The First Fall of Snow
emperor!zayne x concubine!reader - read part 2!
summary: the emperor isn't interested in his concubines, but an encounter with you is enough to change his mind.
cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, p in v, oral sex, praise kink, breast play, masturbation, thigh riding, mentions of exhibitionism, virginity loss
wc: 7.7k
a/n: i did imagine long-haired zayne for this (like his master of fate card!) and he just gives off emperor vibes soooo
also on ao3!
The Emperor was a peculiar man.
He was not a man who fancied company. When the years for marriage had passed, his royal advisors had grown increasingly anxious. All potential candidates were refused, princesses from far lands given profuse apologies and lavish gifts in hopes of quelling their anger after they had traveled such vast distances, only for the Emperor to turn them away.
In an effort to try and draw out the Emperor’s romantic and sexual nature, several concubines were gathered. The Emperor had never overseen this, the affair carried out in veiled whispers as his advisors had sought to dispel their desperation by pooling their efforts into securing an heir for the dynasty.
That was what you were told when you arrived in the palace anyways. It had been a year since you were hand-picked as a concubine, along with a few other girls who had been eager to accept when the opportunity had been provided to them.
You had only met the Emperor a handful of times, when you first been brought to the palace and during private meetings that had been scheduled. He had never touched you or any of the other girls, had never sought after pleasure or secured an heir, much to the chagrin of Imperial staff. Like any other person, you thought it was odd.
Part of you felt as though you were wasting away in this palace, days spent outside by the pretty gardens and overlooking the fish in the ponds, entertaining stray cats or inside, like you were now.
You stare down at the steaming water in the teapot, watching as the tea leaves stain the water. The blurry reflection of your face looks back up at you and there’s a soft sigh escaping you, wondering what might’ve been if you hadn’t been chosen.
Such thoughts are lost when a short, stout man comes hobbling in. He grabs at your arm, teacup filled with hot tea tipping to the side. You wince when the hot liquid lands against your skin, burning you.
“The Emperor needs tea,” the eunuch hisses, pulling another set of teaware from the shelves as he tugs you closer.
“Why does that involve me?,” you ask, trying to free yourself so you can soothe your irritated skin under cool water.
“You will deliver it to him,” he says, fiddling with your robes and straightening out the fabric to make you look more presentable.
“Have another one of the girls-” you begin to complain, shrinking away when he sends you a glare.
You huff out a breath, making sure the pin in your hair is in place. There’s no time to tend to the burn on your forearm, the reddened skin hidden by the sleeves of your robes as the eunuch passes you the tray.
Sending him a glare of your own, you don’t stay behind to be chastised. Feet padding against the floor, you pass through the courtyard and hallway. Imperial guards stand outside the Emperor’s quarters and you bow your head, stating your business.
One of the guards opens the doors and you suck in a sharp breath, gathering your confidence as you step inside the Emperor’s quarters.
It’s a familiar place. The room is large, scrolls stacked upon shelves tucked against the walls, decorative screens partitioning the entrance to where his bed was placed. You swallow nervously, eyes blinking about.
You can’t seem to find the Emperor. Deciding to step forward, you’re pushing your luck, sticking your head outside the open doors at the other end of his quarters. It opens into a private courtyard, greenery pruned to perfection.
There’s a frown pulling at your lips when you can’t see him. Perhaps he had left? Just as you’re about to give up, a man clears his throat.
You jolt in place, tea sloshing as you struggle to keep a hold on the tray. Whirling around, you find the Emperor standing there, his arms crossed over his chest.
There’s a curse entering your mind, placing the tea tray down on a table nearby before your knees are bending, meeting the floor as you bow in a seated position.
“Please forgive me, your majesty” you breathe out, eyes squeezing shut.
You would rather not feel the wrath of the Emperor.
“I did not ask for tea,” he says bluntly.
“The- the eunuch insisted,” you supply lamely.
The Emperor only sighs and your eyes are peeking open, head tilting slightly as you try to get a glimpse of his expression.
“You may stand,” he murmurs, waving his hand.
You do as he says, stumbling to your feet, teeth gritting together when the cloth of your robes rubs against the still fresh burn on your forearm.
He takes a seat on a cushioned mat and you’re standing awkwardly, trying to taper down your fidgeting as the pain flares up again.
“Is something the matter?” the Emperor asks when he sees your inability to stand still.
You shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek. The Emperor only stares at you, unimpressed. His gaze drags over you and your cheeks are flushing in embarrassment.
“Sit,” he says suddenly, pointing to the space across from him.
“I-” you begin to refuse, restless to get out of this stifling place and tend to the burn that was currently beginning to sting.
“Sit, or will you refuse an Imperial command?”
To refuse an Imperial command is to forfeit one’s life. It’s why you’re sitting down in a flurry and looking everywhere at everything except him.
“Arm,” he murmurs, holding his hand out.
You extend your arm towards his hand without question. He hums when he brushes the sleeves away, moving your arm closer to his eyes so he can examine the burn. The Emperor’s lithe fingers prod at the edges of your reddened skin, and a whimper slips out of you, the tender skin sensitive.
He pulls away from you and your eyes are darting towards the doors, wondering whether it would be worth it to make a break for it. The Emperor returns soon after, a small pot in his hand, containing some sort of salve.
“Your majesty, it is beneath you to tend to such a matter,” you remind him, feeling his cool fingers wrap around your arm again.
“Perhaps so, but I happen to take interest in the ailments of the body,” he replies, spreading the salve against your skin.
So the rumors were true then. Many spoke of the Emperor’s affinity for the study of medicine. You had assumed he would’ve taken more interest in other pursuits such as hunting, but it appeared the Emperor valued intellect above all else.
As the salve soothes your skin, you find your gaze slipping over him. Pale skin, intelligent eyes framed by dark eyelashes, a strong nose and long hair tied back neatly, there was no doubt that the Emperor was a handsome man.
His eyes flick up to meet yours, his own gaze dipping over you once again. You feel as though you’re being scrutinized, so you’re sitting up straighter, trying to not present yourself as a mess.
“He sent you here to entice me,” the Emperor explains, beginning to wrap your wound using a thin, silken cloth.
“Oh. Is- is it working?” you ask tentatively.
“If you consider making a fool of yourself enticing, then maybe so,” he says, the side of his mouth curling up as amusement flashes through his eyes.
There’s a sharp scoff leaving you, arm tugging free from his grasp. The bandages are tight around your arm and you send him a frown, placing your hands in your lap.
“You take liberties that others do not,” he sighs, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I apologize, your majesty,” you whisper, head hanging low. He was right, you were taking liberties.
“Zayne,” he says, opening a scroll.
“Your- your majesty?” you reply, confusion flitting across your face.
“Zayne,” he repeats, not bothering to even spare you a glance “you may address me by my name.”
You hold your tongue in return, eyes narrowing as you stare at the Emperor. It must be a trick of some sort, you think, a ploy to make you slip up, and just like the traitors of the Empire, your head would be severed from your neck.
“You would distrust my own command?” he asks, sensing your hesitation.
“I never said such a thing!” you protest, exasperation spreading across your face.
Sitting in place, you pout to yourself, tracing random shapes onto the cushioned mat. Zayne ignores your presence and it has you fidgeting even more, a huff of air leaving you.
The Emperor only continues to read the scroll in his hands. Pouring out some tea, you decide to indulge yourself. Your face contorts when you taste the now lukewarm liquid. It’s hardly enjoyable. Letting out another deep sigh, your body sags. There’s nothing for you to do here, the Emperor won’t carry a conversation and you only find that you’re making a fool of yourself even more.
“Shall I leave?” you ask him, feeling hopeful that you might be able to escape.
Zayne shakes his head.
“Stay a little while. It would do good for my advisors to think they have succeeded.”
“Succeeded?” you echo, brows furrowing.
“They expect an heir,” he sighs, setting down the scroll to give you his full attention, “surely you are aware of my… aversion to the entire matter.”
“I cannot say I understand,” you murmur, “you need an heir, and an illegitimate heir is an heir nonetheless.”
“The duty will be fulfilled when I am ready,” he says firmly.
Your head tilts at that, eyes narrowing. When he was ready? There would be no reason for the Emperor to not be ready.
“Other noblemen take pleasure in using women’s bodies,” you mutter, peering over at him, “it is strange that you have not yet touched any one of us.”
“You wish for me to use you?” Zayne asks, raising his brows.
“N- no! I just meant, it is odd that an Emperor whose rule has granted him anything he may possibly desire chooses not to engage in anything,” the words come out of you in a rush, your cheeks flushing.
“And have you engaged in anything?” he shoots back, his eyes sharp.
Admitting your own virginity wasn’t on your plan of things to do today. Your cheeks are hot with embarrassment, eyes averted to the side. Your silence is answer enough, and Zayne sighs, his fingers rubbing at his temples.
