Work Text:
He was thrown to the ground, his face pressed into the foul soil of Dathomir's jungle.
"Show me see his skin!"
He fought, but calloused hands tore his elegant jacket and shirt apart. Fingertips ran over his bare back. It took every ounce of his will to accept this as a systematic examination and not a sick caress.
"Vos. Dryden Vos." The voice too was a challenge. Dark and raw, yet also pliant like velvet. "There was a Jedi by the name of Vos. Do you know him by chance?"
No, thought the addressed, my skin is striped like yours.
