tressieandmavreth

[tressieandmavreth]

Get Up (Pt. IV of IV)

[[tl;dr: Tressie and Mav’reth go out for an evening of romance and gladiatorial bloodsport on Nar Shaddaa, and they end up participating a bit more than they had bargained for. *** CW: Language, violence, some sexual themes. *** Written by @tehlaen, who plays Mav’reth; Tressie belongs to @carasilvaart​.]]

Whatever disappointment Mav’reth had felt with the undercard fights notwithstanding, the main attraction surpassed her every expectation. Tressie and Mav found themselves on their feet more than once, howling for blood with all their fellow spectators. To Mav’s critical eye, the fighters were magnificent, matching their foes in primal savagery and feral, animal cunning. Pity at least one wouldn't survive the night.

Kohnir’s blaster bolt could have simply gone wild and ended up blazing toward Aubriena’s throat, but the Zakuulan whirled her saberpike up and around, deflecting it into a Mawrorr’s eye. After that particularly exhilarating exchange, Mav’reth dropped back into her seat and leaned on Tressie’s shoulder, panting breathlessly.

Black imitation-nerfhide, trimmed with red and orange, obstructed her view, and Mav’reth glanced up in irritation. The sandy-haired human, his stocky build equal parts fat and muscle, gave her a dismissive look and sneered at Tressie. “Get up and get out, De’Roachez. You don’t belong here.”

Fury rolled off Tressie in waves, and Mav was torn between mirroring in it… and exulting in it.

Her lover bared her teeth in a snarl. “Go back to whatever hole you crawled out of, Zubner, and stick ta dealin’ to sewer-scags. This here’s my turf, ‘n you get one chance to leave upright.”

The Rodian said something in that absurd language of theirs and Zubner scoffed. “Fuckin’ right. You come in here tryin’ ta show off, dressin’ like a Cartel underboss with some pretty piece of ass hangin’ on yer arm. Doll yerself up all ya want, yer still nothin’ but gutter trash.”

Muscles bunched under Mav’s fingers as Tressie started to her feet. Before she could, the Sith gave an exaggerated, loud yawn. When she had the attention of all four, she swung her head to look at Tressie. Large, opal eyes blinked slowly, and in her sharpest, haughtiest Kaas City accent, Mav said, “Tressie, darling… I can’t see.”

“Who zis, De’Roachez? Yer a nobody, but she seems classy. Looks expensive, too,” Zubner said with a lecherous grin. “Gotta be a whore. Can’t imagine somebody like her’d be fuckin’ caught dead with a worthless, wannabe streetpunk like you if she wasn’t gettin’ paid.”

Unbridled rage flushed Tressie’s face the purple of a fresh bruise and her citrine eyes blazed like blasterfire. The human made a big show of ignoring her reaction as he leered at Mav’reth. “Whatcha say, sweet thang? Why don’t ya come with us and we’ll give ya what this pathetic gutter-scag can’t?”

Mav’reth didn’t speak Gamorrese, but the porcine alien’s vulgar, jerking motion at his crotch made his meaning plain. Tressie rocketed to her feet. Her fists balled at her sides and she leaned forward on her toes, her nose scant centimeters from Zubner’s. The human stared at her defiantly, lip curled in a sneer.

It was Mav’s voice that broke the silence of the standoff. “Tressie, my love…” Her lover didn't turn to face her, but Mav knew she had her attention. She stretched languidly, then regarded Zubner and his lackeys under hooded lids. “Rid me of this noisome pest, would you, darling?”

Tressie’s chin jerked in a sharp nod. Her eyes blazed as she growled, “Disrespect me here, on my turf, that’s just plain stupid. Disrespect my Lady ‘n I’m gonna slow-roast you til yer skin starts boilin’ off the bone, so ya can watch as my akk dogs start eatin’ ya alive. You got one chance, ‘n only one chance, ta apologize to the Lady for bein’ a brainless, no-manners shitwad ‘n disappear, if ya wanna make it outta here alive.”

The human laughed, then hocked and spat. The gob of saliva hit the floor, barely missing Mav’s feet, but the impact speckled her skin with spit through the open toes of her slippers. Mav’s eyes flashed and her fingers curled, nearly overwhelmed by her desire to rip his jawbone free from his skull and use it to gouge out his eyes. She restrained herself; this was Tressie’s fight, on Tressie’s turf, and stealing her kill would make her weak in the eyes of all who were watching, and all the people they’d tell.

Before either of them could make a move to draw, the announcer came over the speakers. “Just a reminder, sentients and gentlebeings: the only gunplay that goes on here is in the arena! Violators will be disintegrated, and maybe their friends, too, for good measure.”

“Works fer me,” Tressie snarled. “You ‘n me. No blasters, no blades, just fists. ‘N tell yer friends ta stay out of it or once I finish with you, They’re next.”

“Ha! Like I need backup to deal with you.”

Tressie began to shrug out of her shoulder holster and unbuckled the gunbelt as Zubner did the same. She turned to Mav’reth to hand her the bundle of weaponry, and the Sith grabbed her chin in strong fingers. Her pale eyes held Tressie’s gaze and she pitched her voice low. “I won’t waste my breath telling you I love you; you should know that by now. What I will say…” Her fingers tightened and pulled Tressie into a deep kiss that was almost savage in its intensity. “Win.”

“You done yet?” Zubner jeered. “Good idea, get one last kiss from ‘er, ‘cause she ain’t gonna be doin’ much kissin’ once I get done with her.”

Mav’reth’s eyes narrowed and her lip curled in a snarl. Tressie mirrored the expression and gave her a sharp nod.

