Ziost - Crown of the Sith Empire

For the second time in as many evenings, Tyr stomped to Xal’s door. S’becoming a habit, and the shistavanen’s gut twisted. The feeling was unfamiliar to him, a sort of nausea and unease, not that either of those were particularly familiar, either. Is this what people mean by nervous?. Tyr was big enough, strong enough, and just mad enough to have never had reason to fear for his safety before, and no matter how many fights he got into, he’d never felt nervous, only excited. But this was different. He pushed the bell.

GR8-1 opened the door. It stepped aside and gestured for Tyr to enter.

"He's in the lab."

Tyr brushes past the droid without acknowledgement, droids didn’t have feelings or anything, no matter how clever their programming had gotten. Tyr stomped down to the lab to find the arkanian. He leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Looking for the secret to eternal life—no, wait, you’ve already got that,” he teased gruffly.

"Much sooner than I thought I'd find it." he nodded, offering Tyr a grin. "Did you come for dinner?"

“I came for you,” he quipped without thinking, “but I can stay for dinner.”

"Then, you'll have both." he quipped back. "I have some kaadu ribs that should be delicious."

Tyr licked his muzzle, “sounds delicious, you’re turning into quite the chef,” and that made his stomach clench again.

"Only because I have someone to cook for." he smiled.

Tyr’s insides felt like they were wringing themselves together and anger flared in the shistavanen’s mind, hot and red. He wanted the sensation to go away, but didn’t understand where it came from, with no where to direct his frustration, his thoughts seethed.

Xal began preparing the ribs. "You weren't shot again today, were you?"

Tyr shook himself, tossing his ears, "huh? no, I would have led with that." He moved up close behind Xal, looking over the arkanian's shoulder as he cooked.

"Just checking." he grinned. "I'll need to find another reason to take your clothes off."

"Oh, if that's what you wanted, all you had to do is ask," he nuzzled into Xal's neck below the arkanian's ear.

"I will." he promised. "But, it's a good idea to wear clothes while cooking."

"I'm not the one who's cooking, though," Tyr pointed out, placing his giant mitts on Xal's hips.

"But, I am." he shook his head. "You know how one thing can lead to another."

Tyr half-growled, half-murmured, nuzzling into Xal's neck again. His gravelly voice was slightly muffled, "so I shouldn't try distract you?" a paw slid to the arkanian's crotch.

"Not if you want these ribs." he shook his head. "But, if that's what you came here for..."

Damn, reality came crashing back in like an unwelcome guest. Tyr sighed and withdrew, stomping over to the sink to get a drink of water, he seemed to take up a lot of space.

With the ribs prepared and cooking, Xal washed his hands and moved close to Tyr. He wrapped his arms around the larger man.