God knows, I am dissonance...

[kallig]

Characters: Altair Kallig (kallig) & Satinvaas Kallig (redsector)
Summary: Sometimes cuddles are necessary.
Warnings: To be determined.

[Sometimes the only way to avoid more stress is to pile supplies into the Fury, have her refueled, mute any incoming holocalls, and disappearing into wide open space. It's in times like these- when everyone needs him to do something or other and won't leave him to the work that actually needs to be done- that Altair thinks he understands Andronikos the most. There is a silence and a peace here that can't really be found anywhere else- even though he does miss the sound of rain against windows and thunder in the distance.

Admittedly Altair hadn't expected to have Satin along for the ride.

Of course, he doesn't mind. Just as the silence is a comfort, so is Satin's presence, that deep ocean of darkness that is ever so welcoming.

And thanks to Satin, his kind-of, sort-of vacation is actually just that- and not another instance of him working himself to his absolute limit and finding himself waking on the Fury's cold floor in the mornings after an involuntary nap. The Empire needs him, of course. Needs both of them. So it's not like Altair neglects his work. But he's also selfishly taking advantage of the other Sith's presence- in the form of getting to bed on a somewhat more regular schedule.

This night, however, is the first where he's actually planned to get completely comfortable, rather than just stumbling to bed and curling up next to Satin without much of another thought in mind than sleep. Lingerie over coming to bed dressed in an oversized shirt- something soft and white and lacy.

He's quiet as he slips into the bedroom, headed for the bed- the other Sith might, after all, already be asleep and if he is, then Altair doesn't want to rouse him from well-deserved rest.

If he's awake, of course, then he might just need to demand a cuddle. Selfish of him, really. But Satin will just have to put up with it.]

Comments

[redsector]

[ The Empire doesn't, truly, need either of them. To Satin's perspective, it had trudged along in its rotting, desiccated way before their emergence to power, and it would continue to do so in their absence. But he doesn't begrudge Altair's desire to cure the beast - his dedicated attempt to convert hard work and personal responsibility into a tangible collective improvement, endearing as it is bemusing. He simply has no compunction against following his whims wherever and whenever suits him, and in this case it means leaving his work to his apprentices while he imposes his company and his own ideas of recuperation upon his fellow Councilor's self-styled sort-of vacation.

Altair seems in part to be humoring him, and in part eager to use the distraction of his presence to justify taking a more tempered approach to his work pace than he would usually permit himself. Comfortable enough to find Satin when he needs it - to sleep beside him in the warmth of his bed rather than working himself to exhaustion - without having to be coaxed into it, but not enough to take himself away entirely. Imperfect, but not intolerable. Satin has yet to have to coerce him away from any object of his focus, and in the end he has his own reasons for seeking out and sharing this relative solitude.

Altair brought the Empire with him, but Satin is looking beyond it.

Space makes him thoughtful, the senses that he often keeps coiled at his core spreading out to brush against the distant harmonizing of threads across the galaxy. To feel them whisper, humming under his touch. It is usually this that occupies him when he isn't waiting on Altair; less he sleeps and more often he spends hours listening to the songs in the Force, because he knows without knowing that there is something there to be heard. Something to follow further when he finds time for it, when there isn't a war or politics clamoring to grasp him.

Satin's consciousness is drifting, aimless, but fortunately Altair needn't demand anything. He begins to settle on the bed and the trap springs, a languid shift from the outward reach of senses into an arm wrapping around his waist to pull him back against the larger Sith. A brief rumble of contentment as he twines blankets around them both and then presses his cheek into a cool shoulder, sighing against soft skin before the texture of the lace catches up with his thoughts and he trails curious fingertips over the garment. Delicate. His nail follows a length of ribbon down to the lower edge, tracing the fall of the lace over the fine arch of the man's ribs. ]

Where have you been hiding this?

[ Teasing, affectionate. It is after all quite far from the oversized shirts and borderline prudish robes he's come to regard as Altair's comfortwear. His hand slips beneath the fabric. ]

[kallig]

[A soft yelp escapes him as he's pulled back, that turns to a quiet and breathy laugh at the press of Satin's cheek against his shoulder, his warmth against his own much cooler skin. Had it not been for the way Satin's fingertips trace along the soft lace of his lingerie, he would have rolled over so he could cuddle up to him properly and bury his face against Satin's chest in his own selfish desire to be close.

Instead he obediently stays still, a soft sigh escaping him at fingers trailing over his ribs, along with a slight shudder, and he can feel his face heat up some, that purple blush a bit more pronounced than usual.

But he doesn't mind. Not even if Satin sees it.] Not hiding so much as not finding a good time to wear it until now.

[He turns his head to look at the other man, and smiles- rather flirtatiously, at that.] Are you surprised?