Out-of-millicanon shenaniganings.

[stuck_mynock]

Atton is in the Paradox Squadron hanger (Force knows how they managed to get a hanger into the upper floors at the bar, Atton just isn't going to ask), doing repairs on his Dart.

(The Dart is a good ship. A compact, one-person light fighter in an arrowhead shape, coloured dark grey, with as many guns as the Republic's engineers could fit on it. It's one of the smaller ships there, with only the A-Wings being smaller, and even then not by much.

The Paradox Squadron symbol is etched on one wing, along with a tally of kills which is somewhat astronomical.)

This involves lying on his stomach on the top of the ship, curved over the cockpit, in jeans, an undershirt (both oil-soaked) and a rather large welding mask, poking at an open panel with something that sparks every so often.

"Shhhh, shhhh, darling. S'okay, we're nearly there ..."

Comments

[necessary_child]

"Mmm."

Sam bucks back! What, like he was going to be put off or something?

"I'm sorry, did you have a point? Aside from the obvious one."

[stuck_mynock]

Fine, two can play at that game. Atton bucks back, harder.

"My point is that you're foolish."

[necessary_child]

Sam groans, quietly ... and then, not to be outdone, squirms back.

"And you're ugly!"

[stuck_mynock]

Atton groans, then grinds against Sam.

"Not as ugly as you!"

[necessary_child]

"I am beautiful and you're a liar!"

Sam pushes back, hips lifting to meet Atton's.

"A filthy liar!"

[stuck_mynock]

"Lies," Atton bucks his hips down harder. "All lies."

[necessary_child]

Sam groans, but doesn't let up. That would be tantamount to letting Atton win, after all.

"Only you are lying!"

[stuck_mynock]

"No! That too is a lie!"

Atton does roll off Sam, though, for reasons of dignity.