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bunny7567 · 18 days ago

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I'm not sure just how far this road will go (Part 2)

Pairing: Fox x Padawan!Reader / Fox x fem!Reader

Summary: After weeks of distance and silence, the fleeting moment you shared with Fox seems destined to fade into memory. But your Commander in scarlet armor has other ideas.

Word count: 8.7k (when i said he possessed me...) Tags/Warnings: NSFW 18+; the plot got in the porn again; fingering; semi?-public sex; pinv sex; unprotected sex (armor up your little trooper before deployment guys); armor kink if you squint; pov parkour because I like knowing what everyone is thinking; so much fucking angst; slightly even more awkward!Reader; soft!Fox; would anyone be interested in a part 3?

Read part 1 here.

ori'vod - older brother ; vod'ika - little sister vod - brother ; vode - brothers cyar'ika - sweetheart, darling ner - my mesh’la - beautiful Jetti - Jedi shebs - ass

As much as you couldn't wait to message him when you got his frequency, you surprisingly simply... didn't. You got back to your cabin, all giddy and excited, you opened his comm channel and... you froze. You stared at the small typing bar flickering on the screen for what felt like hours urging your brain to let you do anything.

Cody said he asked for your frequency first, that meant he wanted to talk you – logically you knew this. But your damn anxious brain wouldn't let you message him.

You deleted what had to be five attempts at nice, normal greetings, scoffing at the weird phrasing. Everything you wrote felt off, as if you suddenly forgot all the Basic you've been speaking for your entire life. The words looked wrong and you triple checked the spelling on almost all of them, worried that you'd gotten the simplest ones like 'mission', 'system' and even 'weeks' wrong. It was infuriating.

After half an hour of staring at your comm you gave up, threw it on your bed and jumped in the shower, vowing to finally send a simple 'hi' once you were done.

But that was six weeks ago.

You're sitting on a cot in the medbay now, watching the clone medics milling around. The battle was long and exhausting, but it's finally ended and you're en route to Coruscant. You're not injured – you're there for moral support for Waxer, who caught a stray blaster bolt right at the end of the siege. He'll be fine, nothing major – you're actually in there to keep yourself distracted if you're honest.

You still haven't commed him. You thought about it daily, but you kept putting it off. And now you're on your way back to Coruscant where you'll spend the next seven rotations while the men finally have some much-earned leave.

And you're terrified.

Has he thought of you at all these past weeks? Does he still want to see you? You'd know if you'd managed to kriffing comm him… But your anxiety and insecurities didn't allow it. And well, there was also the other issue… the small, impossible-to-ignore issue of, you know, the fact that you’re a Jedi. You’re not supposed to form attachments. Not supposed to get involved with a clone. Not supposed to be hiding in the medbay, unable to focus on anything around you because all you can think about is seeing Fox again.

Will you even run into him? You don't really see how your paths might intersect – you have no business in the Senate, he has no business in the Temple.

Maybe at the 79s? But he's rarely there. In all the times you’ve been there with Cody, Rex and the other troublemakers of the 501st, you've never seen him in.

No... you doubt you'll run into him unless you actually pick up the comm and send him a message.

But it's been so long. Six standard weeks of no contact. And after what? One single night of drunken mistakes? One amazing night that you can't get out of your head... But who are you kidding – the odds of him clinging to it the same way as you have are slim. There's no way he's still thinking about you.

Fox watches the stream of troopers pour out of the transports, his eyes scanning for any sign of Jedi robes among the orange-painted plastoid.

He’s not really supposed to be there. He happened to be on patrol in the area, noticed the transports coming down, and decided to wait for Cody since he'd not seen him in a while.

Well… that’s the story he'll give him and anyone else who asks what he’s doing at the main Base. But the truth is he'd arranged his schedule this way. He wanted to be in the area, knowing that the 212th was returning on-world.

He wanted to run into you.

Fox had tried a second time to get your frequency from Cody – a couple of days after his vod had refused to give it to him – and he learned that you've also asked for his. And Cody gave it to you.

So Fox waited.

And waited.

And waited…

The first rotation passed as it usually did, with Fox dealing with the banthashit thrown at him by various senators or the Chancellor. He’d not even had the time to check his comm until the evening, and when he finally did, he was disappointed to see there was no message from you. He hadn’t even realised how much he’d been expecting it…

The next rotations were spent checking his comm increasingly often. At first it was a couple of time throughout the day, but as the days turned into weeks and you still had not reached out to him, Fox began to check it constantly… obsessively.

After four weeks he caved and sent a comm to Cody.

CC–1010: Are you sure you gave her the correct frequency?

His brother’s response came excruciatingly slow – the 212th was in the middle of a siege after all.

CC–2224: I did. She hasn’t messaged? CC–1010: Oh she has, we’ve been talking all day, every day, and I’ve commed you for no kriffin’ reason. CC–2224: Don’t take it out on me, vod. She probably came to her senses. It sucks, I get it. But she’s Jetti. You’re a GAR officer. I suggest you follow her example and snap out of it. CC-1010: Thanks, vod. Always such a pleasure speaking to you.

He hated this. Hated that he expected something from you. That a part of him – the part that should’ve known better – kept hoping you hadn’t forgotten what it meant, even if it had only been once. You’d been his moment of warmth in a never-ending sea of anxiety, pressure and political nonsense. You’d been the first real connection he’d felt with another person in way too long.

And he thought you’d felt it too.