Mav’s snarl shifted into a predatory grin as Tressie’s muscles tensed. She sat back in her seat, sipping at the dark Rishi rum in Tressie’s glass. Not usually her preferred poison, but it felt like it fit the scene.

In one smooth motion, Tressie dropped into a crouch with her legs coiled under her, spun, and exploded out of her crouch like a pouncing vorntiger. The sudden ferocity took Zubner by surprise, and he backpedaled unsteadily, a flurry of sharp jabs at his ribs and short, sharp hooks keeping him on his heels. Mav noted approvingly that Tressie was carefully choosing her shots; without even minimal padding or wrapping, striking the jaw or other bones could easily break her knuckles.

A sharp jab flattened Zubner’s mushroom nose. His eyes opened wide in shock and he shook his head, spraying flecks of blood all around. His shoulders drew in and he set his feet, fists up in a cautious guard.

WHatever his shortcomings, Zubner was not stupid--at least not in matters of violence. He waited for Tressie to spend her momentum, and at a short pause in the flurry of punches, he short a haymaker left at her ribs.

Tressie’s eyes shot open and she twisted, the bone-shattering strike grazing her side instead of cracking her sternum. She danced back out of rang and regarded Zubner warily.

Mav’reth’s opal eyes flicked between the two and she could see in the set of Tressie’s eyes that the two were making the same assessments. Zubner was a brawler, slow and plodding, but it’d be stupid and potentially fatal to forget that the flab covered muscles like durasteel cable. THe punches he threw at her head and torso had roughly the same kinetic energy behind them as a rogue comet, fully capable of knocking Tressie’s teeth down her throat.

Tressie, by contrast, was nimble and wiry, constantly moving so as not to give Zubner an easy target. She couldn't match Zubner for brute strength and weight, but she had the advantage in speed, reach and flexibility. She compensated by striking hard and fast at spots she’d already hit, forcing Zubner to fight defensively to protect his injuries.

The two settled into an equilibrium that, far too quickly for Mav’reth’s liking, stagnated and turned to stalemate. Tressie ducked in, fired off a few well-aimed shots, and ducked back out of reach before one of Zubner’s killer retaliations could connect.

Everyone present could tell how the fight would go. For Tressie it was a battle of attrition, hammering the same sore spots ‘til the pain made the human drop his guard. Zubner, conversely, only needed to land one solid shot to the torso or head to put Tressie down. The Pureblood was younger, fitter, and faster, and if she paced herself and didn’t fall for idiot feints, she’d wear Zubner down.

And thus the stalemate. Both fought cagily, playing it safe. Mav’reth frowned severely; warfare--not to mention a youth at the Korriban Academy--had carved into her psyche and her hide the lesson that stalemate is broken by doing something unexpected. And in her experience, victory went to the bold and the unpredictable.

Gnawing dread and roiling anger vied for supremacy in the Sith’s mind as Zubner acted to break the impasse. With an agility Mav wouldn’t have thought him capable of, Zubner feinted and, when Tresise moved to block, opened his fist and wrapped sausage fingers in a vise grip around her forearm, planted his foot, and twisted his bulky form, giving Tressie’s arm a savage yank. He wrenched her arm and wrung a cry of pain from her throat. Tressie stumbled toward him and into his waiting arms. Zubner’s arm wrapped around her torso, crushing her wiry frame against him and pinning her arm to her side.

The arm around her ribs tightened, constricting her breath. She twisted and wriggled, feet kicking ineffectually against his shins. Her free arm--her dominant left, by some miracle--flailed, trying to both fend off the punches from Zubner’s free hand and strike at him. Her fingers clawed, scratching his eyes, and he jerked his head from side to side to keep her thumb out of his eye socket.

The saving grace--and one that probably saved Tressie’s life--was that, this close in, Zubner couldn’t put his full strength behind the punches he rained on Tressie. Instead he hammered at the side of her head, he flattened her nose, and he pounded at her cheek and lips.

Mav watched ing rowing horror as blood poured from Tressie’s shredded lips and her broken nose. BLood dripped from one ear and her left eye was rapidly swelling shut.

I. Am. Sith. She scourged herself inwardly. Fear is for the weak and the doomed.

Mav’reth channeled her fear into burning, seething rage. Anger at Zubner for his impudence and disrespect and for daring to strike at Tressie. Anger at Tressie for her stupidity in assuming her foe would adhere to her idiot rules of fair play, and for not going straight for the kill, and for hobbling Mav’reth with foolish notions about respect and keeping up appearances and not getting involved. At herself for knowing that Tressie was right and wanting to get involved regardless.

An expression of murderous and almost childlike glee shone on Zubner’s face. Mav’reth struggled to keep her fury at heel and not indulge her desire to carve the look off the human’s face with a shard of glass. Tressie’s knee came up sharply, and while Mav’reth would have preferred to see Zubner collapse screaming and clutching his crushed testicles, the glancing blow was enough to loosen his death-grip.

Tressie wriggled free--and her knees gave out from under her. Mav’s momentary elation withered as quickly as it had blossomed. Tressie fell onto her back, and although she curled her neck forward, the back of her head still slammed against the permacrete. The blood oozing from her torn scalp gleamed oily black in the darkness.

