Caf Addict

Speaking of which, she stirs against his chest, looking up at him with sleepy eyes. Wolffe smiles, brushing her hair from her face. “Good morning, riduur.” He murmurs softly. “Sleep well?” He chuckles softly when all he got was a low hum. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“I always sleep well with you.” Sunniva replies rubbing said sleep from her eyes. “How long have you been awake?”

“Not too long. Mostly just watching the rain. Are you hungry?”

“Starving.”

Wolffe presses his lips against hers before rising out of bed. He dresses in simple sweats and t-shirt before disappearing into the kitchen, returning moments later with a tray of food and some caf for them both. Sunniva sits up, the mix of her bed head and light blue slip, combined with her sleepy features made her look ethereal, soft, and he nearly loses his footing and Sunniva giggles, telling him to be careful.

He places the tray on the side table before scooting back in bed, wrapping an arm around her, pulling her close. They ate in relative, but comfortable, silence—apart from the affectionate teasing and attempts to feed each other, ending in laughter. The two of them finished their breakfast and Wolffe takes the dishes back to the kitchen to clean them.

“You didn’t have to do all that.” Sunniva points out when he returns.

“I know, but I wanted to. Besides, you deserve it.”

Sunniva rises from her spot and stands toe-to-toe with Wolffe, her hands coming up and resting on either side of his face. “You deserve it as well, my love. You deserve everything good in life.”

“Perhaps. But you are everything good in my life. Your patience, love…all of you. Before you, I didn’t have any direction…I would have remained in the Empire.” His hand rested against her hip. “But you? You gave me life, cyare, a future. Something to look forward to.” His hand comes up to wipe away tears that trailed down her cheek.

“Ni kar'taylir darasuum.” Sunniva breathes and Wolffe felt his heart beat against his ribcage. She had told him once that she wanted to learn some of the language, but he wasn’t expecting this.

“Ni kar’taylir darasuum, Sunniva. You’ll have me until the end of time. However, you still look exhausted…why don’t we relax in bed for a while longer?”

“Good evening, Commander Wolffe.” She smiles, giving a soft nod. The man in steel discreetly reached over and gave her hand a quick squeeze before letting his fall back to his side. 

“My lady.” The armor gave his voice a much different timbre. Mysterious, powerful. “Are you ready to depart?” 

Sunniva nods, and he helps her step into the carriage before taking the seat opposite of hers, watching the landscape for any signs of trouble, but the sound of laughter makes him look her way. “I’m sorry, Commander. I don’t mean to laugh. But I think I may invest in something with a little more space.”

He looked around the cabin. It was indeed a bit cramped, but not so much that he would be uncomfortable the whole trip. “Do not waste your resources on me, Lady Kene.” His voice was firm, but not so much that it was impolite. “Hold onto them for yourself. I’ll be okay.”

The trip was relatively easy, their conversations brief but no less meaningful as she asked about the welfare of his men and he about her paintings. That alone brought a spark to her eyes he couldn’t ignore, and Wolffe’s heart raced. Soon, they came up to a fairly large manor, its exterior decorated with fountains, rose bushes—Maker, she hates roses—and statues. A rather vulgar display of wealth. 

Wolffe helped Sunniva down the steps before trailing a pace behind her, close enough to protect, but far enough to ward off gossip. That’s the last thing she needs. Within moments, Sunniva starts a conversation with the host: a young man of a similar age. He watches with careful eyes, searching for anything that may denote a threat, but he has yet to find one. Plus, Sunniva seems to be more at ease, and the Knight-Commander takes that as a good sign. As she moves about the ballroom, he can’t help but follow her.

It’s hard to look away. Wolffe once told her. It’s even more difficult when I’m unable to be by your side.

Soon, she is called to the top of a grand staircase, her heels clicking softly against black and white marble. The room quiets down and Sunniva begins her song, her melodic voice echoing off the walls in a way that reminds him of the cathedrals. The world narrows down to her and only her; the way the light shines off of her auburn hair, loose waves cascading down her back like fire; eyes bright like the blue ice that shone in caves…anything and everything that was Sunniva. When her song ends, the other attendees offer gratitude by way of applause and she retreats back into the crowd.