“I did not ask for concubines,” he says quietly, “and so, I do not expect you to serve me in such a fashion.”
“You may leave,” he says after a few moments, standing up with you.
Your head tilts, teeth worrying into your lower lip as he stares down at you.
“It appears you care for me,” he murmurs, his hand lifting to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.
Your heart flutters at the unexpected action, eyes widening when he touches you.
“Only for the dynasty,” you breathe out.
Zayne lets out a low laugh at that. He gives you a faint smile and your heart stutters in your chest. You don’t think you’ve ever seen a man look so ethereal, but such is the favor of the gods.
It’s probably why you’re leaning forward, hands reaching to fix the crumpled collar of his silk robes. He stiffens under your touch and you pretend as though you don’t notice. Your fingers graze his skin and his hand curls around your wrist, stopping your movements.
“I shall expect you here in a week’s time,” he says.
“A week’s time,” you nod, feeling his fingers touch the cloth wrapped around your burn.
The Emperor lowers his head, his fingers gripping your chin gently so he can stare into your eyes more intently. He seems lost in thought as he swipes his thumb over your chin, his head nearing until you can feel the warmth of his breath on your skin.
It’s almost too much for your racing heart. Your already half-lidded eyes are slipping shut, lips parting as you lean in closer, waiting for him to kiss you. But it never comes and your eyes flutter open to see Zayne staring down at you with a hint of mirth in his eyes. He was making a fool of you yet again.
To preserve whatever dignity you have left, you’re pulling away, freeing yourself from his suffocating grasp. Bowing in deference, you don’t look back to see his expression, pushing past the doors as you leave his quarters.
Almost immediately, you’re met with the eunuch from earlier.
“Well?” he asks, his cheeks puffed with exertion as he tries to keep up with the pace you’ve set in an attempt to escape questioning.
“Nothing happened,” you reply curtly, looking back to see the short man totter after you.
“Nothing?” he repeats, voice laced with irritation, “not even-“ his voice lowers, mindful of the other staff working in the palace, “he did not even touch you?”
You shake your head. He doesn’t need to know that the Emperor had indeed touched you; tended to your burn even, that you were hoping the Emperor would hold you close and kiss you, and he most certainly didn’t need to know about your little displays of insolence.
The eunuch soon loses interest in you, grumbling curses under his breath as you retire to your own chambers shared with the other girls. It’s no secret that many of them have become bored with the Emperor’s apathetic outlook, some turning their charms to try and garner the affections of noblemen at court.
-
It’s raining the day you’re meant to meet the Emperor.
You step inside his chambers when the guards permit you, your hands clasped in front of you.
“Your majesty” you bend at the waist, bowing.
Zayne hums in response, striding closer to you. His fingers lift your arm, undoing the gauze to uncover your injury. The salve he had applied to your skin had soothed the burn, and it had begun to heal nicely.
“I told you to address me by my name,” he reminds you, his brows furrowed in concentration as he examines your skin, “must I remind you again, or will phrasing it as an Imperial command suffice?”
Your mouth opens automatically to retort sharply. He looks at you, brows raised. Spending more time in his presence has only vexed you, irritation making you almost forget who you were with. Mouth clamping shut, you send him a tight-lipped smile.
“Forgive me,” you say begrudgingly, “Zayne.”
“Better,” he murmurs.
You don’t know whether he’s referring to your obedience or the state of your wound.
“It will scar,” Zayne continues, turning your arm so that he can see your skin in better light.
“Badly?” you ask, a frown tugging at your lips.
“More salve will lessen the effect,” he says, finally letting go of your arm.
You release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. The Emperor stares at you, his gaze unwavering. It has you wishing that you hadn’t listened to his request at all. The palace physician would have more than likely provided you with the necessary treatment, and yet here you were, being tended to by the Emperor of all people.
“Do you wish for me to repay you?” the words are out of your mouth before you can stop yourself.
“Did we not already have this conversation?” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“I had assumed-”
“Do not assume anything.”
Zayne’s voice has hardened, the slight softness in his eyes no longer present. You’ve overstepped. He pulls away from you, turning his back to you as he walks towards the open doors of his quarters. Rain wets the inside, the mats on the floor darkening but the Emperor doesn’t seem to care.
Feeling like a scolded child, you trail after him.
“Forgive me,” you whisper, keeping your gaze trained on the floor.
It seems to be all that you’re doing now. Apology after apology after apology. It’s a miracle you haven’t yet been executed for your impertinence.
He turns to face you, his hand lifting. For a moment you think he’s about to slap you, a grimace settling on your face as you await the stinging punishment. Instead, all you feel is his hand on your head, petting you like you were some sort of unruly cat.
Zayne’s fingers begin to slip and you can feel the soft tips of his fingers graze the side of your face, traveling lower as he traces your jawline. You hold still, eyes wide with anticipation. He doesn’t stop, his fingers dragging down the length of your neck, parting your robes until you feel his fingers swipe across your collarbone.
“You are stubborn,” he says softly, “steadfast and oddly endearing. Perhaps I should keep you by my side.”
You stare up at him, jaw slackening, baffled.
“I thought you would appreciate it,” he murmurs, the sharpness in his eyes returning, “just moments ago you were offering yourself to me.”
It’s a struggle to bite back the whimper that so eagerly wants to escape when his fingers drag lower, skimming across the soft skin of the tops of your breasts. His other hand plays with the knot tied at the side, nimble fingers untying the only thing keeping your robes together. The soft fabric slips from your shoulders and you find yourself in front of the Emperor, breasts bared.
He lets out a low hum, both of his hands coming to cup your breasts. Your teeth have been biting into your lip so hard that you can taste the tang of blood on your tongue. Zayne swipes his thumbs over your nipples and you find yourself unable to rip free from his wandering touch.
“Should you not tell me to stop?” the Emperor asks, his face nearing yours.
There’s no will left in you to answer, a sharp gasp escaping you when he pinches your nipples to punctuate his question. The sensation only adds to the wetness pooling between your thighs.
“Please,” you whimper, the desperation clear in your eyes, “please, Zayne.”
“I may have the favor of the gods, but I cannot foresee your desires,” he whispers, the tip of his nose brushing yours, “tell me. What is it you want?”
“Kiss,” you manage out, “kiss me, please.”
The Emperor’s hands haven’t stopped their exploration, squeezing and groping at your breasts. Zayne lowers his head, forehead pressing against yours as you mewl and whimper under the onslaught of his caressing touches. The ache between your thighs has become unbearable with the way he plays with your nipples. He tugs and pinches, thumbs swiping over your areolas to grant you reprieve before rolling your nipples between his fingers again.
“Wantonness has made you far more polite,” he whispers, lips brushing against yours.
It’s not a kiss, and you’re squirming in frustration with the way the Emperor is stringing you along, driving you to the edge of pleasure and yet refusing to grant you what you desire the most.
“I- I can be even more polite,” you mumble pathetically, hands curling into his robes.
You chase after his lips, brows furrowing when he draws up to his full height, smiling down at you. Lips jutting out into a pout, you stand on the tips of your toes, trying to tug him back down so you can kiss him. It’s a futile endeavor, the Emperor only manages to evade all of your attempts to draw him into a kiss.
“I shall look forward to it,” Zayne murmurs, his lips pressing against your forehead gently.
There’s no way to discern what exactly is going through the Emperor’s mind. He no longer continues with his lustful touches, pulling away with a final caress of your breasts as he pulls your loosened robes over your shoulders again. You can only watch with dazed eyes, frozen in place as he helps redo the knot holding your robes together, covering you up properly so that unnecessary slivers of skin aren’t showing anymore.
“Do you do this with the others?” you ask, eyes finding his.
“Does the thought make you jealous?”
You frown at his retort, sending him a glare, “the Emperor may do as he wishes,” you grumble.
It’s hard to hide the jealousy that underlies your words. You want to be the only person he touches, to be the object of his affections. It’s a selfish desire to want the Emperor to need you only, but you can’t help yourself, envy flaring up inside of you at the thought of him touching another woman the way he touches you.
“You are the first to elicit such a reaction from me,” Zayne says, his fingers tilting your head so he can stare into your eyes more directly.
Letting out an irritated huff, you feel irked by his subtle way of trying to please you. He doesn’t reply to your display of irritation, nudging his forehead against yours as though trying to convey his affection.
“Go now,” he whispers, petting your hair again before he’s moving away, turning his back to you as he returns to peer out at the rain that falls outside.
You have half the mind to call him out on his behavior, but the reminder of your position is the stifling reality in which you live in. Despite his gaze elsewhere, you bow to him, turning on your heel to leave.
Thankfully, there are no lurking eunuchs to question your brief stay in the Emperor’s quarters. The palace staff don’t pay you any mind as you return to your chambers, and you explain to the other girls that you feel sick.