Dazed, Tressie’s head tipped back, staring upside down through Mav’reth’s face. Grey gnawed at the edges of her vision, and her eyes didn’t want to point in the same direction. Until… Her sight tunneled and focused on Mav’reth’s face. The Sith’s elegant features contorted in a mask of  primal, unbridled fury. Mav’reth’s opal eyes held Tressie’s gaze, as irresistible as being drawn past the event horizon. They blazed and went supernova. Mav’reth’s lips might have moved;  Tressie couldn’t be sure, because she couldn’t look away from that stare. Later, she’d lie awake, wondering if she heard Mav’reth’s voice in her head because of some Sith bullshit, or because she’d so strongly internalized her lover’s expectations and mindset.

“GET. UP.”

Mav’reth and Tressie’s eyes remained locked for  heartbeat that lasted a lifetime. NEither broke eye contact to look at Zubner, standing over Tressie with his foot raised to crush her kneecap.

Tressie tucked her arms inward and rolled into Zubner’s ankle. The human--already unsteady on one foot--windmilled his arms to get his balance. Tressie gathered her limbs under her, then exploded out of her crouch. SHe slammed into Zubner, throwing the teetering human wholly off balance. His arms flailed wildly and Tressie jumped on him, knocking him from his feet.

She kept her grip on him, following him to the ground. The arc of Zubner’s skull as he fell intersected with the alusteel frame of Mav’reth’s chair, and Mav felt as much as heard the sharp KRAKK of parting bone as the side of his head met the metal.

Stunned, the human’s eyes jerked wildly and his hands flailed ineffectually to ward off Tressie. Slender, bloody fingers tangled in dirty hair and she slammed his head again and again against the permacrete. He thrashed weakly but couldn’t break her grip, and she held him by the hair as she rained blows on his cheek, ear and throat.

After a short time--that was likely interminable for the poor Zubner--his weak flailing slowed. He shuddered violently once and went still. It took Tressie a few moments to realize he was no longer moving.

The too-brief stillness was broken when the late--or soon-to-be late--Zubner’s Gamorrean lackey squealed in anger and alarm. Thick fingers groped for the blaster at his hip.

A primal scream tore from Mav’reth’s throat, equal parts fury and exultation, finally free to unleash her rage. Her fingers tightened, shattering the glass in her hand. She surge dto her feet, utterly unmindful of the broken glass shredding her palm. Bloody fingers clutched at the largest shard as she lunged for the Gamorrean. Her other hand clamped around the porcine alien’s throat, his windpipe creaking and cracking under her grip. Fury flooded her limbs and she lifted the Gamorrean off the ground by the neck. Stubby legs kicked and thrashed and Mav allowed herself a brief instant to revel in his terror.

Her bloody hand crossed her body and buried the glass shard in the Gamorrean’s side above his hip. She stared into his wide, terrified eyes and drew the improvised knife across his belly. The glass, with Mav’reth’s raw physical strength behind it, ripped through the cheap jacket and thick hide and opened a ragged, gaping tear from one hip to the other.

Three strides took Mav’reth and the screaming Gamorrean to the short rail of the terrace and the forcefield separating the audience from the arena. It was meant to repel bottles and other detritus thrown from the stands, and to dissipate stray blasterbolts. It was not, however, spec’d to resist a 150kg Gamorrean, propelled by the unchained wrath of a Lord of the Sith. A four-meter section of the field sputtered, flickered, and shorted out. Muscles bunched in Mav’reth’s arm and she hurled the squealing alien through the gap and into the arena. He hit the sand twenty meters below with a sickening thud and the wet crack of snapping bones. Not the neck, Mav’reth mused as the squealing continued unabated. He was, therefore, still alive as the pack of sauroid tonitrans--sensing much less dangerous prey--fell on him and began to devour him.

Mav’reth spun to stare at the Rodian, her bloodlust still raging. The bug-eyed alien’s compound eyes were hard to read, but he jerked back and forth between looking at the possibly-living Zubner and the avatar of death clad in a backless, shimmersilk evening gown.

The Sith kept eye contact--as much as she could with a compound-eyed alien--as she moved to remove his dilemma. Bloody fingers wrapped around the unmoving Zubner’s ankle and dragged him to the terrace railing. She stooped and grabbed him by the collar and belt, then hoisted him effortlessly and flung him to join what was left of his friend.

The Rodian fled. Mav’reth--with blood seeping from the wound still embedded with broken glass--stared at the alien’s retreating back. She was giving serious consideration to chasing him down, to burying serrated fangs in the back of his neck, to feeling the delectable KRONCH of vertebrae between her jaws…

She was drawn from her reverie by Tressie’s panting and groaning. Her lover sat slumped back against her chair, too exhausted to lift herself up into it. Mav’reth turned back to her and gave her a beaming, loving smile. “May I, darling?” she asked and offered Tressie her hands to help her up.

Tressie grunted inarticulately and Mav’reth pulled her easily to her feet. “Shall we stay for the remainder of the show, Tressie, dearest? Or shall we see to your concussion, broken fingers and knuckles, popped eardrum, torn lips, and hairline skull fractures?”

Tressie gave Mav’reth a wary, sidelong look from her good eye as she listed off her injuries matter-of-factly. A disapproving frown tugged painfully at her shredded lip and she hissed to herself. “Love, ya know I don’t like it when ya use that Force bantha-shit on me, even if it’s jus’ ta see how bad I’m hurt.”

Mav’reth snorted and surreptitiously wiped blood from her hand on her dress--where Tressie couldn’t see. “I didn’t, darling. You might not have noticed,” she quipped dryly, “but I’m something of a connoisseur of bloodshed and bodily harm. The injuries of a fistfight are rather… uncomplicated.”

Tressie shrugged and winced as the gesture shifted her wrenched shoulder. “If ya won’t be disappointed, I think I’d rather get some kolton ‘n somethin’ ta take the edge off.”

