if you wanted. If you can restore this thing you already have a good baseline understanding of the concepts to work from. Some of the skill set, too. I mean, it definitely seems like you're good with your hands."
Kaz arched a brow at Sinjir's comments, a soft laugh escaping his throat. "I like to think I'm very good with my hands, but I suppose that's a matter of opinion." He thought of all his hands had done -- aching for a ribbon in a girl's hair, fumbling through a magician's magic tricks, lifting a rock to smash it against another boy's skull. He licked his lips, hoping his thoughts didn't show through his eyes.
Sinjir's smile faded only a little at the distant look in Kaz's eye. He was quickly coming to read this as a sign of territory upon which he was neither invited nor welcome. The urge to pry was strong, but he tamped it down for the time being. Instead he set his mind on distraction, falling back on methods familiar and comfortable.
"It always is," Sinjir said. "But I can only speak to what I've observed so far. I need further evidence before I can say I'm sure."
That brought Kaz back into the present, an amused look on his face. One hand came to rest on his knee, flexing in its glove, his suit jacket providing a protective barrier up the length of his arm to his shoulder.
"And what kind of evidence are you looking for?"
He had a good idea of what Sinjir was getting at, but his body -- his hands, his arms -- were of a different opinion. He remembered the look on Inej's face on the boat coming back from Fjerda; he remembered his own want, and his inability to express it. Here, dancing on the knife's edge, here was safe, but he knew it wouldn't be enough.
Sinjir turned in his seat to face Kaz almost squarely. "Proof you're actually good with delicate work," he said. "You can start by taking those gloves off. One spark in the wrong place at the wrong time can cause serious problems, you know." Then, true to form, Sinjir found the line and bounded over it. "But that's just the start. Lots of evidence, thoroughly validated. It's better if I just show you. You mentioned something about cells earlier. That does sound interesting..."
The smile on Kaz's face lessened, looking more like amusement at a personal, bitter joke than truly enjoying where this whole situation was going. He'd obviously thought -- or rather, fooled himself into thinking -- that the situation might go some other way. It was always easier talking about business, sticking to the rules, keeping careful, straight lines when it came to others. Easy banter was one thing, but now his bluff was being called.
"I can work with the gloves," he replied, trying to keep the humor in his voice and failing. This -- he, Sinjir -- was far more direct than anything he'd experienced in the past. It was strange, to think he'd moved past these ridiculous quirks, and here he was, being found wanting.
"Don't be so grim," Sinjir said. A small frown curved his lips. "You're the last person who should be self conscious. Unless you have venomous claws under there we're good to go. And, I mean, even then I'm sure we can work around it."
Kaz laughed darkly. "You wouldn't be the first to assume there's something wrong with them." One hand came up and wiped at his mouth as though he'd remove the terrible feeling crawling up his skin through the gesture. Suddenly the cockpit was so very small, and Sinjir was too close. Their legs were an inch apart from merely brushing, and warring desires fought for supremacy in his mind. It was such a short distance to reach out and touch, and at the same time it was too horribly near.
"Who said venomous claws are wrong?" His eyes followed the motion of Kaz's fingers. He read Kaz's hesitation as nothing more than nerves; it struck him as unnecessary, but certainly not insurmountable. He was grinning again, hoping his own buoyancy might help set his companion at ease. "Just planning for protection. You know." He shrugged. "But it's okay. Keep the gloves on if you want. They look good on you, anyway. And it's kinda kinky, too."
Kaz made no verbal reply, instead too busy trying to sort out the feeling of the walls closing in. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Opening them again, he looked at Sinjir -- looked through him, maybe, but didn't meet his eyes -- and slowly turned his body toward the other man. He made sure to not let that one leg move too close or touch Sinjir's; instead he focused on keeping his body close but not that close. One hand was wrapped around the edge of his seat. He sat for a minute, as though thinking about his next move when he was really trying to coax himself to continue with the short and simple plan he'd concocted.
