Chapter Text
The sweat dripped from Sabine’s brow to the straw padding of the flooring as she clutched the slightly curved metallic hilt of the white bladed lightsaber in her bruised and almost bleeding hands. They’d been at this for hours, since the sun would be expected to rise on Lothal, and it was during these hours that Sabine Wren realised how sloppy she’d grown without the Darksaber.
“Boska! Andoba [Come! Again], Sabine Wren,” Ahsoka taunted her with a flash whip of Huttese on her tongue. It was sultry, almost as if spoken from a whore in the Hutt Systems, and yet Sabine could not help but like the sound of it coming along the air in Ahsoka’s gentle and supple voice. It was an expressive expletive that the young Mandalorian had not heard from her mentor in months since leaving Lothal. To say she liked it was an understatement.
Master Tano was ordering her to commit to another routine, another dance, and Sabine was more than up for it, but in the way that she stood, her hips cocked to be more flamboyant and distracting, as well as her sapphire eyes. Sabine sensed that her new mentor was not going to be holding back anymore, not after the failure that this lesson had been thus far.
Sabine activated the white lightsaber Ahsoka had lent to her for the training and rose to her feet again from one knee. She wiped the sweat from her brow and the blood from her lip where the Togruta had knocked her during the previous bout. Then, without explanation or reason, Sabine took the blade to her trappings and cut a precise incision up the side and let it split. She ripped her training scrubs off of her, revealing her chest bound with cloth - she often bound for combat, as was the Mandalorian way of women. Her eyes were boiling pyre and her breath was an invisible flame, in her heart burned the ecstasy of the spar, of the dance. It had been so long since she had fought with a blade, and this one was more real than any melee weapon that had found itself in her palms.
Memories of Maul on Dathomir flashed across her memory, of when she found the Darksaber, and when she felt it call to her. Then when she willingly gave it to Bo-Katan Kryze for the future of Mandalore.
She charged at Ahsoka with the lightsaber pointed at her in a thrusting stance.
Ahsoka almost laughed as she motioned to the side at the final moment with supernatural speed, leaving her own blade exposed and ready to collide with Sabine’s. They did clash, and Ahsoka used the Mandalorian’s weak hold on the sabre to riposte and slap the thing from her fingers. Then, without quarter, Ahsoka thudded her orange-skinned elbow into Sabine’s cheek, bruising her and expelling more blood from her mouth. The teeth were red as Sabine staggered, but stayed on her feet, battle-weary.
“E-Chu-Ta! Karking Jeedi! [Fuck you! Fucking Jedi!]” Sabine cursed back in Huttese, damning Ahsoka and her aptitude in the Force. She had channelled it to side-step so quickly and now the tip of the white lightsaber was pointed at Sabine’s exposed bust.
Sabine eyed a glance to the abandoned hilt on the floor - if she had her gauntlet she would snap it to her grasp with a flick of the wrist. But that was the point of the challenge. Ahsoka was training her to be able to defend herself from other Force-users, from Sith, from Inquisitors - they were all still out there. The Dark Side had not perished with Palpatine and Vader at Endor. There was still evil in the galaxy, and Sabine needed to know how to defend herself from it. But this was pathetic.
“Don’t look at that. Look at me.” Ahsoka snapped, authoritative, like a drill serjeant, like Rex. “You don’t have your gauntlet. You don’t have your blasters. You don’t have your jetpack. You’re naked, Sabine. Now, fix this, and take my blade. Or you’ll leave this room with a new scar on your body.” Ahsoka told her, her eyes conveying the deadly truth. She wanted something more than this, she wanted what she had seen during her time with the crew of the Ghost. This was sloppy and sluggish, and this was not the Sabine Wren of sixteen and seventeen years of age. The Sabine Wren of twenty-five needed a kick, and Ahsoka would give it to her.
Her body was littered with scars, trophies of good battles and fights that had seen her spill her own blood before winning or living to see an eventual victory. Going back to Mandalore had given her additions in her life. Lothal had given the most; The Grand Inquisitor, Seventh Sister and Fifth Brother, Grand Admiral Thrawn, even standard troopers. All had managed to pierce her but not kill her. No one would ever kill her. She refused.
She and Ashoka locked eyes for silent moments, with only the hum of the lightsaber sounding off. Both were surveying their next move.
Eventually, Ahsoka slashed at Sabine’s midriff, but the Mandalorian backstepped and used the wall of the dojo to kick herself into the air. She predicted Ahsoka slashing at her again, so followed through, knowing the mentor would change strategy expecting Sabine to do the same. The plan worked, which meant it wouldn’t next time, so Sabine vaulted to the right, and instead of ducking, knowing Ahsoka would stop her, she somersaulted back and grabbed the lightsaber as her hands hit the deck.
Landing perfectly and knowing an attack was coming, Sabine gripped the hilt with both hands and defended her stance, locking blades with Ahsoka in a glorious stalemate, both pushing strength into their blades.
Heat rose, and Sabine felt the radiation of the temperature from the laser of the swords, sweating more.