Cody was right, however. Fox had to snap out of it. He had to get his head back in the game. He was the commanding officer of the Corries. He had a duty to the Chancellor, to the people of Coruscant, to his vode. He had to focus on that. He had to get you out of his mind.

And yet, every time the comm lit up, he checked it.

And every time, it wasn’t you.

To his credit, Fox really did try to let it go. He tried to focus on anything else – even on the conversations of senators he usually tuned out. But you wouldn’t leave him. You haunted his dreams, your face appeared clear as day in front of him every time he closed his eyes. It was pathetic, infuriating. And it was really getting to him.

His mood had soured more than usual, his patience even thinner than before – he actually made a couple shinnies cry at one point. The others noticed. Thorn, Thire, Stone, even Hound – they all tried to figure out what had happened, their worry for their vod growing.

But Fox was Fox. The more they tried to reach out to him, the more he pulled away. Especially from Thorn, who knew about that night. Knew about you. Knew what to imply with his questions.

His vod tried, but Fox refused to speak about it. Every time Thorn approached him, he would find something that needed his attention, some place he needed to be. He didn’t want to talk about it. Didn’t want to name it. Because once he did, it became real – and real things could be lost.

You asked Cody for his frequency. You had the means to contact him. So why didn’t you? Why even ask for it if you weren’t going to use it? You must’ve wanted to send a message – Fox was sure of it. Was it a rejection? Was that why you hadn’t commed yet –were you going to reject him, tell him that it couldn’t happen again, but you didn’t know how? Were you going to tell him it had meant nothing to you, or worse, that you did regret it?

All these questions swarming in his mind – it was driving him crazy.

You were driving him crazy.

So when he learned that the 212th was returning to Coruscant, Fox decided he needed to see you.

So now he’s here, stiffly stood at parade rest in the hangar of the main Base, as if he’s preparing for a thorough inspection.

Ideally, he wants to talk to you – but he knows he shouldn’t. Because what he really wants is to ask if you’d thought about him, if that night had meant anything to you. He wants to ask why you haven’t commed.

He wants… he just wants to be in your warm presence again, hear the melody of your voice – even if only for a moment.

It’s embarrassing, really, how much of an effect you had on him.

Fox steps to the side to let the medics pass, eyes briefly scanning the injured troopers laid out on hover-stretchers. The first transports are always filled with the wounded – those being moved from field medbays to proper infirmaries, or even to the GMF if the damage is bad enough. He’s actually relieved you weren’t on any of them…

He counts the LAATs that have already landed. He’s read the casualty reports – he knows how many transports should be allocated for the injured.

Then come the officers.

If he estimated correctly, you should be on the next one.

He squares his shoulders and takes a deep breath, the exhale filtering loudly through the voice modulator of his helmet. The transport is approaching. His left hand balls into a fist before he flexes his fingers a couple of times, trying to shake the nerves.

He shouldn’t be this nervous – it makes no sense. He’s never nervous. Not when chasing dangerous criminals through the lower levels. Not when dealing with temperamental, vindictive senators who throw a fit if they don’t get their way. He’s always calm, collected, in control.

Hell, he wasn’t even this nervous that night. He was the one in control – you allowed him to be. Sure, he was also emboldened by the vapours of alcohol, but there’d also been something about you – an openness that encouraged him to let his guard down, to flirt and tease. To be himself. Not a clone. Not a commander. Just–

“Fox?”

The voice almost makes him flinch.

Fox turns, seeing blue-painted plastoid approaching from behind him. His eyes then lift from the tally marks scratched into the vambrace to the bleached buzzcut of his little brother.

“Rex,” he greets with a nod.

Rex’s face lights up. “Didn’t think you ever left the Senate,” he says, clearly pleased to see his ori’vod. “What brings you all the way out here?”

“Saw the transports coming in, figured I’d catch Cody,” Fox replies casually. “Haven’t seen him in a while.”

Rex pauses, giving Fox a quick once-over. “You alright?”

“Still breathing,” Fox says, then hurries to change the subject. “I didn’t know you were on-world.”

“Special assignment with Skywalker,” Rex answers. “Redeploying tomorrow. It’s why I’m here actually. Was gonna ask Cody to join me at the 79s tonight.”

The hiss of the repulsorlifts draw Fox’s attention and he glances over in time to see the doors of the LAAT swish open. He swears his heart stops for a moment.

But the first to jump off is Cody.

Fox can pinpoint the exact moment his vod spots him. Cody’s walking beside his general, gaze scanning lazily across the hangar – until he freezes mid-step. His helmet snaps toward where Fox and Rex stand. And he just stares.

This isn’t ideal…

Fox hoped he’d manage to get your attention while somehow avoiding him.

Cody, who will immediately see through his lie and know the true reason he’s there.

Cody, who thinks of you as a little sister and is fiercely protective of you.

Cody, who he’d never seen furious – properly furious – until that night outside his office.

Their last interaction had been that comm exchange two weeks ago. It didn’t exactly end on a friendly note.

“– so you’re coming, yeah?” Rex’s voice cuts in, clapping a hand to Fox’s shoulder.

“What?” Fox blinks, only now tuning back in.

“To the 79s,” Rex grins. “You’re coming with us.”

“Uhm… sure,” Fox mumbles, his gaze already moving back to the 212th’s Commander.

Cody is marching towards them, his helmet now off, eyeing Fox with a mixture of confusion and suspicion. Fox straightens instinctively, his posture going rigid.