Slowly, he reached forward, and put his hands palms down on Sinjir's knees. The touch was so light, it almost seemed like he was forcing his hands to a flame. Sinjir did not move beneath his hands, though everything in him ached to do so.
"That's a good start," he teased. An off-kilter smile quirked his lips. "You okay, Kaz? This isn't your first time or something, is it?" He reached for Kaz's hand, fingers skimming over the back of his glove. His eyes never left the other man's. "I mean, it's okay if it is. I'm just trying to figure out why you kind of look like you're in front of a redjacket nest."
Kaz's eyes dropped to Sinjir's fingers on his hands; he closed his eyes, letting out a shuddering breath, and then pulled his hands back. Sinjir did not withdraw even a fraction, but he did not press forward as he wanted, either.
"You could say it's something like that," Kaz replied, his voice flat. He silently berated himself, clenching his jaw before passing a hand through a lock of hair that had fallen in front of his face. Sinjir followed this motion, too, hungry still. "I'm assuming this isn't what you thought would happen."
Sinjir shrugged. "No. But honestly -- and this might surprise you -- so far I actually like your company. Even clothed." He chuckled; Kaz managed a wry smile. "I'm not trying to push you into anything. We'd have a good time together, that's all. And if it takes a while to convince you of that, okay." He shifted in his seat, moving the slightest bit closer, though he made no move to touch Kaz again. "Can I at least ask what's got you rattled? If there's something I can do..."
"It's not you," Kaz replied, his voice low. "Well, it is, but not in the way you might think. It's...complicated." As though to add some control back into the situation, Kaz leaned forward and hit a few switches; the Hands surged forward at a faster speed. He looped it around so that Coruscant came back into the viewscreen. He brought the ship to a stop, as though he decided against whatever decision had been floating in his mind moments before. Leaning back against the seat once more, he fixed his gaze on what was outside of the cockpit rather than what was in it.
"I guess I haven't dealt with any of this as well as I thought I had. Ten years...it seems like a long time, but apparently I was fooling myself." He was distant again, lost in his thoughts. He shook his head, glancing at Sinjir. "Back in the Barrel...when I was younger, I had a brother. Jordie. We'd moved there after our father died. Jordie thought he was doing right, selling our farm and trying to build a business in trade.
"We were young, and stupid. Easy marks. This man who acted like a father figure, like he was going to take care of us, swindled us for everything we had." His explanation was slow, words chosen carefully. The explanation was simple, but it was clear that it was difficult for Kaz to keep talking as pauses broke up his sentences.
"We were left in the street. We got sick -- a plague came through the Barrel -- and Jordie died. I was...eight? I can't remember." Kaz's eyes picked something other than Sinjir's face to focus on. "They'd thought I'd died too. They collected us both, put us and all the other victims on a barge to float out to sea. But I wasn't dead." He said it as though he were trying to convince himself of the fact.
"I swam back to shore. I didn't know how to swim, but...Jordie helped. In his own way. Bodies float, at least for awhile." He swallowed hard, glancing back to the viewscreen, then down at his gloved hands which he splayed in front of himself palms up. "Ever since, it's been difficult to deal with others. Believe me, I want to. I just...can't."
Sinjir's eyes moved from Kaz's face to his hands and back again. He drew his lip between his teeth, worrying at it as he thought. It was rare he struggled for words, and rarer still he considered what he said before he spoke. But this was no situation for which Sinjir was prepared. War was simple in this way: There was always a clear enemy to blame, a clear means of retaliation. This was something altogether different.
"I don't know," Sinjir said. "I think you should give yourself more credit. Those kinds of things leave awful scars on people. And you were so young. Something like that, I understand pushing it away instead of really confronting it." He shook his head. "Still, I don't think you can't. If you really want to 'deal' with people, whatever that means to you, you can learn how. I'd say you should learn how. That's how you move forward."
Sinjir moved closer to the edge of his seat. He hesitated only a moment, then brought his hand to lightly rest on Kaz's thigh. "I can help," he said, flashing a brief and hesitant smile. "I'm really good at this."