The whimpers that spill from your mouth are muffled by the pillow that you’ve pressed your face into, the fingers of one hand rubbing at your clit and the other hand pinching at your nipples as you try to mimic the way the Emperor had touched you. With the image of Zayne’s face ingrained into your mind, it doesn’t take long, a soft moan escaping into the quiet of your chambers as you come apart on your fingers.
-
You’re spying on the Emperor.
The past year had been plenty of time to explore the palace and figure out the little passageways that weren’t well known. Perhaps you were just as bad as his advisors that were intent on prying into Zayne’s private life, but you just couldn’t help yourself.
It’s why you’re here now, hovering outside his quarters, pretending to take great interest in the portraits that line the halls. Every now and then, your eyes flick over to where the guards stand, trying to discern whether anyone was entering or leaving his chambers.
You almost feel pathetic for acting in such a way, but he was the only thing you could think about. Visiting the gardens had grown dull, despite the leaves turning into pretty shades of orange and red in the autumn air, thoughts of the Emperor taking root in the crevices of your mind instead.
“My grandfather,” a deep voice breaks through your thoughts.
You don’t have to look to know who it is.
“Handsome,” you mutter, taking a step closer to examine the portrait genuinely this time.
“My guards have complained about a woman hiding in the hallways,” Zayne says, his hand falling onto your shoulder.
“I did not realize it was an offense to admire fine art,” you shoot back.
“There are far finer things in this palace,” he murmurs, stepping forward until you’ve been backed up against the wall.
It’s becoming more and more apparent to you that the Emperor must be suffering some sort of illness to the mind. You struggle to come up with a reason as to why his arm curls around your waist, whilst he presses himself closer.
You try and push at his firm chest, but he doesn’t budge.
“People will see,” you whisper heatedly, eyes darting to the sides despite Zayne being so close that you can hardly see anything but him.
“So let them.”
Zayne reaches out, his hand cupping your cheek. You stiffen under the sudden touch, eyes widening when his thumb brushes over your skin.
“Why are you doing this?” you whisper, frowning.
“Is my mind not allowed to change?” he asks in return, head lowering until his forehead is pressed against yours.
“I am far more concerned that you have lost your mind.”
The Emperor lets out a deep chuckle and you think the air around you both has somehow grown thicker with how lightheaded you’re feeling.
“I assure you, I am still of sound mind.”
His nose brushes against yours, and you rise to meet the challenge, nose nudging against his gently. The heat of his body is intoxicating, his arm tightening around your waist as he exhales. Your eyes flutter shut, anticipating the feeling of his lips against yours.
It’s not to be, not when an Imperial guard insists on interrupting your moment with the Emperor.
“Is this woman bothering you?” the guard asks, his gaze dragging over you with obvious disregard.
The utter nerve. Eye twitching, you ready yourself to snap back but Zayne’s squeeze to your waist has you staying silent.
“She was feeling ill,” Zayne lies steadily.
The Emperor’s mask of cool indifference slips over him easily, his lips pulled thin as he speaks to the guard.
“I shall escort her to the physician,” the guard offers, his hand reaching for you.
Zayne pulls you out of reach before the guard can touch you, tucking you against his side.
“No need,” Zayne says, “I shall take her myself.”
You can almost hear the nervous gulp that the guard takes, his face paling at the Emperor’s stony disposition. Unfortunately, you don’t get long to revel in the satisfaction that spreads through your body when Zayne reprimands the guard.
Zayne tugs you along, his hand wrapped around your wrist. It appears the Emperor knows of the passages as well, and a few twists and turns later you find yourself back in the Emperor’s quarters, having bypassed the Imperial guards.
“Did you see his face?” you snicker, looking over at Zayne.
Your smile fades when he doesn’t reply, the grip on your wrist almost painful without how firmly his hand is still holding onto you.
“Zayne? Are you-”
You nearly trip over your own feet when he suddenly pulls you closer. Zayne’s lips are slotting over yours, his large hands cupping your cheeks as he kisses you. There’s a small noise of surprise coming from you, eyes widening before they flutter shut, your body lulled into submission with the feverish kisses Zayne gives you.
He groans into your mouth and you cling to his robes, rising up on the tips of your toes to meet his kisses better. The Emperor might’ve been starved with the way he’s kissing you, his lips firm and insistent against yours whilst he holds you in place.
Zayne pulls away after a while, and you’re completely and utterly dazed, chest heaving as soft pants fill the space between you both.
“Will you have me?” he whispers, his fingers tracing the curve of your cheek.
No man has ever spoken such words to you. Your breath catches in your throat, heart clenching uncomfortably in your chest. As the Emperor, he shouldn’t say such a thing.
“It is beneath you to ask,” you murmur, averting your gaze.
“And yet, I am asking,” Zayne replies, his hands maneuvering your head until you have no choice but to look into his eyes.
Letting out an irritated huff, as though he had somehow inconvenienced you, you lean forward and press a chaste kiss against his lips. You can’t bring yourself to say the words out loud, feeling uncharacteristically shy as you shift on the spot.
“I see.”
Zayne’s surging towards you again, lips crashing onto yours. You whimper, hands scrabbling at his shoulders as you press yourself closer. His arms are wrapping around your waist, keeping you flush against him as he ravages your mouth.
His tongue is teasing your lower lip, coaxing it open. You have no choice but to obey, letting out a muffled moan when his tongue slides deeper into your mouth, his hand pulling at the pin holding your hair together.
You squeak when he picks you up, his lips trailing burning kisses down your neck as he nudges the partition blocking his way to his bed. Zayne undoes the knot holding your robes together before long, your thighs straddling his hips as you sit perched on his lap once he sits down on his bed.
“Have you really never given yourself to anyone?” Zayne asks quietly, his fingers tracing across the soft skin of your shoulders.
You nod, body leaning forward to chase after his touch as his fingers find their way back down to your nipples, rolling the pebbled buds between the pads of his fingers.
“H- have you?” you ask, biting your lip as he presses heated kisses against your collarbone.
He shakes his head, lips drifting lower and lower, until your body twitches as his lips enclose around your nipple. A whimper leaves you, and Zayne grows bolder with his movements, sucking harshly as his tongue swirls around your nipple, flicking the little bud in his mouth.
Your hands have drifted into his hair, pulling free the band that holds his long locks together. His dark hair runs past his shoulders, the strands soft under your touch as you pull at his hair, moaning as he continues his exploration across your chest.
Zayne looks up at you with half-lidded eyes, spit-slick lips dragging across your chest to pepper kisses against your other breast, his mouth enveloping your nipple yet again. He lets out a low groan and you whine, pulling at his robes desperately to pull them off.
“Oh,” you breathe out when he lets you, biting your lip at the sight of his bare chest and abdomen.
Your fingers spread across his chest eagerly, mapping out the expanse of his skin. There’s a sly smile spreading across your face when you see his cheeks flush pink as your fingers drag lower, past his navel.
“Enjoying yourself?” he asks hoarsely, his head tipping back.
“Should I not?” you whisper, fingers delving lower until you can feel his hardness through his robes.
You rub your hand against the bulge experimentally, eyes lighting up when he lets out a grunt. Face tucking into the crook of his neck, your breasts squished against his chest, you place hungry kisses against his neck, palming at his bulge.
The Emperor tugs at your hair, pulling your head back. You stare up at him, meeting him in the middle when he leans forward, sharing a sloppy kiss. His hands squeeze at your waist and you shift in his lap, letting him undress you completely.
Nervousness flits across your face as he stares at your bare body, hands leaving him to cover yourself up. He grabs your hands before you can, placing a soft kiss to your jaw.
“You are beautiful,” he whispers, lips drifting to kiss the shell of your ear.
A shy smile pulls at your lips and he squeezes your waist again. Your brows furrow when he jostles you, making you straddle his thigh instead.
“I want to watch,” Zayne says, his fingers dimpling into the fat of your thighs.
“Watch?” you echo, head tilting in question.
“I want to watch you come undone,” he clarifies, gripping your hips as he guides you into grinding against his thigh.
A strangled noise leaves you and he pats your hip, satisfied. You’re so aroused that your slick has begun to wet his silken robes, the fabric darkening as you roll your hips, dragging your pussy against his thigh.
“I- I want to watch you too,” you gasp out.
Zayne obliges and you watch as he pulls his cock free. The sight is almost enough to have you coming on his covered thigh. His fingers wrap around his cock and you whine, hips rolling faster.
“Is it to your satisfaction?” he murmurs.
You nod rapidly. It is. You’ve never seen one before, but you just know Zayne’s is pretty compared to the others. His cock is thick, flushed prettily at the tip to match the blush on his cheeks and you lick your lips, wondering what it might feel like in your mouth.
“Another time,” Zayne says, smiling when he sees the expression on your face.
It’s entrancing to watch the way his hand drags up and down his cock, his long fingers wrapped around himself. Globs of pre-cum bead at the tip, wetting his hands and his cock, creating a sinful sound.