The uproar of the chaotic hangar fills the gunship as soon as the doors open, momentarily drowning out the noise of your anxious mind. You’re among the last to disembark the transport, hovering around Waxer despite his protests that you have no reason to fuss over him. But you need something – anything – to keep your mind busy. To keep your mind from thinking of–

Him.

Hard plastoid hits your chest as you walk straight into Boil’s back, knocking the wind out of you for a second.

“Sorry,” you mutter under your breath. You bring your hand up to the left side of your sternum and rub what will undoubtedly become a new bruise – as if you didn’t already have enough after the siege.

“You alright, vod’ika?” Boil asks.

But you don’t even register his question. Your eyes lock on a figure you didn’t expect to see here.

Commander Fox – talking to Rex and Cody.

His scarlet armor is glistening in the iridescent light of the hangar and he is standing tall, hands clasped behind his back and shoulders squared. He looks just as imposing and maddeningly confident as you remember. As if nothing happened…

“I wonder what he’s doing here.” Waxer unknowingly voices the question buzzing in your mind.

Well… one of the questions anyway.

“Eh, can’t be anything bad” Boil comments. “No other Corries in sight.”

Their conversation doesn’t quite reach you – it’s like you’re listening to it from underwater. Plus, the sound of your heart thudding loudly in your ears seems to muffle all noise of the busy hangar.

You don’t know what to do.

Should you go over there and say hello? Risk embarrassing yourself – blurting out something idiotic, or worse, admitting you’ve been thinking about him nonstop for six weeks?

Or should you bolt?

He hasn’t seen you yet. You could make a run for it and catch up to Obi-Wan who’s heading toward the shuttle that'll take him back to the Temple. But he’s just given you permission to stay behind after you said you wished to remain with the men a little longer. If you suddenly change your mind he might figure out that something’s wrong.

No… the risk is too high – you don’t trust yourself to properly mask your emotions right now.

Maybe if you stick close to Waxer and Boil until you’re and out of the hanger… then head straight for the infirmary. There’s bound to be more than enough for you to do there. Help the medics. Focus on the walking wounded. Take the minor cases and lose yourself in the work.

Long enough for a certain Commander to return to the Senate where he belongs.

But you don’t get to make a decision.

You glance back toward the three men–

And your stomach lurches.

A shiver jolts through your body. He’s seen you. Fox is looking straight at you.

You’re sure of it. Even through the dark visor of his helmet, you can feel it. Your eyes meet – you know they do.

For a few moments you don’t move. You can’t – it’s as if you're frozen in carbonite.

Then, after what feels like an unreasonably long time of just staring, your brain kicks back into gear and you realise how ridiculous you must look. And how ridiculous this whole situation is. You are a Jedi – a damn good one too – and here you are, freezing like an Alderaanian deer in the headlights at the sight of a man you slept with once. Get it together. You’re supposed to be better than this.

Unfortunately for you, the others can see that something is wrong.

"Are you okay?" Waxer asks. "You look a little out of it."

"Uhh... fine," you manage to croak. You swallow hard, then start walking without another word.

Every step you take feels heavy, like wading through water. Your hesitance is impossible to hide. He's not making it easy either. The only sign of tension is the slight stiffening in his shoulders – barely noticeable, but you catch it. Though you don’t know what it means. He still stands tall, still looks unbothered. Calm. Collected. It makes your stomach twist.

Because a small part of you – a tiny, treacherous part – hopes that maybe, somehow, he’s here for you.

And that scares you. You’re worried that if you let that seed of hope take root in your heart, it’ll just be crushed. You can feel the heartache before it even takes place. Maker, you wish you’d bolted when you had the chance.

Captain Rex notices you approach, and warmly says your name.

“Captain,” you reply with a slight curl of your lips.

It’s a rehearsed smile – the kind that doesn’t quite reach your eyes – but it’s the best you can manage right now. Too bad Cody knows you so well – you really wish he didn’t look at you with such blatant concern written all over his face.

“How’d the siege go after we left?” Rex asks, glancing between you and Cody.

“Believe it or not, we can actually handle a few of droids without the 501st,” you sigh, rolling your eyes with theatrical flair. “Careful, Rex – it sounds like you’re letting Anakin’s overconfidence get to your head.”

“Never,” the Captain chuckles.

Next to him, Fox shifts his weight from one foot to the other. The slight movement catches your attention, and without your permission, your eyes glance his way again.

“Do you know Commander Fox?” Rex asks. “He’s–”

“We’ve met,” Fox cuts in.

His voice hits you like a physical blow. It’s not cold. It’s not bitter. Just… impersonal, completely devoid of any emotion. No wonder some troopers joke that the Corrie Guard Commander is secretly a droid – he might as well be, speaking and standing so damn rigidly.

Actually…

You look at him – really look at him. He’s too rigid. His voice is too emotionless. Not at all how you remember him from that night. He’s… different. Apprehensive. Maybe even anxious?

That little seed of hope stirs again in your heart.

“Yes,” you confirm. “We met at the fundraising gala.”

Your voice is lighter now, and the small smile you offer is more genuine. Maybe you’re reading too much into it – analysing the smallest movements – but it seems to have an immediate effect on him. Some of the tension leaves his shoulders and there’s a slight tilt of his helmet your way. Like he’s waiting. Like he’s hoping you’ll say more. Acknowledge that night in some way. You need to think of something quickly.