When they disengaged, Sabine took a chance, and instead of coming back to gain strength, she jabbed a quick slash of her own and nipped at Ahsoka’s garb with the tip of her lightsaber. The shirt came apart to reveal Ahsoka’s exposed bosom, in all the glory of it. But Sabine did not avert her eyes from her mentor’s and nor did the Togruta feel exposed. This was intense with a beautiful pyre and euphoria that pushed both women to their limit, and it was completely what Ahsoka wanted.
They stood opposite, Ahsoka holding the hilt behind her in her age-old stance and Sabine holding the thing defiantly in front of her, like Luke Skywalker did.
Sabine was smiling though, if anything out of the comedy of it all. “Yuna puna… Re leah [First Class… Very nice].” She complimented her mentor’s shape and form, taking in a short glance at her bust.
“Panwa pateesa, con kwee-kunee [Enjoy friend, inferior queen],” Ahsoka taunted, lunging forward with a thrust of her blade and catching Sabine’s lightsaber.
The Mandalorian lacked skill enough to riposte, she simply deflected the strike and twirled into her own, catching Ahsoka’s sword again and engaging in a dance of flourishing strikes and slashes, pushing her strength into the semi-naked mentor. It was glorious. The rhythm, the lines, the fluidity of the combat, and even the stakes and the heat. Sabine felt the sweat shaking from her as her mouth bled inside of her. She quickly spat out a wad of blood before coming at Ahsoka again with a swing from the left, letting the handsome Togruta duck and come at her with an overhanded twirl of her sabre. Sabine brought the white blade up slanted to catch the blow and felt her muscles buckle and spasm when the contact came upon her. She was tired. Her palms were even bleeding slightly from gripping the metal for so long and so tightly. Sabine didn’t dare fight with Ezra’s lightsaber, it didn’t feel right to use it now without knowing how to wield it as he could.
Sabine managed to pull off one final leap, right up and over Ahsoka, landing behind her, and both women twirled to halt as their blades edged close to the other’s throat. There they stayed in heavy breathing for moments, until Ahsoka smiled.
“Nagoola [Not bad].” Ahsoka stated with a sly smile, deactivating her lightsaber and Sabine doing the same, almost blushing as she felt a little proud of herself. She handed the hilt back to her mentor and bowed.
Then she came back up, and laid eyes on the nakedness she had reduced her teacher to - bare orange breasts looking full and endowed in front of her making her inner desires flare with the same intensity that had just ceased. She looked away immediately and then did blush, out of both embarrassment and lust. “I… am so so sorry about that, Master Tano. We were in the heat of the moment…” Sabine choked a little, but before she could move, Ahsoka’s hands were on her shoulders, turning her around and pushing herself against Sabine, in turn pushing herself to the wall, pressing those large and so soft mounds into the Mandalorian’s toned and succulent shape.
“Vopa je? [Would you like me?]” Ahsoka asked, sticking with the sultry vocabulary of her Huttese knowledge. She could sense the effect it was having on Sabine. Her deep eyes were swirling with want, especially now, as Ahsoka’s breasts were pressed to her frame, and as their lips traced so close together, desperate for a kiss. The older Togruta wanted Sabine so much she could hardly control herself anymore - the younger Mandalorian was exactly what she wanted, what she desired so much the urge to ask her for it was like fire in her core. Her breasts tingled slightly with elevated sensitively and the montrals resting down to her orange bosom were the same, begged to be touched. They never felt like this. Ahsoka was burning for Sabine.
Sabine pushed her lips to her mentor’s and kissed her so deeply they both moaned into it. Hands came to Ahsoka’s breasts and began to knead and fold and squeeze so gently and yet profoundly that Ahsoka’s core began to weep with euphoria. Between her sculpted legs, she felt the wetness and a buzzing sensation that sang to her like a siren song as she kissed Sabine slowly and with intent. She bit the Mandalorian’s lip and kissed her neck, nipping at that soon too as her own strong hands came to Sabine’s bound rack.
The younger woman was almost being stifled, but she loved it so, taking the submissive role and letting Ahsoka have her merry way with her scarred and hardened body. Her own sex hummed to her, begging for something, begging for contact and release already.
“Sabine…” Ahsoka gasped, breathlessly and so needy she pushed herself forward a little more, reaching for the Mandalorian’s leg and pulling it up, gracing her succulent rear with a gentle hand while she kissed at the woman’s clavicle.
Wren was out of breath herself, overwhelmed with the pleasure coursing through her frame the more and more the gorgeous Togruta woman treated her body as if it were the highest-grade silk in all the galaxy. Orange-skinned fingers moved all over her own tanned flesh like a painter crafting the finest work of art. Sabine felt like it - Ahsoka made her feel like art. Her mind warped as she felt the tracings of fingers down her thigh and between her legs, coming under her underwear and taking, cautiously to her sex.
“May I…?” Ahsoka asked, waiting so ultimately for consent. It was paramount.
