Log Date: 5/15, 5/16/97 Log Cast: Shenner, Paul Nighman, Xavier Nighman Log Intro: It is the morning after a rather traumatic night for Shenner, in which she was attacked by a drunken vagrant, and rescued by Trace, a young man she'd met the previous day on the Gold Beaches. Paul's father, Xavier Nighman, attempted to help settle the girl after her return to the house, but has accomplished little in settling her down with his brusque manner. Much to Shenner's surprise, Trace followed her to Dr. Nighman's home, bringing the groceries she thought she'd lost; afterwards, surprising her further, the young man stuck with her in her attempt to locate Paul, who had gone out to look for Shenner. But to Shen's dismay, Trace was wounded in a sudden outbreak of violence on Coronet's streets, and at last, Paul took Shenner back to his father's house, helped her get settled again, and curled up to sleep with her on the couch.... ---------- She cannot remember the last time -- if, indeed, there was any time at all in her life -- when she'd slept with such a feeling of warmth, safety, and security. It is so enticing that she doesn't really want to wake up at all, but eventually, Shenner finds her consciousness floating back to her. With it come scattered fragments of awareness about her surroundings: the temperature of the air, the silence of the house, the soft blanket draped over her and lying lightly against her cheek. And Paul. The sleeping Corellian is partially beneath her, his head turned slightly to one side. He looks scruffier than usual, is hair touseled and disarrayed, the stubble on his face having had a whole day to claim more territory. One arm hangs off the edge of the couch while the other is wrapped loosely over Shen's hip and across her back. The forest green robe has come loose during the night to expose one shoulder, the length of his collarbones, and a portion of leanly muscled torso. Shenner lifts her head, slowly, her eyes caught by Paul's drowsing face and form. Loathe to disturb him, she pauses there, propped up on one elbow, gazing at his features in fascination; after a moment, unthinkingly, she lifts her other hand to his face, to brush her fingertips along his stubbled cheek. It's rough, like fine sandpaper, or a cat's tongue. Although her touch is gentle, it's enough to awaken Paul's subconcious, and his head turns in the direction of her fingers, toward the light caress. The girl feels a strange, pleasant tightness somewhere in her chest at that little motion; she can't help but let her hand track a path up to smooth Paul's hair up and away from his forehead, then. As her fingertips trace across a scar under the golden-brown strands, she pauses again. _I did that,_ she thinks, wonderingly, her mind flying back to the memory of the first kiss Paul had ever given her, and what her reply had been. Now, she cannot imagine any other answer except kiss for kiss; the thought is frightening to her, but compellingly so. _You've changed me, Paul Nighman._ Her continued caresses prompt a soft murmur from his throat and he shifts beneath her slightly. It's as if her thoughts were being broadcast, for Paul unconciously draws the arm across her hip upward, pressing her close as he registers her form against him. His eyes flicker open at his unspoken name and at first are a little bewildered. Then they focus on Shenner's face, flit over briefly to the hand at his brow, and back again. The warm golden regard of his gaze, a curl of his lips and the clasp of his other hand on her shoulder is his only greeting. Remembering that she'd given Paul her full name -- Shenneret Veery -- it occurs to her that the change the man has instigated is, perhaps, filling in exactly who Shenneret Veery _is_. 'Shenneret' hangs back, stricken shy by the thought of being coaxed into existence -- but 'Shenner', with years of practice of meeting challenge and change head on, eagerly points out another incoming impulse. As the two find a way to mesh within her head, the girl grins crookedly, then leans slightly forward and gently kisses Paul's cheek, before leaning back again to offer huskily, "Hi." The gold darkens to amber and the hand upon her shoulder slides to her neck in response. He presses there, unwilling to strain upward over much, to bring her face back down to his. "Morning," he rumbles richly, the tones like sun warmed earth. Shen willingly bends her neck back down, shivering a little as her cheek brushes Paul's unshaven one. His eyes take in her features as she allows herself to be drawn closer. "She's here," he thinks to himself. "She's safe." His lips trace hers for a moment in reciprocation and he places a kiss there. In the quietest recesses of his mind, a small voice murmurs, "She's mine," but the rest of his brain pays the little corner no heed. Shenner, it would seem, is improving at kissing -- it is with a bit more confidence that she mimics Paul's softly traced contact to her lips. Then she lifts her head a