The event would go long into the night, and Wolffe could easily pick apart when she was starting to feel the exhaustion; slower movements, unfocused gaze, looking like she’d rather be anywhere than here. Sunniva’s eyes found his and she gave a brief nod. That’s my cue. She turns to some of the ladies she was speaking to. “I’m afraid I must retire for the evening. I do hope you ladies enjoy the rest of your night.” With that, she let’s him guide her back to the carriage. The ride home was silent, aside from the occasional bump in the road, and she winds up leaning against Wolffe, despite the chill of his armor.

“Let’s get you inside, sarad.” Wolffe murmurs where only she could hear before lifting her in his arms and carrying her inside. Compared to the young man’s, Sunniva’s home was more modest…comfortable, inviting, and warm. He takes her up the stairs and into her bedroom, where he helps her change from the dress into a nightgown. Once she’s settled, Wolffe removes the helmet and places a kiss against her cheek.

“Will you stay?”

They became more secure with themselves and things were blissful until Order 66. Sunniva recalls seeing the temple on the news, ancient walls blackened with blaster fire. She had tried to contact him, but to no avail. Weeks would turn into months before she would see him on her doorstep, exhausted and grieving with a bandage upon his head. They just held each other that night, nothing spoken, Wolffe tucked into her arms like he had been in the past. “I’m here, my love.” She whispered, pressing her lips to the top of his head.

Eventually, with the help of others, they were able to escape Coruscant and settle down somewhere on Mandalore within Clan Virras. It was tough at first, Sunniva not being used to such labor, and Wolffe unable to abandon his military instincts, but they managed just fine. Things were looking up.

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“Marry me.” Wolffe whispered to her, running his hands along her back. It had been a rather active night and Sunniva hadn’t moved from where she collapsed on his chest. She blinks once, trying to make sure she heard him correctly. When she made the connection, icy blue eyes widened.

“Yes.” She breathed. “Always yes.”

Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.

They repeated the vows to one another in the middle of the night, moonlight spilling through the curtains. It wasn’t what she imagined, mostly the living-on-Mandalore bit, but as long as she had Wolffe, she was happy. Sunniva giggles softly, taking his face in her hands, pressing her forehead to his. “My husband.”

“My wife.” Wolffe murmured, almost unsure if this was a dream or not. He holds her close, running his fingers across her back. “Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum."

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Some odd months pass before Sunniva and Wolffe find themselves holding a smaller version of them both. Black wavy hair, skin a couple of shades lighter than his, but their daughter’s eyes, nose and lips are more reminiscent of Sunniva. The young child happily played with some of her mother’s hair.

“I can’t believe I carried her for nine months and she shares more of you than me.” Sunniva teased the day Mirja was born. Wolffe rested his head on hers.

“She shares us both, sarad.”

He had been a nervous wreck when Sunniva first told him the news. Raising children wasn’t a part of their training, and he was terrified that he wouldn’t know how to help, but with Sunniva and the others, he managed well. Mirja looked towards Wolffe and stuck her chubby hands out to him, letting out a pitched laugh when he exaggerated his movements. Sunniva could only smile when she watched them.

“Why don’t we go outside for a bit? It’s lovely weather and Mirja seems to be getting restless.”

Wolffe looks towards the woman he started a life with, his eyes softening. It seems just like yesterday that he pulled her away from some drunken baboon at the gala and now look at them; survived a war, married and they now have a child. He reaches out and pulls her close.

“Sounds like a good idea to me, cyar’ika.” He looks towards their daughter. “Ready, Mirj’ika?”

The child lets out an excited squeal as they make their way into the backside of the house, a sense of peace washing over them. He often asked himself what he was fighting for…it was this. Himself, Sunniva, and their daughter.