“Karking tagwa… [Fucking yes].” Sabine cursed audibly, her words shaking as they left her lips.
Instead of feeling fingers grace her silk, Sabine was shocked when the hand near her jolted, and pulled down her underwear to her ankles, letting Ahsoka fall to her knees, hoisting the Mandalorian’s legs over her shoulders and letting the woman rest easy as the Togruta’s beautiful lips came to her folds, her tongue penetrating her and sending fireworks all over Sabine’s body as Ahsoka began to taste her.
With Ahsoka’s lips at her sex, her tongue gathering a sweet bounty of wetness to ingest, Sabine yelled out loudly in ecstasy as the titillations shot through her rapidly. Her heart was beating itself into Hyperspace and her exhausted body was a servant, helpless to catch up. The sensations pulsing from between her thighs were so powerful it kept her pinned against the wall as she let her weight rest upon her lover’s shoulders. All the while, Ahsoka pleasured her devoutly with exquisite oral. Her sex released more wetness the more it continued, it was simply so resplendent.
Sabine’s hands snaked down to the back of Ahsoka’s head, careful and weary of her splendid and proud montrals to find a safe place to lay her hands. The mentor stopped her series of deep tongue swirls for a moment to catch a breath.
“You can…” She stammered, feeling a plethora of wetness at her own sex as she touched herself momentarily. She was so wet. Ahsoka’s opulent eyes gazed up at Sabine’s and they shared a spark of even wider lust. “You can hold onto them… If you’d want to… I don’t mind.” She suggested, feeling so vulnerable about offering but knowing how intense and profaned it would feel to have Sabine clutching her montrals as she ate the toned Mandalorian out against the wall.
Before Sabine could bring herself to accept the esteemed honour of holding the horns of Ahsoka’s lovely montrals or even say anything, the sensual Togruta took her lips back to the silky fold they loved to taste so deeply. Sabine was like a well of nourishment, of sapphic fuel to Ahsoka’s deepest raptures. The Mandalorian was helpless but to hold onto the horns like handlebars or the railing of protection as Ahsoka took to tasting her once more, as deeply as before with her tongue swirling inside of the younger vanguard.
“Chuba! [Fuck!]” Sabine unleashed into the temperate climate of the air as she relaxed back against the wall and let Ahsoka have her way with her dripping and wetly smeared sex below.
With a flailing arm, Sabine gripped the bindings at her chest and began to hurriedly to unravel them from her chest. She wanted to be as bodily naked as the woman drinking from her sex so uninterruptedly. She soon got them off as well, holding one hand at her own perky yet smaller breasts and the other back down, gripping Ahsoka’s horn with courteous intentions. “You’re… Incredible…” Sabine gasped, void of breath and feeling like her body was to burst into flames the more and more her temperature rose. How was this real? The sensations were like stars all over her glorious body. When she peered down, wanting to look more at her lover’s face, she found her orange-fleshed arm retreating between her own legs and the traces of hand and finger motions.
Ahsoka was touching herself. Rubbing, even fingering her own no doubt beauteous folds and letting her wetness gather on the floor. Sabine covered her mouth as she felt the sudden shudder of release collapse from her internal bow.
“I’m gonna…! I’m coming!” Wren lamented into the air with such force her body curled forward as if leaning on a speeder. Her whole frame buckled like the foundations of a cruise under siege and she felt Ashoka bring hands at her rear to hold her close, but the tongue around and inside of her sex did not let up. The woman was coaxing the orgasm from her like a sacred rite. But Sabine could not hold it or control it. The orgasm came as a wash of lush wetness and followed along the path into Ahsoka’s mouth, and the Mandalorian tasted so sublime, the Togruta moaned almost as loudly as Wren while her climax rode through her like stampeding bantha.
Ahsoka let her down easily, craning into a bow of almost reverence over the younger woman’s robust body. It was as if she prayed to Sabine, and it sparked something in the Mandalorian that nothing sexual ever had.
Sabine began to cry.
“Hey… Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” Tano asked, coming to her lover and wrapping arms around her. They were both completely naked now - their clothes in tatters or otherwise destroyed around the dojo between both dances. She embraced Sabine so tenderly and smoothly her limbs caressing felt like sheets of fabric. How could anyone be so soft?
The younger woman hadn't noticed, she was so overwhelmed. She felt her tears come down her cheeks and wiped her eyes, chuckling a little at how silly it felt. “Oh! Chuba [Dammit]. I don’t know why I’m crying… I never cry after sex…”
Ahsoka gave her a loving and doting squeeze, cuddling her closer as they lay themselves on the plain floor. It was oddly comfortable. “Crying never has to be a sign of sadness. Or weakness,” she spoke, so softly, and lightly. Then Ahsoka smiled. “Perhaps…”
“Perhaps… What?”
Tano kissed her, differently this time, it was so much more loving and gentle. “Perhaps you’re crying because you just really liked it this time.”
Smiling herself, Sabine kissed the elder woman back, cupping her lovely cheek and holding her closely on the floor.
“You got that right… Master…”