Unable to help yourself, you tilt your head, tongue lolling out as you let your own spit drip down onto his cock. You hum in delight when his thighs twitch, your eyes peering into his as you drag your cunt against his thigh, clit catching on the fabric of his robes just right.
“I did not know my concubine was so depraved,” he murmurs, his hand kneading the flesh at your hip roughly.
You give him a dopey smile, eyes slipping back down to watch his hand move around his cock whilst you rock your hips. Head falling against his shoulder, your lips drag across his chest, landing soft kisses against his skin before nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck, nipping his skin lightly.
Airy sounds fill the air, his quiet moans and your soft whimpers emanating in his quarters.
Wrapping your arms around his neck, you press yourself closer, guiding his head into another kiss. It’s messy, his tongue licking into your mouth with no hesitation. Zayne’s pulling apart suddenly, his previous desire of watching you come undone on your thigh forgotten as he manhandles your body, making you lay down against his bed.
The Emperor kisses you over and over, and your head is swirling, trying to keep up whilst his fingers have found their way down to your pussy, rubbing your wetness across the sensitive flesh before he finds your clit. All it takes is one firm press of his thumb, your thighs twitching violently as you grasp at the sheets, moaning loudly as you come.
He smiles against your lips, granting you one last kiss before he directs his attention elsewhere, his face disappearing between your thighs.
“Z-Zayne!” you squeal, pushing at his head, trying to get him to stop as the overstimulation becomes too much.
The Emperor ignores you in favor of thumbing apart your folds, his eyes trained on your clit.
“Pretty” he whispers, the pads of his fingers stroking over your clit gently, “and so, so swollen.”
It has your eyes rolling to the back of your head, and he kisses the inside of your thighs, edging closer to your pussy, letting out a low breath, the air hitting your exposed pussy.
He groans when you tug at his hair, and you writhe, trying to somehow free yourself from the onslaught of his tongue as he laves over your pussy, pressing sloppy kisses against your skin, his lips latching onto your swollen clit. Zayne’s tongue flicks against the sensitive bud, teasing you.
Something between a moan and a scream climbs its way out your throat, the sound ringing in through his chambers as you come again, thighs firmly squeezing his head. Your eyes widen when you realize the guards are still outside the doors, panic flaring through your body as you scramble to sit up.
Zayne’s hand slides over your mouth before you can get anything out, the stern look in his eyes making you go still. The rapping of the guard’s knuckles against the door has you rigid, eyes widening in alarm as he begins to move his tongue yet again.
You glare at Zayne, tugging at his hair roughly to make it hurt as you attempt to get his mouth off of you. Zayne only gives you a hazy look, looking utterly gone as he presses his face deeper into your cunt. It’s a struggle to keep the noises in, your body shaking as his nose rubs into your clit and his tongue fucks in and out of your aching hole.
“Your majesty?” An urgent voice calls out from behind the door, and you can hear the faint scuffling noises of the guards’ boots.
“Someone get this door open!” another voice hisses, the sliding doors rattling soon after.
The Emperor grunts into your cunt, raising up finally. The sight of him is nearly enough to make you come for a third time. Zayne is utterly disheveled, his cheeks pink and the lower half of his face glistening with your slick.
You watch as he runs his hand through his hair, biting your lip as you let your gaze wander, catching on his cock once again. He looks painfully hard, cum smeared across his skin and drool is pooling in your mouth. Getting onto your knees, you crawl forward eager to envelop it in your mouth.
The tip makes its way into your mouth for a brief moment and you can barely suck when Zayne is yanking you off of his cock, his hand curled into your hair.
“Everything is fine,” the Emperor snaps, narrowing his eyes when you pout.
“We heard-”
“I said,” Zayne’s voice grows louder, “everything is fine.”
You think he might take out his wrath on you with the way he grips your cheeks roughly, planting another kiss to your lips. He’s manhandling you yet again, pushing at your shoulders to make you lie down as he settles his hips between your thighs.
Zayne’s cum smears against your skin and you whimper when the fat tip of his cock nudges against your clit. He lands a gentler kiss to your cheek, his hand cupping your cheek as you squirm under him, whimpering as he grinds his cock against your cunt.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, his face pressing into the crook of your neck as he lets his cock slide up and down against your folds, “my good girl.”
“Yours,” you agree, cheek squishing against the pillow, “all yours.”
“I want to see you like this all the time,” Zayne confesses, his hand grasping his cock to press it firmly against your cunt, coating it with your arousal, “all flustered and needy… perhaps I am losing my sanity.”
You need him inside of you. The emptiness in your pussy has made you all too aware, hips bucking with every drag of his heavy cock.
“More,” you whisper, voice slurring, “Zayne, I want more.”
Zayne draws back slightly and you watch as he squeezes his cock, pre-cum dripping steadily onto your thigh. He reaches for your hand, fingers lacing with yours.
“Ready?” he murmurs.
You nod, swallowing down your nervousness. He presses his cock into your hole and the stretch is uncomfortable, a pained whimper leaving you as Zayne guides his cock into you.
“A little more,” he coaxes, kissing your forehead to try and distract you from the initial stretch.
He finally pushes his entire cock in, and you feel as though the air has been punched out of your lungs. Zayne fills you up so perfectly, his cock snug inside your cunt, the emptiness from earlier disappearing almost immediately.
It appears you have affected him just as much, his eyes squeezed shut as he pants into the crook of your neck, trying to get used to the wet heat of your cunt.
“Perfect,” he mutters mindlessly, and you can feel the twitch of his cock from inside of you, “so- so perfect and warm and tight.”
A hazy smile drifts across your face, legs locking tighter around his hips as your pussy clenches around him.
Zayne lets out a ragged gasp, and you know he can feel it. His eyes bore into yours, brows pulled together in annoyance at your little tease.
“Little minx,” he hisses.
It’s you that gasping this time when he draws his hips back, nails clawing at his back as he thrusts into you. His cock is stretching you out, over and over, as he tries to press it in deeper, trying to carve a path from your pussy to your heart.
“Too- too much!” you wail, arms wrapping around his neck to cling onto him.
“Do you want the guards to hear?” Zayne murmurs against your ear, his hips slowing slightly.
Through the haze of it all, your head turns, eyes finding his. The truth is, you wouldn’t exactly be opposed to the idea. Zayne can see the flash of interest in your eyes and he lets out a hoarse laugh, shaking his head.
“I should have taken you sooner,” he mutters, his fingers squeezing at your hips, “kept you close to me from the beginning.”
You preen at the thought, pressing sloppy kisses against his jaw, feeling his cock drag in and out of you.
“Next time, I shall take you on my throne.”
Your movements pause, eyes widening as he whispers those words, his lips brushing across yours.
“Not like that-” you begin to say, cheeks flushing deeper as you imagine him taking you on his throne, his hips rutting into yours like they were now.
“Why not?” he asks, “Shall I command it? Have-” Zayne lets out a shuddering breath “have my entire court watch as my pretty, little concubine loses her mind, drunk on my cock as I claim her atop my throne?”
You moan unabashedly, cunt clenching around him tightly. Zayne grunts, his hips stuttering when at the feeling of your walls tightening before he’s gripping your thigh, his chest flush against yours as he picks up the pace.
It’s no secret that the guards must have heard what was happening inside, your loud moans most likely drifting through the wood of the doors. Both you and the Emperor don’t seem to care, lost in the blur of lust that swirls between you both.
“Deeper,” you mumble, pouting up at him, “need- need you closer, Zayne.”
“You are going to be the death of me,” Zayne mutters, dropping his weight on top of you.
You mewl in delight, the feeling of his body against yours deliciously warm. He hikes your thighs up a little higher, hips pressing deeper until you gasp. You can feel his balls pressed snugly against your ass, his cock as deep inside of you as it could go.
“Take it,” he whispers, his hand beginning to stroke your hair as he moves his hips. Short, sharp thrusts that serve to bury his cock into your cunt the way you want, “take it, my love.”
My love. Skin against skin. His hand stroking your hair gently. Girthy cock filling you up perfectly.
The sensations mixed with his affection are too much, pulling at your heart uncomfortably until you let out a sniffle, staring up at him with glassy eyes.
Concern passes through his eyes when he hears you sniffle, his hand cupping your cheek as his thumb swipes away a stray tear that beads at the corner of your eye.
“Am I hurting you?” Zayne asks softly.
You shake your head, lips trembling even more at his display of concern.
“I just like you a lot is all,” you whisper, sniffling quietly.
“I like you too,” Zayne replies in kind, his lips pressing soft kisses against your cheek, “and I take care of what’s mine.”
He leans down, lips pressing against yours in a tender kiss. Your tears wet his cheeks as he keeps you there, kissing you gently whilst his hips roll into you.
“Let go for me, my love” he murmurs, and you’re clenching around him again, feeling his hand sneak its way between your bodies as his thumb rubs against your clit.