“The Commander actually saved my shebs,” you blurt out. Heat rushes to your cheeks as both Cody and Rex turn their heads to look at you. Maker, why did you open your mouth? “The Senator of my home planet he… uhh – there were these-these journalists taking photos – and, uhm, anyway I could’ve been in trouble.” You wince. “Still think that was abuse of power though,” the conclusion is accompanied by an awkward laugh.

Your eyes drop to the floor and you bite your lip, cursing your heart for racing and your mouth for spewing out incoherent nonsense. And yet, it worked.

“Brenko lost the election,” Fox says, voice steadier. “The new Senator actually seems decent.”

You glance back into the black of his visor, hoping that your eyes meet – it feels that way anyway. That sounded… more like him.

“Good. I couldn’t stand that fucker,” you chuckle.

A quiet, amused huff crackles out through his voice modulator. He laughed – sort of.

And just like that, that seed of hope is a flower in bloom.

“You were planning his murder if I remember correctly,” Fox says, the edge in his voice softening into something almost cordial – maybe even a little teasing. “Bold of you to admit that to the commander of the Guard.”

Definitely teasing.

“I said I was considering it, not actively planning,” you shoot back, slipping easily into the banter. “Don’t twist my words, Commander. That won’t stand in court.”

Another small huff escapes his lips and you can’t help the bright smile that lights up your face. Fox seems more at ease now – the tension in his shoulders has melted away and he finally releases his hands from behind his back.

“I could probably fabricate some evidence,” Fox continues, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’ve already established I’m not above abuse of power.”

“I knew the Coruscant Guard was corrupted,” you exclaim dramatically.

Next to him, Rex frowns slightly, shooting Fox a quick, confused look. He’s not actually… flirting, is he? The confusion deepens when he glances at Cody – who is glaring at Fox. His jaw is clenched, and the helmet is gripped so tightly, his knuckles must be white under the glove. So Rex isn’t imagining it. Cody sees it too – and he’s clearly not thrilled.

Rex takes half a step back – he’d rather not be standing between the two commanders right now. But the movement startles both you and Fox, breaking the spell. You glance around the hangar, then at Rex, whose eyes flick between his brothers, suspicion written plainly across his face.

You feel it now – the ripple in the Force coming from Cody. Not as furious as that night outside Fox’s office, but still… very much not happy. You swallow hard and risk a glance. Just as you expected, an annoyed grimace darkens his face.

Fox sees it too, and his posture instantly goes back to rigid.

The uncomfortable silence that settles over the four of you is deafening, and as much as you’d like to talk to him for longer, you need to escape the tense atmosphere. You cannot deal with Cody right now, and you can basically see the wheels turning inside Rex’s head – he’ll figure it out if you don’t dissipate the tension soon.

“I uhh…” you start quietly, pausing to clear your throat. “I should head back to the Temple.”

Fox’s helmet dips toward you, then shifts ever so slightly to Cody. His left fist clenches and unclenches by his side a couple of times as he quickly runs a few scenarios through his mind. It can’t end well – he knows it – but he still wants to do it. He wants to be close to you just a little longer.

“I can give you a ride,” Fox offers. “I’ll drop you off before I head back to the Senate.”

Cody inches closer to you, in an unspoken plea for you to decline. But nothing he could do or say right now could stop you. Not when your heart is racing with anticipation and butterflies are fluttering in your stomach. All at the prospect of spending more time with him. Alone.

“Thank you, Commander. That’s… really kind of you,” you reply with a small smile.

Fox stands a bit taller. A warm flicker of pride swells in his chest every time you smile because of him. His eyes linger on you just a moment longer before he turns his head toward his brothers.

“Rex. Cody,” he nods at them before he starts walking.

“Bye guys,” you say as you move to follow. But your steps falter as you make eye contact with your ori’vod. “See you later, Cody?” you add timidly.

Cody exhales hard, shaking his head with a loud, disappointed sigh. “See you later, vod’ika.”

You mouth a silent “sorry” before jogging to catch up with Fox.

Rex’s watches the two of you disappear out of the hangar. “What… was that?”

“Don’t ask,” Cody replies flatly.

The BARC speeder wasn’t designed for two people, so you feel a little cramped sat behind Fox. At first, you try to give him space, gripping the seat's edges instead of him as the two of you leave the military compound, but Fox is having none of that. He lifts the bike up and accelerates sharply, then veers into a higher traffic lane, swerving around a transport like he’s in a podrace. A tiny squeal involuntarily leaves your lips, but you still don’t do what he wants.

“You’ll fall. Hold on to me,” Fox orders over his shoulder.

You don’t immediately comply, so Fox switches traffic lanes even more abruptly. This time, your arms fly around his waist, anchoring you tightly to him so you won’t slip. You hear him make a satisfied grunt and the bike significantly slows.

“Were you flying like a lunatic on purpose just to get me to do that?” you exclaim.

“You were being stubborn,” he deadpans.

“You… you are such an asshole,” you mumble.

A low chuckle comes through the voice modulator. “We’ve already established that, cyar’ika.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks at the Mando’a pet name – you’d forgotten how much you liked it when he called you that. Thank the Maker he can’t see your face; it’s probably the same shade as the paint on his armor.

You tighten your grip around his torso and lean forward, pressing yourself against his back and resting your chin lightly on his shoulder. You look around; Coruscant doesn’t look so bad from up here.

