SW Gray Tales: Interlude

A/N: Sorry for the late update. I had been rewriting the chapters a bit and that took more time than expected.
BTW this is not the chapter, the chapter would come after this one.

Its just that I thought that people would be fatigued of NSFW sensual content after 2 long long chapters of it, that's why the next chapter (which you might be able to guess after reading this one) I have written in a different style entirely, focused more on comedic beats rather than sensuality as the original draft of the chapter had taken form of.

i will post the comedic beats one as the offiicial chapter, whereas for any interested patrons in the sensual version of it, I would upload that too as an option read.

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[Vasha's POV]

Vasha exhaled as the fresher door hissed shut behind her, the steam curling around her ankles like a guilty thought. She leaned against the hallway wall, the cool plastoid a shock against her still-damp skin. Kriff. That kid's hands were witchcraft. Every knot, every ache from hauling scrap—gone. Melted away like cheap solder under a blowtorch.

She'd agreed to let him do it again.

The memory of Ezra's bright, hopeful eyes flashed in her mind. "Can we do this again sometime? You work so hard…" Stars, how could she say no? He was just a kid trying to help. A kid who didn't understand why her breath hitched when his thumb grazed her nipple, or why her muscles locked when his fingers brushed… elsewhere.

It's fine, she told herself firmly, pushing off the wall and padding barefoot toward the bedroom. Just gotta steer those magic fingers clear of the… sensitive zones next time. Easy. He was oblivious. Sweetly, mercifully oblivious.

She sank onto the edge of the bed, the thin mattress creaking. The deep, liquid ease he'd worked into her muscles was still there, a luxurious counterpoint to the sudden, restless thrum under her skin. It wasn't him. Couldn't be. It was the damn relaxation. Letting her guard down for the first time in… how long? Years?

A dry, humorless laugh escaped her. Twenty-seven next rotation. Virgin. Never even held hands romantically. Back on Ryloth, it was survival—protecting her siblings, dodging slavers. Then the dockyards: grease, exhaustion, and the constant hum of engines drowning out anything resembling desire. Her body had been a tool, a thing to push until it broke. Pleasure? A luxury for people with time and credits.

Now? Now she had a fraction of both, thanks to the kid. And her traitorous body, finally unchained from pure survival mode, was waking up. Demanding attention. The warmth pooling low in her belly wasn't about Ezra's touch. It was about years of silence finally screaming to be heard.

Guilt prickled, sharp and familiar. Ezra. That brilliant, terrifying mind. He should be in some Coruscant academy, dazzling professors, not playing mechanic in a scrap shop. Every time she'd tentatively floated the idea—"Kid, with your head, you could…"—he'd shut it down like a blown fuse. His insistence on staying… it did things to her insides. Warm, complicated things.(not sexual!!)

A soft thump came from the fresher. Ezra. Still in there. Good. She had minutes. Maybe.

Her hand drifted down, fingertips skimming the soft skin of her inner thigh—not where his fingers had brushed, but higher. The wet touch sparked a low, insistent ache. Kriff.

Neglect had consequences, apparently. She squeezed her eyes shut. Later. When he was dead asleep. Deep, dreamless sleep. Like always.

She hoped to every forgotten Twi'lek goddess she hadn't left her lone, discreet vibro-massager in the cracked drawer of her old apartment. It was going to be a long night.

And Ezra was a heavy sleeper anyway. (A/N: I think not jajaaj)