“Mesh’la?” His gaze finds hers, and he notices the way she grips her shirt. It’s a nervous habit that he picked up in the early days when they started seeing each other. But it's Sunniva’s voice and expression that really catches his attention; quiet, her eyes not quite meeting his as she makes herself look smaller. Concern mars Wolffe’s features as he crosses the threshold to her. He takes her smaller hands in his, giving them a small squeeze. “What’s wrong?”

“Where do I stand with you?”

Where do I stand with you? That question left him reeling. “Where don’t you stand with me?” Wolffe murmurs, taking her face into his hands. “I see more of you in the world than I did when I first saw you.”

His words chipped away some of the fear that settled around her heart, but the uncertainty remained. “You’ve been so distant lately,” her voice thickens as tears build up in her eyes, “a part of me doubted I still had a spot in your heart…”

Something cold settled around Wolffe the moment she uttered those words. “Sunniva, no. You will always have me—heart, mind, body, and soul.” He pulls her tightly against him, resting his chin on her head. “I never meant to put those thoughts in your head. What I feel for you can’t be put into words, but I was so worried about the worst outcome...Maker, Sunniva, never again.” The relief is palpable when he feels her arms wrap around him, and he takes in the smell of her perfume, the same jasmine scent that follows her everywhere.

“It’s getting late, sarad.” Wolffe murmurs in a way that’s only reserved for her. “Why don’t we shower and get some sleep?”

“Will you join me?”

“Couldn’t say no to you.” He placed a quick kiss on her forehead before guiding her to the fresher. He gets the water going at a nice and warm temperature before helping her strip with practiced ease before doing the same. They step into the steady stream of water. Lathered loofas run across skin in gentle motions, hands working through hair, a sign that neither one of them are in a rush. Not tonight.

A kiss is shared between them, tender and slow, before Sunniva pulls away just enough, her lips brushing against his. “I love you.”

Three words. Three, small words that made his heart soar. Wolffe looks down at the woman who has made such an impact on his life, eyes full of reverence. “I love you.” His lips find hers once more, pouring every once of emotion into the gesture as he pulls her flush against him. Sunniva eagerly responds, her hands tangling in his hair while his roams further down the curve of her hips. He gives her bottom lip a soft nip. “This doesn’t have to go further. Tell me to stop and I will.”

“I want this, Wolffe.” She whispers, a small shiver crawling down her spine. “I want you.”

“I’m all yours, cyar’ika.” He chuckles softly. Just let me take care of you first, yeah?” Sunniva expresses her wish to continue and he lavishes her with affection, little love bites in a line down to her chest.

“You’re looking awfully smug.” Sunniva teases.

“Why wouldn’t I be? I’ve got the most beautiful woman covered in my marks.” Wolffe kisses his way down her stomach, hands never missing an inch as he worships the woman before him. When he reaches her thighs, he pauses to gently nip and pull at the soft skin as fingers tease the line of her folds. “So wet and I’ve barely touched you.”

“Don’t tease…” Sunniva whimpered, trying her damndest to sound firm, but that melted away when she felt his tongue delve inward and a small moan flies past her lips. The sound alone nearly made Wolffe give in, but his patience won out. He continues on as his tongue finds the swollen bundle of nerves, flicking across it before slowly sliding a finger into her wet heat and setting a languid pace. Upon Sunniva’s plead, he slides in one more digit. He feels her begin to writhe against the wall and pumps his fingers faster. “Wolffe…”

She was close. He could feel it in the way her walls squeezed his fingers. “I know you want to.” He husked. “Go ahead, mesh’la. I want you to come on my hand.”

His name falls from her lips, crying out in ecstasy and she spasms around his fingers. Wolffe’s movements slow as she rides out her high. “That was quite the sight.” He husks, moving to stand up. His arms hold Sunniva close to keep her upright. “Think you can give me another?”

Sunniva, her face flushed and pupils blown wide, looked up at him with a coy smile, her nails slowly raking down his chest. “Want to find out?”