The durasteel buildings gleam under the harsh midday light and the colourful speeders flying around in all directions paint a chaotic picture of life. You close your eyes, enjoying the feel of the cool wind on your heated face. Then you breathe in. Underneath the smell of fuel that is ever-present in the busy traffic of the city, you can make out the clean, familiar scent of GAR-issued soap… with just a hint of bitter caf. His scent.

Fox hears your content sigh and turns his head slightly – but the sunvisor of his helmet makes it impossible to catch even a glimpse of your face. However, he can see ahead, and in the distance, the Jedi Temple already looms, tall and imposing. The end of the line. Another goodbye with no promise of tomorrow. No resolve, no clarity… no reassurances.

You see the Temple too. He can tell by the way you straighten, then let out a deep, defeated breath. You nuzzle into the crook of his neck, like you're trying to get as physically close to him as possible. The hard plastoid must be digging into your skin, but you don’t seem to care. You just want to savour the fleeting moment for as long as you can.

He should be content. This already was more than he’d expected. He didn’t think he’d even get to talk to you, let alone have you so closely pressed against him. This is more than he could’ve hoped for.

But it’s not enough.

A few soft words policed by his brothers’ presence are not enough.

Your arms around him for half the duration of an already short speeder ride are simply not enough.

Fox needs more. He wants more.

And Maker help him – he hopes he’s right to think that you do too.

He veers sharply.

The sudden change of course startles you, and you look up as the speeder bike starts to descend. The Temple fades from view, swallowed by the skyline as the tall buildings rise around you. You’re getting closer and closer to the surface. You can’t pretend you’re not relieved.

“Are you kidnapping me, Commander?” you ask sweetly.

“Yes.”

You chuckle at his curt response, soft and amused, then rest your chin back on his shoulder. You have no idea where he’s taking you and, truthfully, you don’t really care.

Fox steers the speeder deeper into the planet. Sunlight fades, giving way to neon lights and flickering holograms as you enter the lower reaches of the Uscru District. But Fox doesn’t stop. You ride past glowing shopfronts and loud clubs, catching fragments of cheers and bursts of laughter. The nightlife of Coruscant is always awake this deep within the planet.

But he keeps diving lower. The light dims, the streets thin out, and the architecture grows more industrial. You’re somewhere in the mid-levels now – right on the border of what most would consider the lower levels. It’s not a place you’ve ever been before. The streets are rougher, more dilapidated – the kind you wouldn’t walk alone, even as a Jedi. But you’re not scared. You feel completely safe.

Because you’re with him.

The speeder glides to a stop on a narrow street in front of what looks like a warehouse. Fox dismounts and offers his hand to help you up. You accept, timidly curling your fingers around his. There’s no fireworks at the touch – just warmth and grounding steadiness. The kind that melt your insecurities away and encourages you to be at ease in his presence.

He doesn't let go once your feet are on the ground. Instead, he keeps your hand in his, tracing the back of your palm with his thumb. You take a breath in and step closer, looking up into the dark visor of his helmet. You wish he would take it off already.

Fox gently squeezes your hand, then let's go, his gloved fingers settling on the small of your back, applying tender pressure.

“This way.”

“You know, regular people go to a caf shop on their first date, not to dodgy industrial areas in the lower-levels,” you say half-teasingly.

Fox freezes for a second – is this a date?

He clears his throat. “We’re in the mid-levels. And uh… I’m not a regular person.”

You glance down at the floor and bite the inside of your cheek to temper your grin. He didn’t argue with the ‘first date’ part.

Fox guides you to the entrance of the warehouse, pulling his hand away from your back in order to pry open the control panel and start messing with the wires.

You chuckle at the sight. “Are we allowed to be here?”

“Abuse of power, remember?” he shoots back. You let out a soft laugh that makes his chest tingle.

The door half-opens with a mechanical hiss, just wide enough for a person to slide past. You glance at it, then at Fox, who gestures for you to step inside.

The lights begin to turn on one by one once you’re past the threshold and activate the motion sensor. You take a couple steps in–

Then you stop, eyes wide.

The room is large; you count at least two dozen support pillars lined in two parallel rows. But the size is not what captures your attention.

There’s grass on the ground. Actual grass – wild and unkept. The ceiling panels show images of blue skies and clouds – scattered with dark patches of faulty screens that keep glitching. There are large planters with purple-leaf bushes and even a couple of trees – you recognise the species as one native to Chandrila, although they’ve definitely seen better days. In the centre there’s a shallow dip in the floor – you can only assume it’s meant to hold a pond.

You’re speechless. You did not expect to encounter a corner of nature this deep in the heart of Coruscant.

“It was supposed to be a community garden,” Fox answers your unspoken question, coming to stand by your side. “There was an issue; something about permits, funding – whatever. Got tied up in red tape, so it’s been sitting like this ever since.”

“It’s beautiful,” you breathe.

“I thought you’d like it,” Fox quietly mutters.

The small comment wasn’t meant to reach your ears – but it does. You look up at him and find his helmet tilted your way. He’s clearly startled that you caught him. Fox clears his throat and abruptly looks away, then with a couple hurried strides he’s by the side of one of the duracrete pillars.

“There used to be bird songs too,” he says, pointing to the speakers mounted at the top of each pillar. “The sound system broke a while ago.”

“So you’ve been coming here for a while then?” you ask, slowly walking until you’re leaning against the pillar, facing him.