You whimper, head pressing back as you arch your back, the sensation of his cock and his fingers driving you further and further to the edge until he latches his mouth onto your breast, catching your nipple between his teeth. He bites down and a broken moan fills the air, body shuddering as you come on his cock.
“Oh fuck,” Zayne grits out when he feels the harsh clench of your cunt around his cock.
You can feel him bury his face into your chest and you reach up weakly, running your fingers through his hair. It’s enough to have him letting out a guttural noise against your chest, his fat cock twitching as his thick cum floods your pussy.
The Emperor lays on top of you, both of your bodies loosened completely. You whimper when he pulls out of you, his cum beginning to leak out from your cunt. Zayne stares at the sight for a moment, entranced, before pulling you closer, letting you press your face into his chest as he kisses your forehead.
“Everyone will know by now,” you whisper.
“They will,” he agrees, his fingers prying your face away from where it hides.
Zayne peers down into your eyes, a faint smile playing across his lips as he swipes his thumbs against your skin.
“Stay here with me,” he says quietly, “by my side.”
You laugh softly at his proposition.
“I am your concubine,” you murmur, reaching up to curl your hand around his wrist, “nothing more.”
“You will be more,” Zayne insists, his voice hardening, “I will have you.”
“Your advisors would not allow it!” you protest, eyes turning glassy again.
“Desperation will make them vulnerable to acceptance,” he retorts, his body pressing closer as though to keep you tethered to him, hands tightening around your cheeks.
“I am the Emperor,” he continues, forehead pressing against yours as his eyes bore into yours, “you said it yourself. I may do as I wish, and what I wish for is for you to be by my side.”
You swallow harshly, blinking up at him when you hear the sternness of his voice. He doesn’t give you a chance to reply, kissing you desperately.
“Stay with me, my love” he whispers again, stealing kiss after kiss from you.
“Okay,” you relent, sinking into his embrace and returning his kisses just as desperately, “okay.”
The Emperor holds you close to his chest, his arms wrapped around you tightly. The heat of his body has your eyes drooping shut, his lips brushing over your forehead as he whispers sweet promises of his love.
Outside, far away from the warmth of love’s embrace, the first fall of snow has begun to drift from the sky.
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A Dance With Danger
Pairing: Hunter x fem!Reader
Words: 19,621 (oops!)
Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! friends to lovers, implied trauma and sex work, sexual assault type situations, canon typical violence, protective!Hunter, smut, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, primal kink kinda? it's Hunter so...
Summary: Life has been pretty good since Hunter and the Batch unexpectedly entered your life, but you can't help but want more. When Cid offers you a job you can't refuse, you find yourself drawn back into the life you worked so hard to escape from, and Hunter's protective nature doesn't help.
A/N: I've had this one saved in my drafts for literal years, and it's a relief to finally post it. Somewhere along the way this got way longer than I intended so it's a bit of a hike to get to the smut.
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With a confident stride, you make your way through the colorful chaos of Ord Mantell City's market, a covered satchel slung over your shoulder. The city has no set market square. Instead, makeshift stalls and tents offering a variety of goods dot both sides of the street, creating a maze-like sprawl.
You focus your attention on your path, making sure not to bump into any of the other beings that are hurrying past you. The crowd thins a bit as you leave the main bazaar and head down a series of increasingly narrow and deserted side streets. A few minutes later, you step out of a shadowy passageway and into a dimly lit back alley.
Suddenly, loud gasp escapes you as you feel yourself being tugged forward and pulled into the alley's darkness, a pair of strong hands on your waist.
Before you can react, you’re yanked onto your toes and pinned against the wall, a knife jutting into the delicate skin of your neck.
"You’re dead,” a voice rasps.
But you feel no fear. Instead, you smile and laugh, leaning in to the edge of the vibroblade and pushing your body against the hard contours of the man who holds you. The weapon quickly pulls away from your neck before it can slice into you.
“Hunter!” you say, your voice laced with amusement.
In the near dark, you see his eyes flash in annoyance.
“You need to be more aware of your surroundings,” Hunter admonishes.
“Oh, I’m plenty aware.”
Your eyes flicker downward toward the blade held deftly in your own hand, its tip poised towards the seam in his chest plate. He follows your gaze, eyebrows lifting slightly in surprise, before he draws back and sheathes his weapon.
He gives you a begrudging smile as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Fair play.”
You wink, sliding your knife into the sheath on your thigh. "What brings you to this end of town, Hunter? Business or pleasure?"
"Bit of both, really," he answers with a smirk, and you roll your eyes. "I had a delivery to make in the area."
You reach out to straighten the cloth around his shoulders, the red fabric soft and worn. "And how much was your cut?"
Hunter tilts his head, regarding you for a moment. "Not nearly as much as you'd think."
You pat his shoulder. "It never is, is it?"
“Where are you off to?” he asks as your hand retreats.
“Got a meeting with Cid. Walk with me?”
He nods, falling into step beside you as you begin to walk back through the market towards the arcade.
You move through the crowd in a comfortable silence, occasionally brushing against one another as you maneuver your way through the throng. You notice his gaze lingering on you as you walk, and a small smile crosses your lips. You’ve caught him looking before, but you never tire of seeing him do it.
You’re no stranger to the attention of men, and there was a time when you had relished it, but those days are long gone. Thankfully now, as you walk with Hunter, the gazes of the merchants and the other men seem to slide off you, unnoticed.
There's something different about him. He came into your life unexpectedly, and though his presence has disrupted the careful order of your days, it’s a welcome change.
He makes you feel safe. Protected. Wanted.
And he certainly isn’t hard on the eyes.
"So," Hunter begins, glancing at you. “You talk to her yet?”
“Ugh, yeah.” You roll your eyes. “Never heard her laugh so much before.”
As your foot kicks a rock in your path, he fixes you with a sympathetic look, but he doesn't say anything to try to comfort you. You like that about him — Hunter isn't a man of many words, so when he does speak, they count. And he never seems to tire of listening to you, somehow always knowing when you want to share something and when you want to stay in silence. He's good company.
“She said ‘it'll be a cold day on Mustafar before I let a circus freak tell me how to run my business,'" you say, altering your voice as you recall your boss's words. Normally, mimicking the Trandoshan makes you feel better in times like these, but it only serves to make your blood boil more.
Hunter sucks a breath through his teeth in a wince, knowing that you don't take that insult lightly. He stops walking and turns to face you, putting his hand on your shoulder to pull you aside before you can reach the arcade’s door. His hand is warm and firm, and you find yourself wanting him to leave it there.
"Hey. Look at me." His tone is commanding, but you detect a hint of warmth. You meet his gaze, taking in the rich brown of his eyes, the lines on his brow.
"Don't worry about Cid. You'll get your chance." He leans closer to you, and you're surprised at the tenderness in his voice.
A grin creeps across your lips.
"Hunter, are you giving me a pep talk?"
His expression doesn't change.
"Just a little encouragement," he says, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze.
You sigh. You want to believe him, but he doesn't know Cid like you do.
"She's right, though. I am a circus freak," you mutter.
"I don't see it," Hunter replies. "I mean, you are a bit of a show-off, but..."
You give him a shove, and he laughs, his eyes crinkling. You love when he does that — his smiles are few and far between, so you treasure every one you manage to elicit.
You shake your head at him, smiling in spite of yourself.
"Well, thanks. I'll take it."
He nods, removing his hand from your shoulder, a ghost of a smile still on his lips. "Anytime."
Hunter opens the door for you, and you make your way through the arcade, weaving past a group of Pantorans who are huddled together arguing over Sabacc. Hunter's brothers are already posted up at the bar, their usual spot. Omega is seated on the counter next to a bottle of some kind of soda, her legs dangling and kicking.
Cid looks up from behind the bar, her reptilian eyes narrowing in on you immediately.
"You're late," she barks, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Had an appointment," you answer, giving the Trandoshan a saccharine smile. Cid doesn't ask for details, just snorts and gestures for you to join her in the back.
Omega looks at you and waves. "Hi!"
"Hey, kid," you reply, giving the girl a little wave in return. "How you doing?"
Omega's eyes light up as she speaks to you. "Good! We just got a new job. Well, we're waiting for the client to show up."
"Oh, really? That's exciting." You turn your gaze to the others, who are all looking at you, and offer a small smile. You're still a bit embarrassed by your behavior the last time you were on a job together, when you made an impulsive move and got yourself injured.
You spent several days recovering in the clinic, bored out of your mind, until one afternoon, Omega showed up to keep you company. You didn't mind her company; she was a sweet girl, and a smart one, too. She reminded you a bit of yourself at that age, though with a much better head on her shoulders.
Your attention returns to Hunter, whose brown eyes are fixed on you. He has a curious look on his face, like he's trying to puzzle something out, and you're tempted to ask him what he's thinking.
Omega looks back and forth between you, clearly noticing the silent exchange, and you give her a little wink, causing her to grin.