Kaz's eyes tracked Sinjir's touch, a slight, trembling out a sigh. His brows moved up, down, his face canting to the side in agreement. "Yeah, I can believe that." He let the hand linger, gaze moving up to Sinjir's face. He bit his bottom lip and brought his fingers to brush along the man's jawline. At once Sinjir tipped his head toward his hand. He gave Kaz's leg a little squeeze.
Then he shifted again, turning his head to press a quick kiss to Kaz's gloved fingertips, his eyes on Kaz's all the while. "Tell me what you want," he said. "Anything I can do, I'll do. Short of leaving you alone, I mean." He grinned, and kissed Kaz's hand again.
"I think that would be very hard to do in this tight space," Kaz replied quietly, pressing his hand more firmly against Sinjir's cheek. One thumb traced along the man's lower lip. He was trying so hard to not connect the feeling of Sinjir's living flesh to that of his dead brothers'; Kaz could feel the heat of Sinjir's body even through his leather glove. "Touch me," he continued, his voice low and heavy. "Move your hand up." He scooted forward incrementally, adding action to the request to encourage a response.
The rough edge slowly creeping into Kaz's voice put a new warmth in Sinjir's belly. He sighed softly against Kaz's hand, lips parting on supple leather. He watched Kaz's face as he splayed his fingers over his leg, as his hand followed the muscled plane of that black-clad thigh. He paused only a moment, still searching Kaz's face for any sign he should stop. His fingers brushed lightly over him at first, feeling the heat of him through crisp clothes. His fingers closed around Kaz's length, tightening with one small, exploratory stroke. The touch made Kaz harden, reacting as any body would to such stimuli.
Kaz's other hand came around and snatched Sinjir's wrist, pulling his fingers away. His head dipped forward, eyes half lidded, mouth incrementally closer.
"Fuck," he whispered, his gritty voice lengthening the word. His jaw clenched. "Maybe... Maybe something else." He tightened his grip on Sinjir's wrist, raising his gaze to the other man's mouth. Breath coming faster, he leaned forward and brushed his lips gently against Sinjir's. The skin there barely made contact, but touch it did.
Sinjir's eyes were bright, a clear reflection of the smile he did not dare allow on his lips. His body stirred at the tight grip on his wrist, and again at the feather-light press of Kaz's mouth. Each small progression was a pleasant kind of torture: the little death by excruciatingly slow degrees. He leaned into the tenuous kiss, deepening it. His tongue traced the swell of Kaz's lower lip.
Kaz pushed his head forward, tongue rising up to meet Sinjir's as his hand on the other man's face gripped a little tighter. His thumb moved down to Sinjir's chin, fixing him in place, as he sent his own tongue scrawling along the other man's mouth in response. He was warm, so warm, enough that it nearly pushed the thought of being buried alive from his mind. Kaz pulled back, a shaking sigh escaping from his mouth.
His fingers worked around Sinjir's wrist, feeling the muscle and bone beneath the skin; Sinjir responded with a quiet, clipped moan. The sensation made Kaz shudder in mixed ways, his body confused on how to respond. The sounds coming out of Sinjir confused him further, though he wanted nothing more than to see how to make him make the sounds again. His mind was caught up in rejection, while his body wanted more.
For the moment, he pressed his forehead to the man across from him, his eyes closed. "Still enjoying my company?"
"More than you know. At some point I'm gonna show you just how much. And I have to say, you taste just as good as I thought you would." Sinjir kissed the tip of Kaz's nose. His eyes flicked down to the gloved hand around his wrist. "And those… I'm definitely enjoying those more than I thought I would." He laughed and kissed one perfect, high cheekbone, his lips sweeping over dark stubble. "And you? Is this… all right?"
Kaz shuddered back a hair, releasing Sinjir's wrist. "It's...frustrating." He pulled back further, bringing his hand away from Sinjir's face as he reclaimed some much needed breathing room. It didn't help that the way Sinjir smelled permeated the tight area of the cockpit, making Kaz feel a little delirious. His eyes met Sinjir's, a mix of want and misery tinged his gaze; a smile affixed itself to the side of his mouth. "Not entirely in a bad way."