“Hold on tight.” Wolffe smiles darkly as he grabs her thighs, hoisting her up. Sunniva’s legs wrap around his waist as he braces her against the wall, his painfully stiff length brushes against her and electricity shoots through him. He leans forward and presses a kiss to her throat, asking if she’s ready and Sunniva gives him a resounding yes. “Deep breath, ner cyare,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you. Squeeze if you need to.”

Wolffe takes his sweet time as he pushes in her, stopping every so often to give her time to adjust. A low groan escapes when their hips finally meet. She feels like absolute perfection.

“I’m okay, love.” Sunniva is slightly breathless from the first time. “I’m okay.”

He nips just below her ear and starts off with a slow pace. “Fucking hells, look at you. Taking me so well.” The praise makes her shiver, sinking her nails into his skin. Moans fill the space as their pace increases. Wolffe, with his head buried into her neck, whispered sweet nothings, his fingers digging into her skin as her sounds become embedded in his mind.

“Harder, Wolffe.” Sunniva desperately pleaded, her grip on him tightening. “Don’t stop.”

He picks up the pace once more, his hips snapping against hers. “Sing for me.” He uttered frantically, feeling his release near. “Let me hear you.”

Her head tilts back as he finds a new angle, coil in her abdomen beginning to tighten, nails leaving their marks as they scratch along his back. “Wolffe…I-I’m”

“Let go, ner kar’ta.” He pressed his forehead against hers. “I’ve got you.”

Sunniva arches off the wall as she falls over the edge, his name a pitched cry as the world slows around her. Wolffe isn’t far off, chasing his own release with reckless abandon. When he does, he gives on final thrust, hips stuttering as he empties inside her. When the haze clears, Wolffe realizes what happened. “Shit…Sunniva…”

“Implant.” She breathes, sagging against him. Wolffe nods before slowly lifting her off, trying to tune out the whimpering before he thinks with the wrong head. He helps her with the rest of the shower, praising how well she did, mindful of sensitive spots. Once they were done, Wolffe dries her off before pulling one of his shirts over her.

“Let’s get you to bed, Sunniva.” He chuckles lightly, lifting her in his arms like so many times before. “I’ll be back in a few.”

Sunniva covers her mouth as she listens to the trooper and a seething rage fills her chest. It’s unfamiliar, hot, and she doesn’t really like it. But it’s all she can manage besides worry. Despite whatever she’s feeling, the redhead takes a few breaths–her current thoughts aren’t going to help Wolffe heal any faster. She pulls up an extra seat and sits close to him, letting her hand rest on the Commander’s larger one. 

“You were on his mind when he was still conscious.” Sinker murmurs, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “More worried about you than himself.”

That doesn’t ease anything in her mind. In a way, it makes her feel guilty that he wasn’t focused on his recovery. She and Sinker are quiet before he gives a soft squeeze and lets them have some time alone. When the door shuts behind them, Sunniva reaches out and tentatively brushes her knuckles against his cheek. “I’m here, Wolffe, I’m here.”

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It’s maybe a week or two before Wolffe leaves the infirmary, much to the medic’s relief. Sunniva knows he has a rather grouchy reputation, but being bedridden for so long only seemed to increase it. She counts herself lucky that they were able to sneak her in to see him and douse some of that fire. Now, the two of them were huddled up on the couch as Sunniva gently helped clean some of the injuries. He wouldn’t hold still, so she opted to straddle him. “The more you move, the longer it’ll take.”

“You’ve got me in a rather compromising spot, Sunniva.” He grins, despite the stinging in his cheek. “It’s a bit difficult not to stay still.”

Sunniva makes a soft humming sound as she places a hand against his non-injured cheek to keep him still. Wolffe relaxes against her palm, languidly tracking her movements. However, when she reaches over for a new bandage, she feels her balance shift and Wolffe’s hands shoot to her hips. For a moment, none of them speak, trying to find the words to navigate the situation. The warmth from his hands did nothing to settle her heart as her eyes met his whiskey and silver ones, heart hammering away against her ribs. Wolffe, on the other hand, couldn’t bring himself to focus. Her hands against his chest, warm thighs around him, and the way she looked up there? His pants were becoming uncharacteristically tight as blood rushed elsewhere. He opens his mouth to apologize—to say something—but she beats him to it.