“Mmm. I didn’t get the fight I expected, my love, but I’m not at all disappointed. In point of fact, Mav’reth said, lips curled in a predatory grin, “I believe I prefer the show I got to the one I came for. Besides… For what I’ve got in mind for you, I need you in fighting trim.”

Tressie leaned heavily on Mav’reth as the Sith led her lover to the exit, her arm over Mav’s shoulder and Mav’s arm supporting her around her waist. “Mav… Ya know I love showin’ off fer ya, but…” She hissed in pain. “I don’t think I’mma be up for another brawl like that again real soon.”

Mav’reth stopped and turned with her arm still around Tressie’s waist. Her other hand caressed Tressie’s cheek tenderly and she leaned in to kiss the point of her chin, between her jawspurs. Her eyes smoldered and the growl in her voice sent shivers up Tressie’s spine.

“Not what I had in mind, my love.”

#star wars #swtor rp #sith #my writing #carasilvaart #tehlaen #tressie de'roachez #mav'reth #nar shaddaa

[tressieandmavreth]

Get Up (Pt. III of IV)

[[tl;dr: Tressie and Mav’reth go out for an evening of romance and gladiatorial bloodsport on Nar Shaddaa, and they end up participating a bit more than they had bargained for. *** CW: Language, violence. *** Written by @tehlaen, who plays Mav’reth; Tressie belongs to @carasilvaart​.]]

The dim lamps of the combination fighting pit and dive bar painted Mav’s gleaming white teeth the shade of freshly gushing arterial blood. It was, she reflected with her lips curled in a  predatory grin, a look that really did it for her.

Eyes followed them, heads turned and the crowd split before them. The two strolled through the path that opened for them, eyes sliding over faces and seemingly unaware of--or, more likely, uninterested in--the attention. Tressie’s long legs set a leisurely pace, leading Mav’reth to their seats--or rather, the seats they intended to have. Mav’reth’s hand rested lightly in the crook of the elbow that Tressie gallantly offered her. Her fingers tightened in an affectionate squeeze, and Tressie turned her head and gave her a beaming smile.

A human, a Twi’lek, and a pair of Rodians were in their seats in the front row of the middle terrance. The Purebloods stopped in front of them and waited. Mav looked from one to the next, regarding them from under hooded lids, like a carnivore idly considering whether the morsels in front of her were worth the effort.

Tressie gave them an expectant look--though her patience started to run out as the seats’ present occupants exchanged wary looks. After almost a full minute of the silent discussion, the gangster cleared her throat pointedly.

“Ya mind? Yer in the lady’s seat.” Citrine eyes gave them a hard stare. The standoff stretched for a handful of heartbeats, and Mav’reth glanced around, an expression of boredom on her face. Those other spectators sitting nearby were watching with bated breath to see how the confrontation would unfold.

Tressie’s voice dropped to a dangerous octave and she growled, “Get. Up.”

The human held her gaze for another heartbeat and a half. Then she and her friends scrambled to make themselves scarce.

Mav’reth favored Tressie with an adoring smile. “Thank you, my darling.”

“Anything for a Lady,” she shot back with a grin.

Mav’reth stifled a sigh of disappointment around the rim of the glass. Te first three bouts had been unremarkable at best. She pondered idly whether that was intentional--a play, perhaps, to sell more of the overpriced, watered-down rotgut that was the bar’s stock in trade. Watching over-the-hill, half-blind  akk dogs get butchered--slowly--by an equally past-her prime Mandalorian who hadn’t had the grace to die in honorable combat would likely be far more entertaining if one were suffering the early stages of alcohol poisoning. 

The Wookiee from the second fight was similarly underwhelming. Normally, Mav’reth appreciated Wookiees’ primal savagery and brutal strength, but the poor beast had long ago lost both. It had virtually been a mercy-killing when the iknayid punched its heart out through its spine.

She sighed softly again and tucked herself under Tressie’s arm, and Tressie gave her a squeeze. Her chinspurs twitched as her lips curled down in a frown. “Ya look bored, love. Ya wanna say ‘fuck it’ and leave?”

Mav’s lips pursed as she considered. Just as she opened her mouth to reply, the lights went down again and spotlights bracketed three figures on the bloody sand in the middle of the arena.

“This looks promising,” Mav’reth murmured in Tressie’s ear as the announcer’s voice boomed from hidden speakers.

“And now, dear sentients and fight-fans of impeccable taste… Our Main Event!” The dim hum of conversation in the stands surged into cheers--not, Mav’reth mused, as much as one might expect. She thought it likely quite a few of their fellow spectators were as disillusioned as the two of them and didn’t have high hopes.

“Our undercard fighters have got the pit sands hot and bloody for our stars! Sentients, are you ready to see our prize fingers kill and bleed for your entertainment?!”

The crowd roared, and Mav’reth added her own primal scream to the bloodthirsty chorus. Tressie jumped and stared wide-eyed at the Sith, and Mav answered her with a sharp, toothy grin and a feral gleam in her eyes. “Don’t pretend it doesn’t get your pulse racing, too,” she purred and gave Tressie a hooded, heated look.

Tressie just laughed and shook her head, and they turned their attention back to the arena.

“Here’s what’s in store for our champions tonight, sentients and gentlebeings! Three challengers, one purse, seven waves of rabid, starving-mad beasts… and a hundred ways to die, each more horrifying than the last!”

Mav’reth gave Tressie a smile and her teeth shone white in the dim gloom. Tressie’s arm settled around her shoulders and the Sith nestled against the gangster’s side.