Sinjir laughed again. "You really know how to prolong foreplay," he said. "Also not entirely in a bad way. It'll be all the better when I finally do get you out of those clothes." His skin burned where Kaz had touched it; he could still feel the pressure of each finger around his wrist, and the firm press of Kaz's thumb to his chin. He shifted in his seat, one hand moving to adjust his persistent, untended arousal. "So have you really never been with anyone? Or is it just about getting comfortable again after... all that."
Kaz's gaze became appraising. "Is that important?"
"Morally? No. Of course not. But practically it means I'd want to change my focus a little. I mean, look. If I'm your first, or your first experience that isn't total shit, I want to work that much harder to be sure you enjoy it. I just want to know what we're working with, is all." A faint smile flickered across his lips, there and quickly gone. "And I mean. It's a little surprising. No offense."
One brow arched, Kaz's expression remained unchanging. "How so?"
"Are you kidding?" Sinjir gestured at him. "You look like this. And you sound like that. You were built to get laid. You could have anyone you wanted. Any time you wanted."
A flash of embarrassment crossed Kaz's face, and his discomfort flared up. "It hasn't been a priority. In the Barrel, I was too focused on what had happened to Jordie to worry about..." A hand rose up, swirling a gesture of unconcern. "And then when I came here, I was starting all over."
He put his hands in his lap. "Getting trashed helps, but it's not a crutch I like to lean on too often. Leads to too many other problems. I focus on my work, and that's been enough."
Sinjir nodded, but a frown was tugging at one corner of his mouth. A small furrow marred his brow. "I get that. I wouldn't want to see you rely on booze, but… there's more out there than work. And I say that as a man who deeply loves his job."
He reached out, tracing a single fingertip over one of Kaz's hands. "You don't need to be self conscious. About this or anything."
Kaz watched Sinjir's touch, neither discouraging or encouraging the motion. For the moment, he didn't feel like insects were crawling all over his skin. Slowly, he closed his fingers like a flower folding its bloom, pulling Sinjir's hand down.
"You're certainly willing to put up with a lot of shit to get what you want."
"You have no idea." Sinjir laughed. He slid the pad of his thumb over Kaz's hand, grateful for even that small and likely fleeting touch. "But this isn't shit. This is you actually opening up a little, and me helping you cope. Seems like a good deal to me."
Kaz made a small sound in his throat, eyes still on Sinjir's hand wrapped in his own as though he were waiting for something to change, something to happen. He chewed the inside of one cheek. Finally, he glanced up at Sinjir. "If the rest of the Resistance is like you, I can't imagine how the First Order is making as much headway as it is." Sinjir grinned in answer.
He released Sinjir's hand, turning instead to the controls. "We should get back to Coruscant. I have a shipment coming in soon, something I want to handle in person." His fingers seemed to hesitate, drawing the moment out longer. Then they finally descended, propelling the Hands into motion.
Sinjir nodded. He slid back into his seat, smoothing his hands over his thighs as he did. For a moment he watched Coruscant rise in the viewscreen, but in short order his attention returned to his companion. He studied his face, his posture, searching for any hint as to what note they would end their short trip on.
"Thanks for this," he said. "It was a nice change of pace. It's good to see you in your element. And my offer stands. If you want me to teach you some of the work that I do, just let me know."
Kaz's attention remained on the controls and the viewscreen for a moment. He brought the Hands into line with proper landing protocol for Coruscant.
"I'd like that," he said, glancing at Sinjir with the ghost of a smile on his face. "Or grabbing another round, this time on me. We certainly still have plenty of business discussions to get through."
"We certainly do." Sinjir's smile broadened; the square of his shoulders softened. He seemed visibly relieved. He shifted in his seat, almost boyishly excited. The skyline of Coruscant approached, but his eyes and his racing thoughts were both solidly on the pilot. "I'll try to stay focused next time. For at least a little while."