“If you keep looking at me like that, I’d think you were about to eat me.”

“Maybe I am.” Wolffe chuckles lowly, letting his hands travel up underneath her shirt. Sunniva’s skin felt like heaven against his rough fingertips and he nearly jolts when she lets out a small pleased hum.

“You can’t really keep your hands to yourself can you, Commander?” Sunniva smiles slyly, letting her hands trail down his chest and abdomen. They’ve felt each other when they’ve shared a bed or just cuddle on the couch, but this was different in the best way possible.

“You keep talking like that and I’m not going to be responsible for what I do next.” Wolffe growled and she nearly melted. Sunniva could feel him harden through his clothing and every part of her wanted to grind against him, just to see if she can pull some sort of noise from the Commander. She felt his hands travel along the curves of her body, before effectively pulling her closer.

Wolffe presses their foreheads against each other, taking in her flushed appearance. The air between them is heavy with want as they lean closer to each other, only a hair’s breadth away, before someone bangs on the door harshly and sprints down the hallway.

With his building frustration, Wolffe feels his lips drawn up in a snarl as he glares at the door. Sunniva, on the other hand, can only chuckle as she leans towards his ear. “Don’t worry, we’ll have plenty more chances.”

Wolffe brings safety and resilience, while Sunniva brings patience and warmth. But both of them offer steadfast loyalty to one another. There have been a few times when they questioned their current situation, but were unsure of what to call it. Friends don’t look at each other the way they have been. But they’ll cross that bridge when they get to it. Sunniva feels him stir in his sleep and she lets her lithe fingers card through short curls. “Rest easy, Wolffe.” She murmurs softly. “I’m here. You’re safe.” The Commander has been plagued with frequent nightmares, and while they’ve shared many things, these are something he never talks about.

He sighs deeply, relaxing in her embrace, before an arm snakes around her, holding her close.

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Another month or so passes before Wolffe returns to Coruscant. He and Sunniva have grown rather close since their first meeting, often coming to each other for things small and large. The redhead had given him the address to her apartment complex, so if Wolffe wanted to stop by, he was more than welcome to. However, when she opened the door this evening, he was greeted by a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, her voice lacking its usual warmth. She lets him in and he promptly changes out of his armor and into lounge wear. Sunniva didn’t speak much that evening, nearly jumping at any loud noise and constantly fiddling with the curtains until he pulled her aside.

“I’m just exhausted, love.” Sunniva sighs. “It’s been a long couple of weeks between traveling and a buildup of inconveniences.” Ranging from dealing with unruly patrons, a rather nasty boss, and dropping her room key between the wall and the elevator. It wasn’t quite a lie, but it definitely wasn’t the whole truth. Honestly, she feels awful for venting to Wolffe about it, knowing that he has to deal with a lot worse.

The stalwart Commander raises an eyebrow. “I know a lie when I see one, Sun’ika. Plus, you blink too often when you do.” His tone came out a little more firm than he intended, so he softened it next time he spoke, his palm coming up and resting on her cheek. “Tell me what’s eating at you…I don’t like seeing you like this.”

A small tear finally slips down her cheek as she explains that someone had been stalking her for the last couple of weeks. Random letters showing up in her mailbox in the lobby, photographs of her going and leaving, not to mention the threats. “I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I’m too terrified to leave the building!” The words start pouring out, fear and despair in her voice. “I hate bothering you with this because you deal with so much already, but—” She’s cut off when Wolffe pulls her tightly against him. It’s then that Sunniva breaks, sobbing quietly into his chest. To say he’s angry is an understatement—this man is raging. Not at her, but for her. But she doesn’t need rage right now. She needs him.

“I’m here, cyar’ika, you’re safe now.” He whispers into her hair, parroting the words she’s said to him before. They stay like that for a few moments before Wolffe lifts her into his arms and makes his way into the bedroom. Adjusting his hold, he pulls back the comforter and places Sunniva on the bed before crawling in next to her, pulling her close. Her sobs finally slow into soft sniffles as Wolffe brushes hair from her face.