“Now let’s meet our challengers! Hailing from the ass-end of nothing and nowhere, Kohnir climbed the ranks of the Republic’s elite Special Forces, where he offed so many Imps that they put a price on his head--a bounty that still holds the record for an Imperial contract on an individual Republic soldier. How’s that for a gladiatorial pedigree?!

“The Pubs kicked him out--dishonorably, they said--for brutality. Well, here on Nar Shaddaa, we aren’t squeamish about brutality, are we?!”

The spectators screamed their denial. This time, Tressie’s voice rose to join Mav’s, and the two shared a wicked grin.

“Neither’s Clan Vizla! When their warriors came to collect the bounty, he collected their skulls instead… and won adoption into the clan through combat! Mandos might be creazier than a shit-house rat, but they ain’t stupid, and they know a talent for killin’ when they see it!”

Kohnir sprang into the air on a silver flame from his jetpack, then pirouetted with a ribbon of fire gushing from his wrist-mounted flamethrower. At the apogee of his climb, he tucked into a forward flip, then dove for the ground. He slammed to the sand, a concussive charge detonating as he landed. He rose to his feet and thrust his fists into the air, sand falling back to the ground and cheers washing over him in waves.

The spotlight on the Mandalorian dimmed and focus shifted to a woman wearing white- and bronze-colored armor that looked too big and unwieldy for her slight frame. The ease with which it moved with her as she twirled the lightsaber-pike around her body and over her head removed any doubt that she was accustomed to it.

“The Eternal Empire sure as shit wasn’t, but our next fighter might just be! Aubriena served--and survived!--Arcann and his even-crazier sister Vaylin, first as a Knight of Zakuul and then as a Horizon Guard! Sure, she could go back and hang up her saber, but war runs in her blood! And if she’s gonna die with her boots on… She might as well get kriffin’ rich, right?!”

The announcer introduced the third fighter, but Mav’reth only paid the barest of attention. Out of the corner of her eye, a flash of orange and red drew her gaze, and she casually glanced over. It could have been coincidence: a human, a Rodian and a Gamorrean striding in like they owned the place, wearing the colors of one of Tressie’s crew’s chief rivals on this level. Tressie followed Mav’s gaze and the Sith could feel her lover tense up.

Not coincidence, then.

Mav’reth slipped her arm around Tressie’s waist and patted her stomach gently. “Pay them no mind, darling, not tonight.”

Tressie looked down at her and forced her scowl to curl into an unconvincing smile. “Sure, Mav. Whatever you say.”

Mav’reth turned her attention back to the announcer’s explanation of the night’s entertainment. “...Just one prize, winner takes all! Do they take out the competition early, or run the risk of bein’ outnumbered, overrun and eliminated with no support? Take a look at these savage beasts, sentients and gentlebeings, and tell me if you’d wanna face ‘em alone!”

Holographic images of the beasts in their cages sprang to life above the arena. Mav’s eyes dilated and her breath hitched in delectable anticipation. She felt her mouth water, her pulse race, and her tongue move of its own accord over the sharp points of her teeth. The promise of violence made her hot and tight between her legs, and her fingers curled, clutching at Tressie. Her lover chuckled softly  as Mav’s eyes fixed on the nightmarishly-lethal monsters, and a moan--equal parts lust and bloodlust--slipped from her lips.

“Excited for the fight?” Tressie teased.

Mav’s eyes flicked to Tressie’s and her lover almost flinched with the intensity of her smoldering look. “For the fight, and for after, my love,” she purred in a voice like liquid velvet.

#star wars #sith #swtor rp #my writing #carasilvaart #tehlaen #mav'reth #tressie de'roachez #nar shaddaa

[tressieandmavreth]

Get Up (Pt. II of IV)

[[tl;dr: Tressie and Mav’reth go out for an evening of romance and gladiatorial bloodsport on Nar Shaddaa, and they end up participating a bit more than they had bargained for. *** CW: Language, violence, some sexual themes. *** Written by @tehlaen, who plays Mav’reth; Tressie belongs to @carasilvaart​.]]

“Something’s missing.” Mav’s browspurs drew in in an exaggerated frown and one glittering gold fingernail tapped plush lips.

A spark of self-consciousness flared in Tressie’s citrine eyes--but the gleam of humor in Mav’reth’s quickly smothered it. “Yeah? Like what?”

Mav smiled and stepped up to her, fingers plucking at imaginary specks of lint. “Mmhmm. The vest is a classic and you’ve got the long legs and slender hips for the trousers. But…”

Tressie’s browspurs twitched. “But what?”

“Accessories.” Mav’reth gave her a shark-like smile--too wide, too sharp, too full of teeth.

Tressie looked aghast. “Mav. Love. Bracelets and dangly earrings and stuff might do it for a Lady like you, but that ain’t me.”

Full lips came together in a pout. “Tressie, my darling, you make it sound like you don’t trust my judgment.”

The taller Pureblood’s cheeks flushed. “I didn’t say--”

Mav cut her off with a soft kiss. “Then trust me, my darling, and if you don't like it, I shan’t make you wear it.”

“Awright,” she replied somewhat sheepishly.

“Thank you. Now close your eyes, darling.” Tressie did as she said--and Mav stood on tiptoes to kiss her eyelids to make sure. She left a slow, lingering kiss on her lips, and her fingertips skimmed down the fine fabric of the vest.