"Well," you say, turning toward the hallway that leads to Cid's office. "Have fun on your next job, guys."
"We will!" Omega calls after you.
In Cid's office, the older woman is seated behind her desk, the same scowl on her face that she has every time you come into the room. It doesn't matter how many times you go in there, or how much Cid trusts you — it's like her face is stuck that way.
"Sit," Cid commands, pointing a claw toward the chair in front of her desk.
You sit down, placing the satchel on your lap. The Trandoshan stares you down, her yellow eyes piercing.
"You're not gonna believe what I'm about to tell you," Cid begins.
"You're right," you reply. "I won't."
Cid snorts, a sound that you have grown used to over the years, and reaches for the bottle of liquor sitting on her desk. You watch her pour two glasses and slide one over.
"What's the job?"
Her answering grin reveals sharp teeth, and you know you're going to like what she’s about to say. "The biggest one I've ever landed. It's gonna be worth a fortune."
"Well, spill." You lean forward, propping your elbows on your knees.
"There's this artifact." Cid lowers her voice. "A crystal."
You frown. Not what you were expecting.
"Oh."
"It's supposed to give its bearer great power," Cid continues, undeterred by your lack of enthusiasm.
"Sounds like a load of bantha shit to me."
"Yeah, I know." The Trandoshan sighs, scratching her chin with her claw. "I told him I didn't believe in that crap, but the guy said he was willing to pay us 500,000 credits. Can you believe that? I can finally fix this place up, make it nice."
"500,000, huh?"
"Yeah."
You purse your lips. "Why don't we just grab the thing and sell it ourselves? Seems like there might be people out there who would be interested."
Cid narrows her eyes. "That's not how I do business, kid. If the client knows the location, it's better if we just do the job and collect the pay."
"And what if it's a set-up?"
"Then we deal with it." Cid leans back in her chair, taking a sip from her glass. "It's a risk I'm willing to take."
"I see." You pick up your own glass and take a swig. The liquid burns as it makes its way down your throat, but you enjoy the feeling. Better than sitting here sober, anyway. “This sounds too easy, Cid. All I have to do is go to this place and grab the crystal? That's it?"
"It's a little more complicated than that.” Cid shifts in her seat. You bite back a groan. “You see, it's already been stolen. The client hired us to find it and bring it back to him. He's got the money and the location of the thief."
"Oh, that's wonderful," you say. "Anything else I should know?”
"The thief is on his way to Nal Hutta to make a deal," Cid says, and your heart leaps to your throat. You immediately start to shake your head, the words escaping your lips in a rush.
"Cid, no. I'm not going back there."
"You go where I tell you to go.” She bares her sharp teeth, hissing.
"Cid, I'm not."
Cid snarls and rises to her feet. Her hands slam down on the desk and rattle the glass and the bottle. “This is a huge job, kid. We're gonna make bank."
"Why don't you send someone else?"
"Because I'm sending you.” She jabs a claw in your direction. "I've got a lot riding on this, so I need you to go and bring me the damn crystal."
You sigh, leaning back in your chair. The fight bleeds out of you as you realize that you won't be able to change her mind. “How?”
Cid's demeanor changes, and she relaxes, settling back into her seat. She picks up her glass and takes a sip, gesturing toward you with it. "It's pretty simple, really. You’re going back to your roots. Word around Hutta Town is Nola’s cantina is looking for new dancers, and I said I knew just the girl for the job.”
You feel yourself tense, and your fingers clench the arms of the chair.
"Oh, so you want me to dance for this guy? Maybe suck him off in the back room while I'm at it?" you snap, not bothering to mask the disgust in your voice.
Cid doesn't seem affected by your words, her expression remaining neutral. "Do whatever you have to, kid." She shrugs. "Just bring me back that crystal."
You take a deep breath, exhaling loudly. "Fine."
“What?”
A voice just outside the door gives you both pause. Your eyes widen, and Cid looks downright murderous.
A moment later, Hunter bursts into the room, boots eating up the ground between him and Cid's desk before you can blink. He crosses his arms, fixing Cid with a look that would've made a lesser being tremble.
“Absolutely not."
Your eyes widen in disbelief, and Cid's lip curls.
“You should keep that big nose out of business that doesn’t concern you, bandana,” Cid hisses, rising from her chair again. “She’s a big girl. One who works for me and does what I tell her to."
You sigh and rub your temples. "Hunter, please —"
"No," he snaps, his gaze still trained on the Trandoshan. “You’re sending her to steal from the Hutts without backup. That concerns me.”
“Hunter, I'll be fine,” you try to interject.
“Like hell you will be.” He glares at you, and you blink, mouth falling open. You haven't seen him this worked up in a long time, and you’re not sure how to feel about it. You rack your memory for the last time someone came to your defense like this and come up short. It’s a little flattering, but it also stings a bit.
Cid slams her fist down on the desk. You flinch, and Hunter doesn't move.
"Listen closely," Cid growls. "She's my employee. I'm her boss. She's not your responsibility. Now get out of here."
Hunter's gaze is hard. You watch the muscles in his jaw twitch.
"She can also take care of herself," you interject, and Cid points at you.
"That's right, she can."
Hunter whirls on you, his face incredulous.
"You can't be serious," he spits.
"I've done a lot worse for a lot less," you remind him, standing up. You're trying to stay calm, but his words are starting to get under your skin. You hate that you have to explain yourself.
"That doesn't make me feel any better," Hunter snaps. He’s nearly shouting now, and you grit your teeth. You're starting to lose your patience, and you can feel a familiar tightness building in your chest.
"I don't care how you feel. She's been doing this for a long time," Cid growls, baring her teeth. “Longer than you’ve been alive, probably."
Hunter turns to face her, and you watch him square his shoulders, preparing to go toe-to-toe with the Trandoshan. You wonder if he has a death wish, but part of you can't help but be intrigued by his brazen display.
You shake your head, reaching for the bottle of liquor.
You know Hunter and Cid are arguing, their voices becoming more heated, but the words fade away as you lift your glass to your lips and swallow. The alcohol is sweet and strong, burning down your throat and spreading heat through your limbs. You’re beginning to feel better already until the next words out of Hunter’s mouth hit your ears.
"You can't expect me to sit idly by and allow—"
“Allow?” You slam the glass down on the desk. The sound echoes throughout the small office, and Cid and Hunter both fall silent, turning their heads toward you. You fix Hunter with a glare, your eyes narrowed. "Excuse me, what exactly do you think you can do to stop me?"
Hunter's jaw clenches. "I can make you see reason."
"Or you could let her do her job," Cid says, a cruel smirk twisting her lips. “Listen to her if you know what’s good for you.”
"No." He crosses his arms. “She's not going alone. It’s suicide.”
"Well, it's a good thing it's not up to you." You stand up and take a step closer, squaring up to him. You're shorter than he is, and he has a good deal of bulk on you, but he doesn't intimidate you.
Hunter's eyes widen, and you think he looks a little taken aback, maybe even a bit impressed. But the emotion doesn't last long.
His brow furrows, and you can see the gears turning in his head as he tries to find another way to convince you to listen to him.
"I'm not letting you go."
You take a deep breath, steadying yourself. This is not the first time you've disagreed about a mission, and it certainly won't be the last, but this time, you won't allow him to talk you out of it. Not with a take this big.
"Look, Hunter," you say, keeping your tone light, "I appreciate the concern, but I can handle it."
His expression shifts, and the anger and frustration in his eyes give way to disappointment. You try to ignore the way it stings.
"This is how I make my living. It's just a job, like any other," you say softly, hoping he can hear the sincerity in your voice.
He looks at you for a moment longer, his eyes searching your face. Then he crosses his arms and shakes his head. "That's not good enough for me."
"Well, it's all I have."
He sighs and closes his eyes. “No. You're not going alone.”
“Hunter—“
“I’m coming with you.”
The air around you seems to still. Cid sucks in a breath. Your brows knit together.
"What?" you ask.
Hunter's eyes meet yours, his expression determined. "I'm coming with you. You need backup."
You shake your head. "Hunter, no. I can't ask you to do that."
"You're not asking." He's smiling, and it's a soft, genuine smile. He places a hand on your shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze. His gaze is warm, and it fills you with an unexpected sense of calm. "I'm offering."
You can tell he's serious, and the thought of him accompanying you both excites and terrifies you. You know you're strong and capable, but the idea of working with a partner again has you feeling nervous.
And the idea of working with Hunter specifically? Well, it does things to your insides that you don't care to examine too closely.
"What about the others?" you ask, and he shrugs.
"They can manage without me."
"That's not fair. You can't abandon them because of me.”
Hunter gives your shoulder a little shake, his expression earnest. "I'm not abandoning anyone," he says gently. “I'm coming with you. They will be fine. They're more than capable of taking care of themselves."
"I... Hunter, I don't know."
He lets out a quiet chuckle and removes his hand from your shoulder, the absence of his touch making you feel strangely bereft.