After a few moments, Sunniva feels herself falling asleep to the sound of his steady heartbeat. His voice rumbles against her ear when he speaks. “I’ll keep watch. I’m not going anywhere for a while.” Before she knew it, sleep took over. Once he knew she was out, Wolffe contacted the Guard. Apparently, there has been a string of such things lately, and what Sunniva described was the culprit's MO. The person had been quiet, but Sunniva’s case made them rather sloppy.

That next morning, the sky had barely begun to lighten when Wolffe woke up to a message stating the culprit had been taken care of. Something close to relief and vindication stirred in his chest. Sunniva was safe for the time being. She stirs softly, blinking wearily up at him. He adjusts the comforter to where she’s effectively cocooned between it and him, keeping her warm.

The event had been going on for a few days now, and Wolffe has seemingly found himself drawn to Sunniva. The way she interacts with others, her laughter, and how she carries herself with quiet confidence. But there’s a melancholy he couldn’t put his finger on, mostly showing up when she thought no one was paying attention. Wolffe often inquired about Sunniva, albeit secretly, but people told him to leave it, or remained tight-lipped. So for now, he watches from afar, listening to the voice that stays in his dreams as she converses with another party-goer.

Sunniva looks rather annoyed. 

“You’ve got it bad, vod.” A voice says from beside him. Wolffe doesn’t recognize the trooper, but he knows they’re part of the security detail. “You haven’t tried, I don’t know, talking to her instead of lurking in the shadows?” To be honest, he has thought about it, but his thoughts got to him first. She wouldn’t want to be with someone like you, intimidating, rough…scarred. Speaking of rough, an elbow brings him back to reality. “Your damsel seems to be in a bit of distress. See if she needs help before I do.”

“You’ll keep your shebs here.” Wolffe shoots back, ignoring the laughter as he makes his way over to Sunniva. As the Commander nears, he can hear the slight exasperation in her voice as the conversation seems to have no end. When he is close enough, Wolffe clears his throat. “I apologize for the intrusion, ma’am, but one of the hosts would like to speak with you.”

Sunniva nods and bids farewell to the senator before letting Wolffe guide her away. When they were finally out of earshot, she lifted her head to gaze towards his visor. “I appreciate the rescue, Commander, more than you realize.”

“Of course, my lady. Though with your expression, I feel I rescued them.” Humor laces Wolffe’s tone. Sunniva chuckles and something in his chest stirs.

“That you may have. Would you join me on the balcony for a bit?”

“I don’t think that’s wise. People may get the wrong idea.”

“You’re guarding me, Commander. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Wolffe was silent for a moment before nodding and the two of them made their way towards an empty balcony, shielded by an archway covered with vines and small blooms, the evening sun filtering through in little speckles. His eyes flick over when he hears her take a slow breath. Compared to earlier, Sunniva seems more at ease. Content. “You seem better.”

“I am. I understand what can come with notoriety, but that person was nothing more than a drunken slimeball…and they were starting to get on my nerves.”

Wolffe let out a chuckle before he could stop it. That was something they both had in common, so he understood all too well. But the next thing out of her mouth took him off guard. 

“You’ve been watching me, Commander. How long has that been going on?”

Observant and straight to the point. Wolffe faces her, helmet-covered head tilted downward. “More than I can say.. Since the beginning, I suppose.” He watches as she turns just right, the orange sunset making her eyes shine like blue fire. Sunniva is quiet for a moment before she asks to see his face. Wolffe reaches up and disengages his helmet. Sunniva faces a man with tan skin and black military-style hair, a rather large scar running across a cybernetic eye, and an expression that’s currently dancing on the line of stern and soft.

“There, now we know what each of us looks like.” She smiles teasingly, and for a moment, she swore the corners of his mouth twitched upward. “May I have my rescuer’s name?”

The Commander is silent for a bit, but his voice is rougher without the helmet, sending involuntary shivers down her spine. “Wolffe.”