“Yeah,” Fox admits with a long sigh. “It’s a good place to clear your head.”

“And you come here a lot? As in…” you continue sweetly, “if I wanted to accidently run into you, would this be a good place you try?”

Fox turns to face you better, crossing his arms over his chest. “If you want to run into me cyar’ika, you could just use that frequency you asked Cody for and comm me.”

You straighten from the pillar, feeling your stomach drop and chest fill with embarrassed panic. “Y-You know about that?”

“I do.”

The garden suddenly feels too hot. You stare into the dark visor and swallow hard, even though your throat feels as dry as Tatooine.

“Oh…”

Your gaze drops, idly fixating on your boots. Silence settles around you, broken only by the low hum of the overhead lights and Fox’s breathing, filtered out through the voice modulator. But then – a hiss cuts through the air. You lift your eyes and watch as Fox finally pulls his helmet off.

He looks just as gorgeous as you remember – and just as tired. The bags under his eyes are still there – an ever-present part of him – but now there’s also a thin layer of stubble all across his jaw. His silver-streaked hair seems a bit longer as well. His duties must’ve kept him busier lately.

And, Maker, those whiskey-coloured eyes… your knees feel weak just at their sight. You could easily get lost in their amber hue. But the way he’s looking at you? It takes your breath away. There’s a longing in his gaze, a quiet hunger. And underneath all that, a softness you hope he holds just for you.

The corners of his lips lift into a small smirk and Fox cocks his head to the side. “You’re staring.”

“Maybe I missed your face,” you say in a kittenish voice.

“You've been surrounded by my face,” he snorts.

“No” – you shake your head – “not by yours.”

Fox studies your expression, his eyes lingering on your lips for a brief moment. Then he inches closer, voice dropping low as he utters the question that’s been tormenting him for weeks. “Then why didn’t you comm?”

The question is not accusatory. It’s not angry or disdainful. It’s raw, vulnerable – more vulnerable than Fox ever allows himself to be with anyone else. There’s a gentleness in his voice that stirs something in your chest.

“I…” you start, words eluding you at first, “I was worried you didn’t really want me to.”

Fox reaches his left hand and tenderly cradles your cheek. “I did, mesh’la.”

And then his lips are on yours.

It takes a second for your brain to catch up with what’s going on, and by then, your hands are already grasping his chestplate, fingers hooked at the base of his neck. Fox moves his lips against yours in a slow, deliberate pace, taking the time to reacquaint himself with your sweet taste. Your eyes flutter closed, melting at the way his thumb delicately strokes your cheek.

You shift a hand, lazily sliding it around his neck, until your fingers tangle in the hair at the base of his skull. It’s soft – softer than you remembered – and just long enough now to start curling at the tips. Maker, you’ve missed him; and from the way he’s kissing you, it seems like he’s missed you too.

When you tentatively slip your tongue past the seam of his lips, something in Fox snaps.

There’s a faint thud as his helmet slips from his grasp, landing in the grass by his feet – but he pays it no mind. His right hand comes to tightly grip your hip, pulling you flush against him, as his body presses you firmly into the pillar. The hand that was cradling your cheek slams against the duracrete just above your head, caging you in.

The kiss deepens, turns hungrier. His tongue enters your mouth, sliding around yours in a desperate dance of needy intimacy. It’s so soft, and there's that taste of caf again, dark and earthy. Him. Oh how you missed the taste of him.

You match the frantic movements, your heart racing in your chest. It feels so good that you can’t stop the whimper that sounds from the back of your throat.

Fox breaks the kiss and pulls back, taking a moment to admire your heated cheeks and slightly swollen lips. A self-satisfied smile tugs at the corners of mouth.

“Am I moving too fast?” The question is half-genuine, half-laced with teasing.

“N-No,” you answer. You’re breathless, panting for air, but Maker, you do not want to stop.

“Good.” Fox leans back in. “Normally I’d be more patient,” – he moves his lips along your jaw, then start trailing down your neck – “but you made me wait, cyar’ika,” he murmurs into your skin. “I don’t like waiting.”

You gasp when you feel his teeth sink into the base of your neck. Fox chuckles, a low and dangerous sound that travels straight to your core, causing tingles of anticipation to shoot through your body.

Then his hands move, quickly travelling to your chest and sliding your overtunic aside as much as possible. His mouth returns to yours as his left hand cups your breast through the fabric of the undertunic. But his right hand trails lower and lower.

“We're technically in public,” you break the kiss to whisper against his lips, as if anyone could hear you in this desolate garden.

“We are.” His hand doesn’t stop, and it finally reaches the waistband of your trousers, fingers toying with the button. “If you want me to stop just say so.”

Your ragged breathing is the only sound you hear as you meet his gaze. His pupils are blown with lust and desire – and you know yours must be too. You want everything he has to give, and you want to give him everything you have in return.

“I... I don't. Don't stop, Fox. Never stop,” you pretty much whine.

“That's what I thought,” he leans in to rasp in your ear.

Fox unbuttons your trousers and slips his hand between your thighs. His fingers graze over the fabric of your underwear, moving back and forth in a slow, maddening pace. Your breath catches lightly every time they slide over your clit and without thinking, you start grinding into his hand, trying to build up that delicious pressure. His eyes are studying every shift in your facial expression, every crease of your brows and parting of your lips. But just as you think he’s about to slip his fingers underneath the thin fabric – he abruptly pulls his hand away.

