Archive of Our Own ^beta

Syril had done the impossible, not just rescuing Dedra on Ferrix and getting her off planet, but now stood in ISB headquarters, giving testimony to Major Partagaz of what had happened on that fateful day. Later, Dedra found him waiting outside ISB headquarters. He had hoped that this time, even if just this once, she might be fine with seeing him.

If Dedra was surprised to see him there, she made no sign of it. Instead, she surprised him by asking him to walk with her.

“You’ll receive a promotion,” she said, her voice low. “In service to the Empire. But in truth I do—“ she fumbled with the words “I do owe you for what you said in there.”

Syril stopped and looked closely at her. “Everything I said was the truth.” And he had told the truth of it. Dedra’s incompetent underlings ruined everything, Supervisor Meero salvaged the best of the poor decisions made by those who needlessly escalated the situation.

For Syril would never lie to her and he knew Dedra would never lie to him.

*

Syril was shocked when she invited him to dinner, then back to her place afterwards. Over some expensive wine they talked on her sofa, each inching closer to the other, as if daring the other to make a move. He wanted to be brave, but he had promised to always be honest. Finally he blurted: “I haven’t, Dedra, I—”

”We’ll take it slow then,” she said, interrupting him with a small smile.

Syril desperately wanted to pleasure her so he did all manner of research, short of actually visiting a brothel. He reckoned she was likely as inexperienced as he, based on her visibly recoiling that day when he’d first grabbed her arm, and he longed to touch her gently and softly now. And eventually that evening came, though she insisted the lights be turned out. He would have killed the power to the entire planet of Coruscant if she’d asked.

Syril told her as much, and that must have pleased her. Before long, Dedra asked him to move in with her. They quickly settled into a routine, both working long hours, but occasionally they’d have a free day to themselves. They’d stroll through the park, stop by the shops, and cook enough food to last a week.

Syril’s only complaint, if he had one, was that he desperately wanted to see her bare before him in the light, see what he was only able to touch. But if he tried anything, even just a kiss on the lips, she’d turn her head away and he’d make an awkward peck on the cheek. It was clear that whatever this was, she needed to be in the dark.

And Syril happily obliged, for Dedra never thrived so more strongly than in the darkness. Sometimes she would push him down on the bed and put a finger on his lips, then just reach down and unleash his cock and put her mouth around it until he was at the point of bursting. She’d suddenly stop and slowly disrobe, letting him run his hands down her body, cupping her breasts, stroking her nipples, kissing her thighs, until she chose to sink down onto him, engulfing him wholly as if to say, “you are mine and mine alone.”

Other times, Dedra would sit on the edge of the bed and he’d stumble forward, until her hand found his and she’d have him undress her, directing his movements as though conducting an orchestra. He learned to follow her lead and let her hands lead him, while trying to simultaneously enjoy every moment and think of anything else, lest he not last. But they always found their rhythm, moving together in concert.

*

Until the day came that Syril’s superiors informed him he’d be transferring to Ghorman effective immediately. Devastated, he returned home to Dedra, who turned off the Ghorman opera she’d been listening to.

Dedra held up a hand before saying anything, then walked up next to him. He stood there confused. She brushed some lint off of his uniform.

“You’re being transferred off of Corscant to oversee the Bureau of Standards office in Ghorman,” she said. “To some, such as your mother, this may seem like a demotion. But it isn’t.”

”Go on,” Syril gulped, staring at her lips, wondering how long it would be until she let him kiss her again.

”You are there officially of course, but your real mission is classified. You are to make contact with the Ghorman Front, assess them, and root out any outside agitators. You must tell no one of this mission, save myself, of course.” Dedra stepped closer to him. “We’ll see each other when we can, but we must be discreet. Do you understand?”

”Yes,” Syril said.

”Good, now before you go, turn out the lights,” Dedra said, smiling.

”Yes and I will do as you ask,” he said, as he turned off the lights for what could be the last time for a while. “I’ll find and report any outside agitators for you.”

For Syril would never lie to her and he knew Dedra would never lie to him.