"We can argue about it, or we can agree to go together," he offers.
"Hunter—"
"Oh, this is too precious," Cid mutters, cutting off your objection. She looks back and forth between you, a toothy grin spreading across her face. "Look, lovebirds, I won't stop you if you decide to go together, but you're splitting her cut."
You open your mouth to protest, but Hunter speaks before you can, his voice low. "Deal."
"What?"
"Deal," he repeats, looking at you.
You shake your head, running your hands over your face. Your skin is burning, your mind racing. How could he be so willing to just...leave his team like this? To offer himself up for the sake of your mission, for the sake of your well-being?
It makes no sense.
And yet...
"Fine. We'll do it your way," you finally say.
"Good." Hunter gives you a curt nod.
"Good." Cid chuckles, the sound like a growl in her throat. "Here's the plan..."
“Do you really think I can’t do this alone?” you ask after nearly an hour of silence between you.
You're both en route to Nal Hutta, traveling undercover in an older model cargo ship, and you've been quiet most of the journey. Hunter had expected you to be angry with him, and perhaps a part of you was, but you've also been withdrawn and quiet. You spent the first part of the trip going over the details of the mission, and he can't help but feel like something has shifted between you.
He doesn't regret his decision, not even for a second.
He knows that you can handle yourself, that you've survived in the galaxy on your own since before he was even decanted, and he respects that. But it doesn't stop him from wanting to be there, to protect you if he needs to. It's something he can't explain, an instinct that he feels deep down in his bones.
But you're right. It isn't his place to make this decision for you.
Hunter turns toward you, his gaze roaming over your form. You're seated next to him, your legs crossed, and your gaze is focused out the viewport, watching the blue streaks of hyperspace pass you by. He wants to reach out and place his hand on your knee, to reassure you that his intentions are not meant to be condescending.
Instead, he chooses his words carefully, speaking slowly.
"I didn't say that."
You frown. "You were thinking it."
He sighs, turning back toward the viewport. "I don't think you need anyone," he admits, his voice quiet. "You're a…very capable woman."
You scoff. Yeah, he definitely could've phrased that better.
You lean forward, your hands folded together between your knees. Hunter can't help but admire the way the fabric of your shirt pulls taut against the curves of your body before he forces his eyes away.
"That's not what you said in Cid's office."
He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. He can't deny that his words were a bit harsh, that he allowed his frustration and concern to get the better of him, and he can only hope that he hasn't managed to completely ruin his chances with you.
"I'm sorry about that," he says. "But I can't help how I feel."
"What is that supposed to mean?" you ask, your tone sharp. Hunter turns his head, finding you looking at him, your gaze curious and intense.
"I—" He pauses, licking his lips, searching for the right words. He can't very well tell you the truth. That you've come to mean more to him than he ever intended, that he's grown to care about you and respect you. That he's not sure he can let you out of his sight again, at least not until this is all over.
"It means that I'm concerned," he finally says, settling on a version of the truth that feels easier, less risky.
"You don't need to be," you reply, crossing your arms.
Hunter wants to reassure you, but the truth is, he's worried about you. The thought of you walking into that den of Hutts, alone and defenseless, makes his blood boil.
You've been tight-lipped about your past, and he hasn't pressed you, but he can tell you're hiding something. And the idea that you're going to be forced to relive it, forced to face whatever trauma you've endured, leaves him feeling uneasy.
He has his own demons. He can only imagine what yours might be.
"Look, I know what I'm doing," you say when he doesn't reply, your voice softening.
"I know you do,” he says quietly, his fingers drumming against the armrest.
“Then why did you come?”
He inhales sharply, exhaling through his nose. It isn’t an easy question to answer, especially given the tumultuous state of your relationship. He’s long since given up denying his feelings for you, but you're a wildcard. You’re unpredictable, and he never knows where he stands with you.
There are times when he feels like he could just tell you, but the timing is never right. You’re always on your way out the door, or off to some job or another. You flit in and out of his life like a ghost, and he can never seem to catch you.
And then there are moments when you're close, when he's caught you staring at him, when your fingers have lingered on him just a bit longer than necessary. There are times when he swears he sees something there, something soft and tender in the way you look at him. But then you put the walls back up, and he's left wondering if he’ll ever truly be able to get close to you.
Still, the desire to confess his feelings is always there, simmering beneath the surface, waiting for an opportunity. At this point, it's almost inevitable, but he knows that it will take time, patience.
And so, for now, Hunter settles on an answer that isn't entirely the truth, but that's not exactly a lie, either.
"I couldn't let you go alone."
You blink. "Why not?"
He's quiet for a moment, searching for the right words.
"It’s not a regular job, cyar’ika. This is dangerous. I know from experience how often missions go sideways, variables change…with the Hutts involved, it complicates things.” He sighs. “And I couldn’t just stand by and watch you go into that den alone."
You purse your lips. "I could handle it."
"I know you could," he says, the corners of his lips quirking up.
"You're insufferable," you mumble, shaking your head.
He chuckles. "Maybe, but I'm telling the truth."
"Mmm."
You look back out the viewport, your expression thoughtful. He watches you for a moment, taking in the subtle curve of your cheek, the delicate arch of your brow. There's a slight flush to your skin, and he knows that you're trying to hide the way his words are affecting you.
It's adorable. You don't blush easily, and seeing the color rise in your cheeks makes him want to lean closer and press his lips to your temple.
The urge is almost overwhelming, and he's forced to look away.
It's strange, the effect you have on him. He's used to keeping his emotions in check, used to being in control, but around you, he feels like a ship spinning out of control. You make him feel things he's never felt before, and it scares him. Hunter is far from the only man who has noticed how beautiful you are, but it's more than just your physical appearance that draws him to you.
There's something about the way you move, the way you carry yourself, the way you speak, the way you fight. It all appeals to him on a primal level. He feels protective of you, and the desire to keep you safe is strong, but the urge to make you his is even stronger.
He's not sure if it's just lust or something more, but he knows that he wants you. Badly.
He just doesn't know how to tell you.
"So, you came along because you were worried about me?"
His attention returns to you, and he finds you looking at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. He doesn't return the expression.
"Yes."
Your smile falters, and you sigh. "Hmm."
"What does that mean?"
You turn away from him again, staring out at the stars. He can tell that there's something on your mind, something that's bothering you.
He knows that asking will only push you further away, and so he bites his tongue, resisting the urge to prod.
"Just that you're a bit of an ass, is all," you say, and the words are soft, without any real bite.
He laughs, and you shoot him a small grin.
"I never said I wasn't," he retorts, and you snort.
"Yeah, I suppose not." You smile.
Silence stretches between you, but it's not as awkward as he expects. Instead, it's comfortable, and he allows himself to relax a bit. He missed this in the short time you've been apart, the easy banter, the feeling of being close to you.
"I'm sorry if I overstepped," he says after a moment, keeping his tone light.
You shake your head. "It's okay."
He studies your face. There's no anger there, only acceptance. It's not the reaction he expected, but he's grateful for it.
"Really," he continues. "I didn't mean to make you feel like you couldn't do it."
"It's okay, Hunter." You pat his arm, giving him a gentle squeeze. "I know you're just looking out for me."
He swallows hard, his eyes dropping to where your hand rests on his arm. You must notice his gaze, because your fingers curl slightly, and a shiver runs down his spine.
“I appreciate you tagging along. Even if I don’t think it’s necessary,” you admit, shrugging one shoulder. “It’s nice to have some company for once.”
His heart swells at the confession, and he nods, unable to speak. You're looking at him with such openness and affection that it nearly knocks the breath from his lungs. He's grateful when you finally pull away and return your gaze to the viewport.
"Just don't let it go to your head," you add.
Hunter chuckles, leaning back in his seat. He watches you out of the corner of his eye, and a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he admires you.
It's not the first time he's wondered what it would be like to kiss you, to run his fingers through your hair, to feel the warmth of your body pressed against his, but it's the first time he's considered acting on his desires.
It's a tempting thought.
One that he quickly pushes aside, not wanting to make a fool of himself. You're not some random stranger at the cantina or an easy conquest. You're important to him, and he wants to take things slow, to treat you with the respect and reverence that you deserve. No matter how attractive he finds you, no matter how badly he wants you, he can wait.
He hopes.
Hunter feels his body heat up, and he forces himself to look away, clearing his throat. Now is not the time. You turn your head and give him a questioning look, and he realizes he hasn't spoken in several minutes.
"So, um..." he begins, trailing off as he tries to find the words.
"What?"
"I didn't know you could dance," he says.
You raise an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Oh?"
He nods. "I don't think I've ever seen you dance before."
You smirk, and the look makes him feel warm. Your brow arches. "Oh, you don't know the half of it."
He doesn't know what he was expecting you to say, but it wasn't that. His eyes widen slightly, and he leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees.
"Is that right?"