“No! Why–” you start, your eyes snapping to meet his.

But you don’t finish your complaint.

Fox lifts his hand to his mouth, gaze locked on yours, and pulls off his glove with his teeth. The motion is fluid, controlled – intimate in a way that punches the air from your lungs. You swear your brain short-circuits. That was the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

You gasp when he swiftly returns it to your core, this time slipping it underneath all layers of fabric. His fingers glide through your folds, gathering your arousal before gently circling your clit. He repeats the motion, slowly dragging his fingers from your apex all the way to the edge of your entrance and back, but every time he reaches your sweet spot, his touch turns so featherlike, you can barely feel it.

Fox crashes his lips back into yours to keep you from objecting to his teasing. The kiss is deep and hungry, but you can feel the way he’s smirking against your lips. He’s very much enjoying the small vexed whimpers you’re making and the way you try to grind down on his hand. His codpiece feels uncomfortably tight, but he is determined to see you fall apart on his fingers before he does anything else.

“Fox…” you whine, breaking the kiss. “Please.”

“Please what, mesh’la?” he asks.

“Please stop teasing.”

“You want me to stop teasing?” he repeats between the kisses he’s planting along your jaw.

You respond with a nod, unable to form any words as you feel his fingers glide closer to your entrance. He pulls back to look at you, eyes darkening.

“I’ll stop teasing.”

And with that he pushes two fingers inside.

Your sharp gasp turns into a moan as Fox sets a rapid pace. His fingers pump in and out, curling just right along your walls. You can’t help the way your nails dig into the back of his neck, while your other hand is still holding on for dear life to the rim of his cuirass. His lips frantically return to yours, kissing you with a speed that matches the motion of his fingers. Then he trails his mouth lower, licking and nipping at the column of your neck. Your head falls back against the duracrete of the pillar, eyes fluttering closed.

“Don’t stop,” you beg.

The pressure is building, Fox can feel your muscles tense, clenching his fingers tightly. He keeps up the speed and brings his thumb to brush against your clit. Your eyes snap open, meeting his burning gaze. The determined look alone is almost enough to make you come. He’s not just trying to pleasure you. He wants to ruin you in the best possible way. To remind you exactly how good he can make you feel.

With just a few more thrusts of his fingers, Fox gets his wish. You squeeze your eyes shut as the pressure releases, and cry out his name. Pleasure spreads like electricity all over your body, surging through your veins in warm, rapid pulses. Fox doesn’t slow the relentless drag of his fingers until he feels your walls relax.

You’re panting heavily and your knees feel weak, like they might melt away at any second. But before you can even catch your breath, the world spins – and you find your front pressed against the cold duracrete pillar. Fox is right behind you, his body molding to yours, the hard edges of his plastoid armor biting into your back. Not that you mind – the pain quickly reignites the desire in your core.

His hands roam your sides, greedy and unrelenting, before one of them slides up to grope your breast. His mouth returns to your neck, the kisses now desperate. You can feel how worked up he is by the intensity of his movements. A hiss escapes your lips as he gets carried away and sucks on your neck a little too hard.

“Sorry,” he whispers, soothing the sting with the slow drag of his tongue.

“I don’t mind,” you breathe. “But I wouldn’t make them too visible if I were you. You’re the one in trouble if Cody sees them.”

Fox grunts. “Let’s not bring him up right now.”

Your giggle is cut short by Fox suddenly yanking your trousers and underwear down in one fluid motion, exposing your bare ass to the chilly air. There’s another small thud as something hits the ground, but before you can identify the sound, his hard length presses against your inner thigh. You arch back, encouraging him to slide through your folds and coat himself with your arousal.

“Kriff,” he mutters under his breath, hands tightly gripping your hips.

The tip of his cock catches at your entrance and your entire body tingles with anticipation. Then, without waiting any longer, he sinks in, accompanied by an incoherent Mando’a curse falling from his lips. You press your forehead to the cool duracrete as you adjust to the sting of the stretch, taking a couple of breaths. Fox pauses, buried to the hilt inside of you.

“Are you ready for me to move?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you nod. “Just start slow please.”

Fox leans in and plants a gentle kiss on your cheekbone. “Alright, mesh’la.”

He begins to move, rolling his hips slowly and listening to every small whimper that leaves your lips. The painful sting soon gives way to pleasure and you start pushing back to meet his thrusts, letting him know he can move faster. Fox groans and buries his face in your hair, inhaling deeply. He can’t tell whether it’s perfume or shampoo, but whatever it is, it’s intoxicating – and his new favourite scent. His grip on your hips turns vice-like.

You reach your arm back, curling it around his neck, and you tilt your head against his shoulder in a silent invitation. Fox immediately complies, crashing his lips to yours in a messy, uncoordinated kiss. His hips pick up speed, and his armored chest slams against your back with every unforgiving thrust, knocking the air out of your lungs. You almost laugh – he’s quite literally taking your breath away. You squirm, trying to make room for your ribs to expand, and he notices. Shifting slightly off you, he braces one forearm against the pillar and leans to the side. The new angle is exquisite for the both of you.

“You feel so good,” Fox mumbles in your ear. “So… so tight. So good.”

You moan his name as a response, your vision starting to blur around the edges. The tip of his cock is hitting that spot inside of you perfectly and you can already feel your second orgasm approaching. He is not too far behind. More incoherent mumbles fall from his lips as Fox gets lost in chasing his pleasure. At one point you think he says “ner mesh’la Jetti,” and your heart skips a beat.

