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contentment-of-cats · 2 years

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More Thyrondi

H*rny nonsense below the line.

They are officers of the Empire, first and foremost. Rynn Pyrondi knows that and takes great pride in her commission, her specialty, being a part of the Seventh, and most of all being bridge crew for the Chimaera. They consistently win at the Ascension Week war games, and this year Rynn 'commanded' a simulated combat module of an Arquetiens-class facing off against an insurgent task force - and won. Her AI-generated crew casualties were light, damage to the virtual ship enough for a stay at Kuat if real, and post-game there were things that she would have done differently.

True to form, Chimaerans celebrate wins together.

The table is loaded with food and drink, with Thrawn and Faro at the head of it.

"So where are you staying, Pyro?" Agral asks.

"I booked a week at Aurum on Scaui." Rynn opens her datapad and shows off. "When you're stationed on an ISD, you save a lot of money. It's not like Lothal is a hotbed of luxury. Aurum is built around hot springs and a grand casino, though she's more in it for the hot springs. "I got a cottage, and you just walk out to the springs or swim up to a submerged port."

Thrawn levels a look at her. "I do not need to lecture on counting cards."

"No sir."

"Or on drinking frozen, fruit-flavored alcohol beverages in containers the size of your head."

"No sir." The server set down a Corellian Swerve next to her as Thrawn and Faro’s eyebrows cock in unison. "In my defense, sirs, it is smaller than my head."

The next morning, the shuttle to Aurum is posh and quiet, and Rynn finds it hard to nap without the sounds of an ISD around her. The vibration of engines, the sound of environmental support, the press of gravitics have sung her to sleep for the past five years. The little cottage is the size of senior officers' quarters, but to a senior lieutenant with three bunkmates in a single room, it's the very height of luxury. There's a lounge, a bedroom, and a bath that is all about hot water and a mysterious variety of taps, two tubs, and a shower you can share with three close friends - though Rynn hopes one in particular got the hint.

She unpacks her duffel, then treats herself to a fragrant bath in the smaller of the two tubs - water to her shoulders. After that, a full-body blowdry and a thick, soft robe conspire to relax her so hard that Rynn staggers to the bed and falls gracelessly in. There are even controls for firmness, temperature, and even gravity from 'hold me down' to zero.

So nice.

So-

Thrawn hoists himself over the lip of the underwater entrance, warm from the springs and the swim. He hopes that he correctly interpreted the information as a hint to show up here. Rynn and he are… closer than before. They are 'friends with benefits' as she says.

The cottage is dark, Thrawn having waited to make his swim under the cover of the moonless world's dark night. Could she have gone to the casino? He was only half joking about counting cards, but Rynn was exceptionally good at dicing games and roulette - to the point of being booted from four Coruscant casinos in her academy years. He lifts his head, scenting the air - human women love perfumery and he smells nightblooms along with the peculiar sweet musk of humans. He towels off and puts on dry clothing out of a sense of respect and propriety before entering the main part of the accommodation.

Rynn is not in the lounge, but in the bedroom, curled up in a massive robe and dead asleep. Thrawn pauses, taking in the peaceful expression, then moving quietly to her side. He should let her sleep, but instead he lies down next to her - and with a sleepy mumble Rynn rolls to him.

"-took ya."

"I was uncertain as to the implied invitation." Warm Human rolling atop him, and she is wearing not a stitch under that robe. Thrawn undertakes a swift investigation to confirm his findings.

"I was trying for subtle. Not my strongest hand."

Indeed, Rynn is as direct as a turbolaser blast. "You smell good."

And she does. He's learned that 'horny' humans smell like pastry wanting to be eaten. Eli confused him at first by smelling of snowberry cream tarts, while Rynn smells of a spice roll. It's a double-edged blade. Thrawn did not really want to associate the scent of chocolate whisky cake with Tarkin, but here he is and Faro on the make smells like buttercream frosting. The Chimaera crew can at times fool his nose into thinking he's in a bakeshop.

His stomach rumbles and Rynn laughs. "Hungry or horny?"

"One does not preclude the other." He has both hands under her robe, ranging across warm and delicate Human skin. Nothing under the robe - confirmed. She wriggles atop him and his sex tries to punch its way out. Rynn spoils him with her appetites, but also with tender treatment.

"There's room service and you have too much clothing on."

"Again, I had no wish to presume."

Rynn kisses him, lips parting and for long moments there is only the dance of tongues and his hands on her buttocks. Kissing Rynn requires all his attention, as it's just the first offering in her feast. This is a woman who downloaded the Chimaera's ductwork profile and figured out how to get into his quarters so that they could fall madly in bed together, after all.

Perhaps he should presume.

He rolls with her in his arms, pressing her into the incredible softness of this bed. Human sleeping nests are for their eight-hour sleeps, and they are so very warm. He breaks the kiss and looks down at her, spreading the robe open like unwrapping a present. If she reminds him of anything, it's of a Rendate marble - insouciant smile, hair spread across the pillow, breasts just enough to fill his hands. His civilian tunic goes flying, undershirt in its wake, and her hands make short work of his belt and trousers.

Her fingers trace the rise under his blacks, tease their way in and stroke the slit as his sex pushes against it. He is in control of himself, thank you, and has only one head to which thinking is delegated.

"You like being a terrible tease."

"It's not a tease if I fully intend to deliver." She slips her arms out of the robe, then pushes his trousers and blacks down his hips. There is no rank in bed, and Rynn is bossy until she isn't. "Too much clothing. I want you naked."

Thrawn rolls off Rynn and sends his trousers and blacks after his tunic and undershirt.

Then he pounces.

Rynn is smaller than Eli, with the same color skin and eyes, but 'red' hair. Also like Eli, she likes a tussle. They disorder the bed and each other, her hair coming loose and her fingers carding through his own. He pins her by virtue of size and experience, with her legs over his shoulders and his mouth on her - and resistance crumbles as he laps her open, tasting the salt-sweet of her, breathing in her musk, and savoring the long, soft susurration of her surrender. Thrawn lays her down, spreads her open, and feasts.

#thyrondi #thrawn x pyrondi #thrawn #pyrondi

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