little once more, just enough to be able to gaze down at him clearly, her eyes soft. Paul's eyes drink in her gaze and there is a corresponding surge of love and affection for this bundle of contradictions that he holds in his arms. He lifts himself up enough to hug her tight, whispering softly against her ear, "I'm glad you're here," speaking in general, in terms of what happened last night, and of the moment. Shenner murmurs back, "Can't think of any place I'd rather be..." She loops an arm under his neck, returning the hug. Dropping a kiss on her cheek for good measure, Paul finally releases his hold on her and slips back down to the couch. "Much as I'd prefer staying right here," he murmurs, "we have a busy day today, and it's never wise to play hooky two days in a row." He smiles at her and brushes a finger across her cheek. Shenner's smile turns crooked again, and she nods steadily, stifling a surge of disappointment. "Trace, then we gotta go see the things at the University," she answers. She is rewarded with a grin. "Ooooh, you see right through me," he quips cheerfully. Although he has proclaimed that they should get a move on, his actions speak louder than his words. He stays right where he is, and his hands begin to absently roam over Shenner's frame, caressing her through the thickness of her robe. Eep? "Paul," she gasps, her breath catching a little; she hasn't had time to move, either, and her face flushes a little at what his hands are starting to do. But she's smiling all the same, in her startlement. Paul can't help but smirk up at her a little bit. His hands were not exploring intentionally before, but they are now. "What?" he queries in return to her breathless use of his name. "Thought you just said it's not wise to play hooky two days in a row," she breathes. He nods sagely. "It's true ... if we were in school, we could get into a lot of trouble," he adds reflectively. His hands don't even pause. One finds the edge of her robe and slips beneath curiously, taking a chance that even he isn't too sure about. "But then again, we're not in school," he murmurs in contradiction. Shenner's entire body quivers; under the robe is the light fabric of her nightgown, warm with having been under her robe and the blanket all night, as well as from her own body heat. Her eyes quiver shut for a moment, as she answers, trying to sound game, "No? Funny... learn something from you every day..." There is something unbelieveable erotic about her instant response, and Paul has to keep actively reminding himself of the many restrictions that he has placed on himself .. restrictions and rules that he finds himself continually breaking. "Is that so?" he murmurs curiously. "You're such an attentive apt pupil," he continues, "that's it's hard for me to know when to stop." His hand traces up the length of her thigh to her hip, only to be hindered by the sash, which is still tied around her waist ... so he simply trails it back down again. Shenner quivers again, her eyes widening as Paul's hand tracks up and down her thigh; that quiver is very easily felt through the thin cloth of her nightgown. Her face flushes lightly, and she appears to be having a bit of trouble breathing. Registering her trembling form pressed against his, Paul catches Shenner's green green gaze with his deepening hazel. "Stop?" he queries lazily, his other hand sweeping up to capture the back of her neck lightly, his fingers caressing. Shenner wets her lips, then slowly shakes her head, conscious of feeling abruptly warmer. That tightness is back in her chest, a little headier now. The hand slips back out from under the robe to glide up and between them. He finds the knot and pulls it loose, then slips his hand underneath again to connect with her ribcage. This time he caresses the entire length of her side, across her hip, and down her thigh, to the edge of her nightgown. He pauses there, fingering the fabric, as if trying to decide whether or not to delve underneath. His other hand presses gently against the nape of her neck, and he raises his head to once again brush her lips with his own, his eyes never leaving hers. Shenner's eyes turn wide and wondering, as she trembles at that contact so close to her skin. With a soft gasp of breath, she gives her kissing some more practice, trying to move her lips as she's felt Paul do. Taking advantage of her small gasp, Paul delves into her mouth, exploring, encouraging, arousing. He murmurs softly, his hand moving into her hair to bring her closer. The other hand hovers undecidedly but then skims back over to the small of her back to press and caress her there, through the fabric of her gown. Shenner twines her arm closer under Paul's neck, and, kissed, caressed, bends pliantly down to him. Her heart starts racing, and, dimly, she wonders if he can feel it. Paul's own heart is beginning to speed up, distracting him from what Shenner's might be up to. He stops thinking and begins reacting. He releases