You probably misheard. But the thought alone? The thought of being his? It’s enough to push you over the edge.

Your fingers tangle into his hair, pulling firmly at the strands, and you arch back into him. He groans, but you can barely hear it over the loud moans that leave your lips as the climax ripples through you. Fox keeps the rhythm steady as you ride out your high, not changing a thing until he feels you melt into his grasp. Then his hips pick up speed, the thrusts turning harsh, unforgiving, frantic, as his low grunts fill the air around you. He slams into you a couple more times before going rigid, his cock the only thing still twitching inside your walls, filling you with his warm release.

His head falls on your shoulder and his ragged breath feels hot on your skin. The hand on your hip wraps around you, holding you tightly against him. You bring your own to his, interlacing your fingers together as you simply stay there and breathe. The moment stretches on in comfortable silence and you savour every second of it. His armor is still digging into your skin – there will definitely be some bruises tomorrow – but you can’t bring yourself to break the spell. Not when his other arm wraps around your chest. Not when he’s holding onto you like you’re a rare sunny day, shining after weeks of cold, unrelenting rain. Not when you can feel how much he needs the closeness – how much he needs you.

But your body betrays you – the chilly air of the abandoned garden makes you shiver. Fox notices immediately and slowly slides out of you, tucks himself back in with two quick motions, then helps pull your trousers up.

“Thanks,” you say as you turn to face him.

The sight that greets you is one you want to carve into your brain. There’s a soft smile frozen on his lips and his eyes are bright, pupils still a little blown. A thin layer of sweat glistens on his forehead and the hair you ruffled during the act looks wild and messy. But the most striking thing is that he looks so young, so relaxed. It won’t last long – you both know it – but just for a moment the two of you and this garden are the only real thigs in the galaxy.

You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of seeing him like this.

Without thinking, you reach your hand to smooth down his hair. Fox closes his eyes, a small hum slipping from him on the next exhale. It’s such a small, natural gesture, yet it fills his chest with a warmth he’s almost afraid to name. He opens his eyes and finds you watching him, your gaze soft in a way that stirs something deep inside. But there’s something else behind your eyes – something he can’t decipher.

“You okay?” he asks gently.

“Better than okay,” you chuckle. “That was amazing. Ten out of ten.”

“Maker,” Fox groans. “That joke was terrible then, and it’s still terrible now.”

“Too bad,” you grin, a little smug. “I’ll make it after every time.”

His brain short-circuits for a second. Every time. That implies a next time. A next time he’ll get to have you in his arms, to hear you moan his name. ‘Every time’ implies a future he’s never allowed himself to dream of. But now? Now that it’s standing in front of him, wearing your smile, he wants it more than anything.

He recovers fast, and arches a brow as he steps closer.

“Every time? So we’re doing this again?” he teases.

Heat rushes to your cheeks. “W-Well, I do-I’d like to” you stammer. “If you want to of course, I can’t demand-I-I’m not assuming you want to because it-it is against the rules and–”

Fox silences you with a kiss. Searing, but slow. Passionate, but careful. His tongue moves around yours in measured, deliberate motions, fully demanding your attention. It tastes dangerously close to a promise.

When he pulls away, you feel weightless, and can’t stop the bright smile that spreads across your face.

He plants another small kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Come on. I need to actually deliver you to the Temple before they send out a search party.”

You roll your eyes, trying not to show your disappointment. You knew you couldn’t stay here forever – but that doesn’t mean leaving won’t sting.

Fox reattaches the codpiece and picks his helmet up, then frowns as he looks around.

“Where the hell is that glove?” he mutters.

You both look around the pillar, but it’s like it vanished into thin air. After a few minutes of sifting through the tall grass, Fox gives up with a resigned sigh – he’ll just get a new one – and the two of you leave the garden behind.

The ride back flies by in comfortable silence. You hold onto him tightly, smiling the entire time. He doesn’t go to the hangar; instead, Fox pull up on a street close to the Temple entrance, but just out of sight from any Jedi that might walk past.

“Thank you, Commander,” you purr, sliding off the speeder. “It was so kind of you to give me a ride.”

You can’t see his face under the helmet but you can just about imagine his unamused expression – and the slight shake of his head confirms it.

But before you can leave, he catches your wrist.

“Don’t make me kidnap you again,” he says, his voice a low growl.

“You say that like it wasn’t the best kidnapping I’ve ever had,” you laugh.

“I mean it, mesh’la,” Fox continues. “Actually comm me this time. I… I want to see you again.”

There’s a slight anxious edge to his voice, one that immediately sends butterflies to your stomach. He wants to see you again. Whatever this is blooming between the two of you, he feels it too, you’re certain now. You gaze into his visor, briefly wondering if he can feel the racing pulse in your wrist.

“I will. I promise.”

His hand lingers a little longer, thumb gently stroking your skin.

“Good.” He lets go.

Then he’s off, revving the engine of the speeder twice before disappearing into the Coruscant traffic.

You walk away, still feeling the warmth of his fingers on your skin. You’re already planning the comm you’ll send tomorrow.

A/n: if anyone is wondering what happened to the glove, a rat took it. Give me a shout and i'll write the rat's pov too

Taglist: @selene131 ; @lilooos-stuff (hope you don't mind the random tag, but it was your comment from a few weeks ago that motivated me to actually start writing, so thnx)

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