Apollo Wilde
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- May 13, 2003
- Posts
- 3,090
“So now what?”
Her voice was a bit strained, and with good reason - she was upside down. She held her handstand for a few moments, before using her arms to twist herself. Her palms pivoting smoothly against the floor, her elbows bent, and she propelled herself to her feet, the same as if she had jumped. It was quite the feat of strength, and one she executed with not so much as a grunt of strain. Back on her feet again, she was shaking out her arms. Still restless, still not happy with her training. Certainly, Raeth had developed into a worthy sparring partner, but not someone who she could go all out with for fear of seriously injuring him. And, to be fair, most of the time she was fine with that arrangement. With this new threat lingering, the urge to really go all out was becoming stronger.
Acrobatics could only get her so far.
Though, a little voice nagged her, she had been neglecting that particular aspect of her training since she started working with Raeth. There were some parts of her flexibility that were innate - being a Twi’lek, after all- and others that came with her gender, and still more that came with endless, painful, training. Then, of course, there was always the sheer practicality of such training. No one entered into an actual battlefield doing backflips and splits.
“…This man,” said for simplicity’s sake, “still wants you. And has provided you with information to buy you time. I hope,” she inhaled, let it out with a sag of her shoulders, “that he contacts us within that time frame. I hate waiting.”
_____
It was hard to get back to anything resembling a “routine.” Not that she didn’t try - lovemaking sessions with Raeth to tire him out and to make it easier for her to request time away from him. Waiting eagerly for whatever kitchen masterpiece he’d created - not like she’d gotten any better at cooking herself. Truthfully, it was one aspect of life with Raeth that she was more than happy to concede to his overwhelming expertise without a fight.
But she still needed her space. Not to any sinister or malicious reasoning, but so she could train, do something, without having him looming over her shoulder. His devotion to her was as much as hers was to him, but there were still some…cultural differences to be ironed out, and that was that her training needed to be done alone. Well, some parts of it, at least.
If she were back at home -home! Since when had she started becoming nostalgic for that mudhole?-, she would have her brothers and sisters to train with, those from neighboring tribes. And then the quarterly and annual battles to keep honing her skills and learn new ones. Stopping in the middle of a knife drill, she sighed. Saboten wasn’t one to ever really get her hands dirty - using her charm and sex appeal to keep only the bare minimum of training -, but her brothers…
She missed them.
It’d been years since she saw them proper - Saboten had been her only real contact with the family since she left-, but Saboten kept her updated. She knew she was an aunt several times over, and how her mother and father were doing. She knew about the farm, about the next battle session, and how one of her nephews would be the clear winner. Running a hand over her sweat-slicked lekku, she tried to set her face. Tried not to agonize over the very simple fact that of course she’d think of family while she was training; the two were so intertwined, it would be like trying to remove salt from the ocean.
Well. Thinking about things she couldn’t regain wouldn’t be helpful now. Taking in another deep breath, she took two bounding leaps forward, preparing herself for a jump. And jump she did. Rather than falling back into her usual shadow boxing or sparring, she lapsed into a soundless dance. Drawing on memories far older than her time with the Mandalorians and more recent ones spent with Saboten, Saudaji let herself go within the dance.
Her voice was a bit strained, and with good reason - she was upside down. She held her handstand for a few moments, before using her arms to twist herself. Her palms pivoting smoothly against the floor, her elbows bent, and she propelled herself to her feet, the same as if she had jumped. It was quite the feat of strength, and one she executed with not so much as a grunt of strain. Back on her feet again, she was shaking out her arms. Still restless, still not happy with her training. Certainly, Raeth had developed into a worthy sparring partner, but not someone who she could go all out with for fear of seriously injuring him. And, to be fair, most of the time she was fine with that arrangement. With this new threat lingering, the urge to really go all out was becoming stronger.
Acrobatics could only get her so far.
Though, a little voice nagged her, she had been neglecting that particular aspect of her training since she started working with Raeth. There were some parts of her flexibility that were innate - being a Twi’lek, after all- and others that came with her gender, and still more that came with endless, painful, training. Then, of course, there was always the sheer practicality of such training. No one entered into an actual battlefield doing backflips and splits.
“…This man,” said for simplicity’s sake, “still wants you. And has provided you with information to buy you time. I hope,” she inhaled, let it out with a sag of her shoulders, “that he contacts us within that time frame. I hate waiting.”
_____
It was hard to get back to anything resembling a “routine.” Not that she didn’t try - lovemaking sessions with Raeth to tire him out and to make it easier for her to request time away from him. Waiting eagerly for whatever kitchen masterpiece he’d created - not like she’d gotten any better at cooking herself. Truthfully, it was one aspect of life with Raeth that she was more than happy to concede to his overwhelming expertise without a fight.
But she still needed her space. Not to any sinister or malicious reasoning, but so she could train, do something, without having him looming over her shoulder. His devotion to her was as much as hers was to him, but there were still some…cultural differences to be ironed out, and that was that her training needed to be done alone. Well, some parts of it, at least.
If she were back at home -home! Since when had she started becoming nostalgic for that mudhole?-, she would have her brothers and sisters to train with, those from neighboring tribes. And then the quarterly and annual battles to keep honing her skills and learn new ones. Stopping in the middle of a knife drill, she sighed. Saboten wasn’t one to ever really get her hands dirty - using her charm and sex appeal to keep only the bare minimum of training -, but her brothers…
She missed them.
It’d been years since she saw them proper - Saboten had been her only real contact with the family since she left-, but Saboten kept her updated. She knew she was an aunt several times over, and how her mother and father were doing. She knew about the farm, about the next battle session, and how one of her nephews would be the clear winner. Running a hand over her sweat-slicked lekku, she tried to set her face. Tried not to agonize over the very simple fact that of course she’d think of family while she was training; the two were so intertwined, it would be like trying to remove salt from the ocean.
Well. Thinking about things she couldn’t regain wouldn’t be helpful now. Taking in another deep breath, she took two bounding leaps forward, preparing herself for a jump. And jump she did. Rather than falling back into her usual shadow boxing or sparring, she lapsed into a soundless dance. Drawing on memories far older than her time with the Mandalorians and more recent ones spent with Saboten, Saudaji let herself go within the dance.