Behind closed lids, Tressie’s citrine eyes flicked this way and that as she strained to hear Mav’reth’s footsteps moving away. For someone so fond of clacky shoes and bone-shattering, skull-cleaving swordblows, Mav’s knack for moving soundlessly was, to Tressie’s mind, pretty fuckin’ unnerving.

The faint squeak of the cabinet sliding open betrayed her, and Tressie fought to keep her lips from quirking in a grin at Mav’s soft sigh of irritation. The rustle of paper made sense--but the soft hiss gave her no indication of what Mav had in store for her.

“Put your arms up and out to your sides, Tressie dearest,” Mav said, from close enough that it made her jump. Her brows angled in and down in consternation as Mav’s nimble fingers went to work on her belt.

“Mav? I ain’t sure we got time for that.”

The Sith’s fingers stopped what they were doing and the silence stretched on. Tressie could practically feel Mav staring at her in skeptical disbelief.

“...What?”

“Tressie, darling…” The humor in Mav’s voice was as dry as Kaasian wine. “You have sorely misread the situation.”

“Oh.” Tressie covered her embarrassment with a sheepish grin. “Then, uh… Keep goin’, I guess?”

“So kind,” she answered dryly. She unbuckled Tressie’s belt and tugged it off… with perhaps a tad more force than was strictly called for, Tressie thought, as she stumbled half a step. Mav slipped around behind her, pressing herself to Tressie’s back and planting a warm kiss between her lover’s shoulderblades, as if by way of apology for the unnecessary roughness. Her arms wrapped loosely around Tressie’s waist as she guided the belt through the loops on her trousers.

“Eyes closed,” Mav murmured, and Tressie wasn’t sure if the Sith had seen her lids flutter or if she could read Tressie that easily. “I’ll tell you when, darling.”

“Awright,” Tressie mumbled and screwed her eyes shut. SHe managed to only jump a little as the strap tightened around her thigh.

“Now…?”

Mav’reth’s rich laughter filled Tressie’s ears at the childlike anticipation in the question, and she swatted playfully at her bum. “Not yet. Honestly, darling.”

Curiosity overtook Tressie’s innate jumpiness, and she shrugged easily into the loops that Mav maneuvered around her arms. Mav’s fingers tickled the bony ridges between her shoulderblades as they adjusted the strap and a delicious, electric shiver coursed up her spine.

Warm breath lapped at her cheek and the shiver turned to a warm tightness between her legs. Down, girl, she chided herself in her head. Show some fuckin’ composure, would ya?

“There,” Mav purred. “Now you may look.”

Tressie’s eyelids went up like they were springloaded, and her jaw dropped. The rich burgundy of the leather of the matching shoulder holster and gunbelt was too raw, too exquisitely imperfect to be the result of dyeing. Each individual durasteel stud was capped with a perfectly formed sunblaze gemstone the color of Tressie’s eyes.

Mav stood behind Tressie, standing on her toes to peer over her shoulder. As Tressie’s citrine eyes traced the curves of Mav’s gift to her, Mav fixed her gaze on her lover’s face. Every subtle widening of Tressie’s eyes, every hitch of her breath, every quirk of her lips made Mav’s heart swell and hammer at the inside of her ribcage.

“Love… Mav’reth… It’s incredible.” Tressie met Mav’reth’s eyes in the mirror and gave her that good-ol’-boy grin. Mav let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, relief washing away nervousness she would never have admitted to. “You like it?” she asked, voice soft with uncharacteristic shyness.

Tressie turne dand took her lover’s cheeks in both hands, thumbs tracing her cheekbones. “I love it. I love you.” She tipped her head down and her lips found Mav’reth’s. The two Pureblood lovers’ contented sighs slipped between their lips practically in unison, and Mav’reth laid her head on Tressie’s chest with her crown tucked under her chin.

Slender fingers grazed the leather and Tressie’s browspurs drew in as she tried to place the texture. “What’s this? Doesn’t feel like nerf hide.”

Mav sniffed haughtily and hrmph’ed. “Nerf? Hardly, my love. Nothing so… tame.” Her lip curled and Tressie knew Mav didn’t mean it in the sense of “conventional” or “unremarkable.”  “It’s scyk skin. Carnivorous reptiles from some otherwise-worthless dustball in the Outer Rim,” she explained.

Tressie gave the strap an experimental tug. “Sturdy, huh?”

“Quite. Sturdy enough my blade wouldn’t pierce it. I had to break its jaws open to kill it,” Mav answered offhandedly.

Tressie’s head reared back and she started down at Mav’reth wide-eyed. The Sith blinked in surprise and met her gaze incredulously. “What is it, darling?”

“You killed the beast yourself? Barehanded?”

“Yes…?” Mav’s brow furrowed. “Why? Are you bothered?”

Tressie’s toes curled inside her boots and she met Mav’s inquiring gaze with a look of her own, open and heated. “You got me hot and bothered alright, love.”

Mav ran her fingers through Tressie’s hair and scraped lightly at her scalp with her nails. Her head tipped up and this time the kiss was fiery and fierce, a playful growl rumbling from Mav’reth’s chest and echoed by Tressie.

“That’s the reaction I was hoping for,” Mav said a little breathlessly when they finally broke the kiss--lips tender from nipping and tugging with sharp teeth. She smiled radiantly and her eyes gleamed with lust and love. “Now you’re ready to take me out,” she purred.

#star wars #swtor rp #sith #carasilvaart #my writing #tehlaen #tressie de'roachez #mav'reth #nar shaddaa

[tressieandmavreth]

Get Up (Pt. I of IV)

[[tl;dr: Tressie and Mav’reth go out for an evening of romance and gladiatorial bloodsport on Nar Shaddaa, and they end up participating a bit more than they had bargained for. *** CW: Language, violence. *** Written by @tehlaen, who plays Mav’reth; Tressie belongs to @carasilvaart.]]

