#dbw

“Mara?” Her hair slid like silk through his fingers, until he hit a tangle. She made a soft sound at the unintentional tug and he gently worked his fingers through it, smoothing it out before repeating the movement. “Mara? Do you want to take a shower?”

She mumbled something unintelligible and dismayed into his shoulder. Luke smiled indulgently, his eyes sliding along the line of her body. Flushed and soft in the aftermath of their play, she pressed against him as closely as possible. Alluring as it was, he knew she couldn’t be entirely comfortable with so much of her sticky from their combined fluids.

“Say it again?” he asked, dropped his head to hear better.

“Walking,” she reluctantly lifted her head away from his shoulder enough to be heard. “Problem.”

He resisted the urge to laugh at her grumpy matter-of-factness. “I see.” He rolled her over, stroking a hand down her body in possessive approval as he kissed her thoroughly. Mara hummed, her eyes unfocused and her cheeks flushed when he pulled away. “I’ll run us a bath.”

She whimpered when he slid out of bed, curling into the warmth of the sheets where he’d just been. Watching her made him feel full and content. Every doubt and discomfort of what they’d done vanished in the wake of this feeling. This visual of Mara, safe and sleepy in his bed.

In the fresher, he dialed the lights to half illumination and started the water in the tub. He didn’t use it much – it still felt like an unjustifiably decadent use of water most of the time. But not tonight. Opening a rarely-used cabinet he found bath salts – a gift set that had been there when he first got the apartment. He cracked them open. After a precautionary sniff, he added a liberal amount to the tub and swirled them so they dissolved. Evaluating the room, he decided it was missing something. He called up music – something soft and classical that he thought Mara would like.

Satisfied with the water’s depth, he wandered back to the bedroom.

Mara lay with her face buried in his pillow, her knees drawn up to her chest. It was how she always lay when he wasn’t with her, he’d noticed. He didn’t like it, though his mind steadfastly resisted thinking too hard about why. Pushing the blankets away from her, he scooped one arm under her shoulders and the other under her knees and lifted her. Mara wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging, and his heart warmed at her silent want for him.  

Stepping carefully into the tub, Luke lowered them both. The water was hot, but not uncomfortably so, and Luke relaxed into it, letting it soak through him. Mara was limp as a rag doll as he tucked her between his legs and leaned back, letting her rest against his chest. She said nothing when he gathered her hair and clumsily twisted it into a bun atop her head, out of the water. She lay pliant and staring blankly into nothingness as he stroked her, scooping up handfuls of water and letting them run over her shoulders, the water runneling down her chest and arms. For a while, Luke let her drift. He’d pushed hard, just like she’d wanted him to, and it wasn’t a surprise that their play had exhausted her.

Eventually, however, niggling worry crept in. The reheaters kicked on to maintain the water’s temperature and still Mara had said nothing. Hadn’t moved.

“Mara? Are you all right?”

“Hm?”

The sound was utterly absent, and Luke suspected she didn’t actually know what he’d said. His concern climbed. “Sweetheart? Is something wrong?”

“I wasn’t good.”

The words were detached, barely a whisper -- like they weren’t hers at all. He got the disconcerting impression that she didn’t know she’d said them. That she wasn’t there. Real anxiety stabbed him, now.

“What?” He half sat-up, lifting his knees to brace her as he turned her so he could see her face. Her eyes didn’t focus on him – they stayed blank and far away. “Mara?”

“Hm?”

Cold balled in Luke’s gut. This wasn’t right. Had he done something wrong? Had he hurt her? She’d wanted her boundaries pushed, but if she hadn’t really been ready --.

“Sweetheart,” he asked, slow and intent, the way he would if she’d been injured in battle and was non-responsive like this, “what wasn’t good? What -- ” his eyes darted over her body then back to her face, swallowing hard, “tell me what’s wrong.”

“What?” Mara blinked, like waking up. Her posture shifted, her knees coming up, her shoulders hunching as she blinked at him again, confused and disoriented. “What?”

Luke felt as if he were holding his breath, anxiety and hope held suspended in equal measure between his ribs. “I asked if you’re alright,” he said, watching her carefully. “If anything hurts.” If I hurt you. Please, please tell me I didn’t hurt you.

Mara’s eyes found his, tiny wrinkles between her eyebrows as her brow furrowed in her attempt to process his words. And then, just like that, her expression cleared. Her shoulders dropped and she leaned into him, her head nestling against his shoulder, one hand lifting to squeeze his knee.

“Just my pride.” She smiled at him, that small, sweet, vulnerable smile she only ever got after he’d wiped out her usual defenses and left her worked over and wearily happy. “Zoning out on you -- bad for my image, right? I just – you -- it went straight to my head.”

The anxiety unspooled, fierce protectiveness rushing in to fill the space it vacated in his chest. He snuggled her a little closer against him, cupped her cheek with a hand and pressed relieved, grateful kisses to the damp hair over her forehead.

“Are you eating?” It was the first question that came to mind. She’d never been good at taking care of herself, he knew that.

Mara ducked her head into his hand, pressing a rueful kiss to his wrist. “Here and there.” She lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. “I get busy…”

Luke berated himself for not thinking of this possibility sooner. All-encompassing as his current situation could be, he wasn’t the only one in the galaxy under stress. With as hard as Mara worked herself, to come here and play at what they did together – it was no wonder if her body struggled to cope sometimes. She wasn’t hurt – she wasn’t. Just hungry – blood sugar crash, probably. He could fix it – he could take care of her. She needed him to.

Tipping her head back, he kissed her tenderly. “Come on, that’s enough soaking for now. I’m going to find blankets and a snack.”

“You don’t have to --” she started to protest, half-heartedly.

“You’re going to eat,” he ordered, firmly, catching her gaze and holding it.

Interest sparked, and her lips twitched toward a flirtatious smile. “Are you going to feed me?” she asked, coyly. Her eyes flicked to his mouth and back. “Something I can lick off your fingers, maybe?” She ran her tongue along her bottom lip. “I’d like to.”

Luke chuckled, stealing one more kiss before he got around to business of standing and getting her bundled onto his sofa in a nest of the softest blankets he could find. “You can’t be that needy,” he teased.