her head to explore her shoulders, his other hand gliding up and then dragging down to the edge of her gown again, this time to boldly slip beneath and trace patterns along her inner thigh. Shenner's skin is warm and soft and cleanly smooth, and her leg trembles in reply to that bold touch; the rest of her follows suit, as she arcs her head up and back from Paul's for a moment, completely forgetting to breathe. Shenner's eyes have dropped closed, and her mouth has drawn together into a small silent 'o' of startled pleasure. His other hand burrows underneath the robe and her gown to stroke upward to one breast, which he passes his palm over while his other hand continues its erotic exploration of the satiny flesh of her inner thigh. His goal now is suddenly to give her as much pleasure as he can, her reaction encouraging him, making him forget himself and focus totally on her. She is _definitely_ warmer than she was a few minutes ago; Shenner can tell this. It is with more than a little amazement, though, that she marks the way her own body is responding to what Paul's hands are doing. Her throat has gone almost entirely dry, and it is still hard to breathe -- but this lightheadedness is a delicious, intoxicating thing, not at all like the frantic gasping for air she'd had to struggle through the night be -- that thought vanishes out of her head before it's completed, though, as she unthinkingly rolls back towards the back of the couch. Taking a cue from her, Paul moves to accomodate her shift in position. His hands part her robe and he hovers slightly over her, to one side. He slips his knee between her thighs, his hand shifting over to play across her hips and the gentle dip of her belly. His own robe has been pushed off of his shoulders, but still encases his arms. His head dips to place a tender bite on her collarbone, grazing there contentedly. Shen still has one arm curved up around the back of Paul's neck; her free hand presses itself softly, then firmly, against his bare chest, as the trembling girl is seized with the sudden need to know whether she'll get the same giddying sensation touching Paul as when he touches her. Her touch sparks a tremor of surprise, and Paul gently nips her chin before fusing his mouth to hers, his right hand and arm burying themselves under her shoulders and claiming the nape of her neck as his. The other hand becomes more aggressive, covering one breast possessively. Out of nowhere comes the disapproving tones of Dr. Nighman from the front doorway. "Try not to let your extracurricular activities make you late today." The door opens as Paul jerks in shock and instinctively pulls Shen's robe over her. There is barely a second of silence before the door closes, with the cynical and disgusted voice of his father muttering more to himself, "Doesn't -anyone- use a -bed- any longer?" The click of the door shutting acts as his punctuation. As if she'd just been doused with cold water, Shenner blinks rapidly, alertness faltering back into her face -- which blushes again, in embarrassment and uncertainty, before her gaze seeks out Paul's. His eyes angry, his face flushed in a combination of arousal and embarrassment. His gaze shifts to Shenner's and he again pulls the robe over her, his eyes softening. "Sorry sweetheart," he murmurs in frustration and dismay. "I wasn't thinking too clearly," he admits uncomfortably, feeling horrible about displaying her in that light to his father, after all of the accusations and denials. He tugs at the edge of her robe. "You okay?" She has to work to stifle this second, stronger surge of disappointment, yet there comes with it a wave of relief as well... and Shenner is not sure which is stronger. The girl tries again to look cheerful and mostly succeeds as she murmurs huskily, "Yeah, I'm alright. It's okay." And she achieves a lopsided smile. Dropping a friendly kiss to her brow, Paul repeats his praise of the previous night, "What a trooper." He then leans back carefully and sits up on the edge of the couch, pulling his robe back into place. "Oh well, guess it's off to work we go." Shenner lets Paul move away, but cannot help watching him as he does, her gaze lingering on his chest where her hand had just touched. "Okay... uhm, you take the bathroom first, and I'll go get dressed...." She gets up, too, crawling out from under the blanket, and padding off into Paul's bedroom. Paul watches her go, a fond smile curling his lips. He shakes his head and stares back down at the couch. Fast. Things were happening very fast between them, and he no longer had any idea what was right or wrong in this situation. He considered briefly setting up a boundary and then chuckled snidely to himself. Since every other boundary had been crossed, why should be believe that this one would hold up any better than its predecessors? Rising from the couch, he rummages through his bag to pull out some fresh clothes and moseys to the bathroom to wash up. [To be continued...]