“You’re gettin’ dolled up,” Tressie’s voice sounded from the doorway. “I forget a date night or somethin’?”

Mav’reth glanced up and met her lover’s eyes in the mirror. Tressie gave her that beaming, lopsided tomboy grin--tinged with just a hint of sheepishness, as if her joke were meant to cover in case an occasion had slipped her mind. The boyish slant to her grin made Mav’reth’s heart flutter, and she answered with a radiant, gleaming white smile of her own.

“There’s a prize fight at that…” Mav’reth pursed her lips and focused on her earrings, buying time to choose her words. “... Establishment you’re so fond of.”

Tressie gave her a blank look and she clarified, “The one with that obnoxious, nosy Bothan running the bar.”

Tressie’s citrine eyes blinked twice, then she gave a surprised laugh. “Love, I run the spice biz in the back of the place and deal to the pitfighters. I dunno if that makes me ‘fond’ of it. Or that bantha-fuckin’ shitwad of a Bothan tryin’ to take a cut.”

Mav’reth straightened and turned to face Tressie. Her smile sharpened to an almost predatory grin as her lover’s jaw dropped, and she gave a little pirouette. The flared skirt swirled, the gauzy, translucent fabric revealing nothing but hinting at so much. Mav’reth turned her head and caught just a brief glimpse of the lasting impression her bare back left on Tressie. When she completed her spin, her lover’s lips curled in an identical wolfish grin.

“I’m certain you’ll bring that nuisance around to your way of thinking.” Mav’s rings glinted gold as she waved a hand dismissively. “Your rough charms make you oh so persuasive, my love.”

Dark spots of deep crimson burned on Tressie’s cheeks and Mav’reth felt a sudden, intense warmth in her own. To cover the blush she was certain was near to lighting up the room, she stepped into the circle of Tressie’s arms and kissed the point of her chin, between the bony spurs. “As I was saying,” she mumbled, using the brief kiss to collect herself, “there’s a fight, and I want you to take me out to it.”

The hitch in Tressie’s breath--and in her voice--told Mav she’d had the desired effect… and put her back on an even keel.

“Beautiful dame insists I take her out for a night on the town? It’d be ungentlemanly to turn her down.”

Short, artfully manicured nails scraped lightly at the ridges at the nape of Tressie’s neck as Mav’s hand slid over her shoulder and up the back of her neck. Full lips brushed Tressie’s as the Sith murmured, “And I couldn’t abide a lover to treat me so ungentlemanly. I’d be absolutely…. Bereft…” she breathed, then pulled Tressie into an all-too-brief kiss. “So get dressed, my darling. I want to be seen on your arm.”

#star wars #swtor rp #sith #carasilvaart #my writing #tehlaen #nar shaddaa #mav'reth #tressie de'roachez #star wars the old republic

[tressieandmavreth]

Mav’reth convinced Tressie to let her paint her nails.... in exchange for Tressie getting to mess up her fancy coif and replace it with simple braids. (Mav’reth definitely got the better end of the bargain.) 

But Did You Die?

@tehlaen

Tressie: “I don’ let anyone paint my nails…. but I’ll let’cha paint em. I mean. I can rock black nail polish…… right??????”

Mav’reth can be a sweetie when she wants: blue and black nail polish to match Tressie’s gang colors. (Adorbs!)

#sith #star wars #star wars art #illustration #carasilvaart #mav'reth #teh'laen

[tressieandmavreth]

((A little context: Mav’reth promised to never Force Choke Tressie without her permission. An odd little caveat that probably didn’t make much sense to Tressie at the time--after all, who’d ever voluntarily want to have their air- or bloodflow restricted? >_>  <_<  As for Tressie’s little bit of mischief... Mav’reth’s toybox is, shall we say, very complete. Tressie’s not sure what more than half of it is for--though rest assured, Mav’reth’s gonna make sure she finds out--but phallic objects? Teeheeheehee! ....Tressie’s got the sense of humor of a 12-year-old.))

Poor Life Choices

@tehlaen

Tressie still finds dildos odd… they go on foreheads…. right? :D

Mav: “If there is a bottle of glue in your back pocket, darling, you had best start running. Or praying. Either will do as much good.”

#sith #star wars #doodle #illusutration #carasilvaart #dildosarelol #mav'reth #tressie #teh'laen

[tressieandmavreth]

((A quick doodle by @carasilvaart of, I think, Tressie and Mav’s very first in-game meeting ;) Since it was an RP convo, I’m claiming credit for my half of the dialogue!))

Poor Tressie. Her tomboy-ness was put in question by Mav. Was a FUN Rp :)

#sith #star wars #illustration #doodle #carasilvaart #mav'reth #tressie #teh'laen

[tressieandmavreth]

((Tressie has the sense of humor of a 12-year-old boy sometimes... ^_^ Art by @carasilvaart, prose (such as it is) by @tehlaen.))

Looks like Tressie is up to no good again. ;) I think she’s bit off more than she can chew this time! Part Two will be out soon! Keep a eye out for it! :D

@tehlaen is the owner of Mav’reth, The  Beautiful Sunbathing Pureblood~

#star wars #star wars art #comic #illustration #carasilvaart #tressie #mav'reth #teh'laen #rishi

[tressieandmavreth]

@tehlaen‘s Pureblood Mav’reth.

I LOVE Mav’reth as a character. She’s such a sexy Pureblood and her personality matches her looks! ;)

ALSO.

THAT ASS THOUGH.

That is all. :)

Commissions Are Open:

My DA:

#star wars art #star wars #sith #illustration #carasilvaart #mav'reth #pureblood #star wars the old republic

[tressieandmavreth]

I’ve been Rping with @tehlaen and I drew her Pureblood Mav’reth. Her character is SOOOOO much fun. :) 

Commissions Are Open:

My DA:

#sith #illustration #star wars art #star wars #carasilvaart #mav'reth

[tressieandmavreth]

Certain... activities.... or states of mind.... can bring out the orange in Mav’reth’s eyes...

Mav’reth is a Dominatrix?

This is @tehlaen ‘s Pureblood Mav’reth. 

I decided. To. Ah. Dress her up in Dominatrix outfitting.

*wipes at bleeding nose with a tissue.*

Let’s just say… This piece of art makes me FEEL thinks.

((Full NSFW image under the cut.))

Keep reading

#sith #star wars #star wars art #carasilvaart #domme #mav'reth #dominatrix #nsfw #bdsm

[tressieandmavreth]

Tressie x Mav’reth - First Kiss

Mav’reth and Tressie 

Mav’reth belongs to @tehlaen and @tehlaen also wrote a short bit down below the cut to go along with the illustration!

This piece… *Fans self* Er. Yeah. They’re so perfect toooogeeeeeetttttther.  This piece of art comes from a Rp scene between @tehlaen and myself. Mav’reth figured out Tressie’s secret!

Commissions are Open:

My Da:

((NSFW below the cut))

Keep reading

#star wars #star wars art #sith #illustration #carasilvaart #teh'laen's writing #mav'reth #tressie #nsfw #star wars the old republic #swtor rp

[tressieandmavreth]

carasilvaart‌:

The New Goddess Mav’reth

@tehlaen​‘s Pureblood Mav’reth is a fuuucking Goddess. Can’t nobody else convince me otherwise!

#star wars art #star wars #sith #illustration #carasilvaart #mav'reth #pureblood #star wars the old republic

[tressieandmavreth]

carasilvaart‌:

                            Purposefully Unexpected

                                           Art by @carasilvaart​                                               Story by @tehlaen

                                            Theme Music Here:

Tressie stood against the wall in the far back corner of the upscale cantina, trying not to fidget or look as out of place as she felt. It wasn’t exactly high society, but it was fancy enough that she’d put on a suit and limited herself to concealed weaponry instead of the blue-and-black leathers of her crew and veritable arsenal she preferred for making deals. Her contact was a no-show, but she’d decided to stick around to see if she couldn’t find some way to turn the evening around. Citrine eyes swept the joint, looking for her kind of scum.

A flash of blue and the glint of gold drew the gangster’s attention to the main entrance, and her mouth went dry. Mav’reth stood in the doorway, the rich blue shimmersilk of her gown hugging her curves. She paused, scanning the room, and when her gaze met Tressie’s, there was a flash of something in those opal eyes that made Tressie’s pulse race—not recognition, but satisfaction. The corner of Mav’reth’s lip twitched and she broke eye contact to continue her careful sweep of the room. She made a show of considering and discarding less interesting—or merely lesser—companions, and she looked back to Tressie. Mav’reth’s eyes blinked slowly once, twice, then she started across the room, aimed directly for Tressie.

Tressie took a long sip of dark Rishi rum and tried to slow her racing heart. Mav’reth strode—no, sauntered—no; her pace was too careful, her stride too measured, and the set of her eyes too determined. Stalked, Tressie decided; that was the word. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end and she swallowed around the lump in her throat. She stood up a little straighter, shoulders back, but she refused to abandon her laconic slouch against the wall. She stubbed the cigarra out against the wall and ran slender fingers through artfully mussed hair.

“Hey.” Tressie’s greeting came out just barely more articulate than a grunt, and she fought to shift the scowl on her lips into something pleasantly neutral.

“Tressie, darling, what an unexpected pleasure,” Mav’reth replied, and by the gleam in her eyes, Tressie could tell that neither of them thought it even remotely coincidental or unexpected.

“Yeah? Sorry, ya look familiar, but I can’t place ya.” As if she could forget…

Mav’reth’s lip twitched in a smirk, recognizing Tressie’s feigned forgetfulness for what it was. She held out one hand, palm down, fingers curled toward the floor. “Of course, how presumptuous of me. Lady Mav’reth ly Giandi. A pleasure.”

Tressie took her hand and gave her fingers a warm squeeze, hoping the Sith wouldn’t notice the tremor in her own fingers. She did a good job, she thought, of covering the shiver as Mav’reth squeezed back. She had to swallow once before she could get words through a bone-dry throat. “Pleasure’s all mine, Lady Mav’reth.”

Mav’reth took a small step closer, an enigmatic smile on her lips. She canted one hip as she leaned on the wall, posted up on one arm, with her fingers barely grazing the sleeve of Tressie’s jacket. Something hungry flashed in Mav’reth’s eyes, and Tressie’s breath hitched, feeling suddenly boxed in.

Tressie kept the fierce scowl off her lips and turned inward—for allowing herself to feel trapped by the shorter woman… and even more so for the part of her that reveled in the reaction the Sith provoked in her.

Mav’reth’s eyes flashed and she purred in a voice like liquid velvet, “Not yet, it isn’t, Tressie, darling… But very, very soon.”

#star wars #sith #star wars the old republic #illustration #carasilvaart #tehlaen #mav'reth #tressie