You nod, crossing your legs. He tries not to stare, but his eyes are drawn to the exposed skin of your thigh, and he swallows hard. You laugh softly, and the sound makes him look back up at you.
"Yeah, it's part of my act."
"What?"
You nod. "Back in the day, I had a routine."
"A routine?" he repeats. Not because he didn't hear you, but because he doesn't know how else to respond. His mind is supplying him with all sorts of images, and he can't seem to focus on anything else.
"Yeah. It's pretty standard. Some dancing, some acting, a little bit of seduction..." You trail off, giving him a coy look.
Hunter blinks, his brain finally catching up with the conversation. He sits up straighter in his chair, clearing his throat.
"Seduction, huh?"
"What? You don't believe me? That hurts, Hunter. I'm hurt." You pout, placing a hand on your chest, and he bites back a groan.
"No, I, uh... I didn't say that."
"I can be very convincing when I want to be," you murmur, leaning closer.
His heart rate quickens, and he licks his lips. He has no doubt that you could be, especially with the way you're looking at him. He's seen how good you are at manipulating others, and he knows you're probably just messing with him, but his body is responding to your advances nonetheless.
He takes a deep breath, his voice low and husky when he speaks.
"You should show me sometime."
The tension between you is palpable, and he finds himself leaning closer to you, his body moving of its own accord. Your gaze drops to his mouth as the space between you shrinks. His skin tingles, his lips parting, and he's almost certain that you're going to kiss him.
Instead, you sit back, grinning.
"Maybe I will."
He exhales slowly, his heart hammering against his ribcage. He runs a hand through his hair, trying to regain his composure. You're watching him with an amused look on your face, and he can't help but chuckle.
You're infuriating, and he should be frustrated, but he isn't. You're teasing him, and it's working. You're pushing him to his limits, testing his self-control, and he's enjoying it. It's not something he's experienced often, but he's finding that he likes it. He's never met anyone who has made him feel like this, and he wants more.
Hunter leans back in his chair, breaking eye contact, and you giggle. He closes his eyes and rubs his hands over his face, groaning softly. When he looks up, you're watching him with a knowing smirk on your face. He can't help but smile back.
"We should probably focus on the task at hand," you say, your voice light and teasing.
"Yeah. Probably." He shakes his head, the corners of his lips still turned up.
"Right. So...let's go over the plan one more time."
He nods and takes a deep breath. "Right."
You take a deep breath and let it out slowly.
Nal Hutta smells every bit as awful as you remember. The stench is overwhelming — the swampy miasma of rotting vegetation, pollution, and the smell of too many beings packed into a small area. Inside the cantina isn’t much better, but at least you can breathe without choking on the fetid air.
You make your way through the crowded club, the music blaring and the lights dim. You can feel eyes on you, the patrons watching as you pass. You ignore them, keeping your gaze straight ahead. You're dressed to impress, and your clothes leave little to the imagination. You're showing a lot of skin, and while the outfit is functional, you still feel a little vulnerable, but you've always enjoyed being the center of attention.
You've changed a lot in the last few years, but there are some things that will always stay the same.
Your hips sway to the beat as you cross the dance floor. You catch a few admiring glances and appreciative stares, but the one you feel most keenly is Hunter's. He's watching you, keeping his distance, and you can feel his gaze burning into your back as sure as if it was a physical thing.
Normally you find Hunter’s protectiveness endearing, but right now, it's nothing short of infuriating. When you returned to the ship to tell him Nola had given you the job, he insisted on coming along. Not that you would have allowed him to stay behind, but it would have been nice to have a say in the matter.
You had hoped that by allowing him to accompany you, he would have enough faith in you to allow you to work alone.
You were wrong.
He's been glued to your side since the moment you landed, hovering, and watching, and making you nervous. It was like pulling teeth getting him to agree to hang back and let you handle the situation on your own, and even now, his presence is distracting.
You try your best not to look Hunter’s way. You’re supposed to be making eyes at every customer, after all, not just the brooding man posted dutifully in a corner booth, an untouched drink in his hand. And he is brooding. You can practically feel his displeasure coming off him in waves as his eyes follow you around from table to table.
Thankfully, no one else seems to notice. They’re much too busy drinking, gambling, and attempting to grope you as you walk by to detect anything amiss. Your gaze flicks up briefly, and you catch his eye, and you see the way they narrow as a drunk patron reaches out and grabs your wrist.
You freeze, the touch like ice on your skin. The man yanks you forward, pulling you close enough to speak directly into your ear. "How much?"
You stiffen, and your stomach roils.
"Sorry," you mutter, pulling your wrist free. "Not for sale."
You don't wait for his response. Instead, you turn on your heel and walk away as quickly as you can without breaking into a run.
Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you duck around a corner, pressing yourself against the wall as you take a few breaths, trying to calm yourself. It's embarrassing, really, how rattled you are by such a simple gesture. It's only a stupid drunk patron, and yet here you are, hiding in the shadows and struggling to pull yourself together.
You curse under your breath. You’ve done this a hundred times, and you aren’t some wide-eyed child. There's no reason to let the encounter affect you so deeply.
Except, it's the first time you've been back in a place like this since you left.
You shake your head, taking a deep breath and forcing your hands to unclench.
Get a grip, you tell yourself.
A hand settles on your shoulder, and you flinch, your hands flying up in front of you.
“Easy, sweetie," a vibrant pink Twi'Lek murmurs.
You lower your hands, giving the woman a shaky smile. "Sorry, Isa."
"I get it." Isa shrugs, the motion jostling the crystalline beads dripping down her bodysuit. Isa pulls off the look far better than you could ever hope to, and she's got an ease about her that comes from years of experience. It’s no surprise she’s the longest-standing employee here and the most well tipped.
"I don't blame you for being skittish,” she says, retracting her hand. She makes a disgusted noise in her throat. “These people are all sleemos. You want something stronger to drink before the show?"
You shake your head. As much as you'd love one, you're going to need a clear head to make it out of this alive. "Thanks, though," you say.
"Alright, just let me know if you change your mind. You're gonna do great, kid. Just stick to the choreography, and you'll be fine."
You nod, stomach in knots. Isa breezes by and steps on stage as the crowd hollers and cat-calls, the music beginning. You watch as she performs her opening routine, her movements hypnotic and graceful. She's a beautiful woman, and you can see why the patrons are so drawn to her.
"Hey," Hunter's voice is in your ear, his tone soft. You shiver at the sound. "You okay?"
"Yeah," you reply, the lie tasting bitter on your tongue. "Just a little nervous, is all."
He's silent for a moment, and you picture him frowning. You know he's probably not happy that you're doing this, but there's nothing he can do about it. Not now, anyway.
"Are you sure?"
"I'm fine, Hunter."
"You can always abort the mission," he says, and your stomach sinks.
"I'm fine," you say, and you can't keep the edge from your voice. "Don't worry about me."
You make your way behind the stage, palms sweaty and pulse pounding. As you wait for the cue, the music changes and spotlights hit the stage, bathing it in bright light. You watch Isa dance gracefully and feel a twinge of envy. You used to be like her, graceful and seductive.
You take a deep breath and blow it out slowly, steeling yourself. You can do this. All you need to do is play your part and keep your head on straight. The target is the only one that matters.
It doesn't take long for Isa to step off stage, smiling and waving to the crowd before passing you with an encouraging grin.
The announcer calls out your name, and you step onto the stage.
Hunter has been a soldier for years, and he's seen a lot of things that would make most people recoil in disgust or horror. He's been shot at, stabbed, nearly blown up on more than one occasion, and that was all before he and his brothers started working for Cid.
But nothing has ever shaken him the way watching you perform does.
His mouth goes dry, and his jaw drops. He's thankful the cantina is so dim, because he knows he's staring, but he can't help himself.
You're beautiful, your hair swept up, the pale blue light casting a glow over you. And the way your hips move, and your back arches, and your lips curve into a teasing smile, make his blood heat and his heart pound. His eyes follow you as you move, your body twisting and undulating to the music. It's a sensual display, and one that he knows is part of the act, but your movements seem to reach out to him, pulling him in.
Your hips roll, and your fingers slide down your thighs, the sheer fabric of your dress clinging to your body, and the light from the stage highlights the curve of your hips, the swell of your breasts. Your movements are graceful, and it's clear that you're no stranger to performing, and yet, there's an edge to them. An intensity. A hint of danger.
The way you're moving, the way you're looking at the crowd, the way you're teasing the audience... It's like watching a predator stalking its prey, and he finds himself transfixed, his body reacting to your every move.
The crowd is eating out of the palm of your hand, and Hunter is right along with them, transfixed by you.
As if sensing his thoughts, you glance at him, a wicked smile curving your lips. It's a look that makes his pulse race and his imagination run wild. He can almost imagine you whispering in his ear, telling him to meet you after the show. He can see you taking his hand, leading him to your room and letting him explore every inch of your body. He can picture what it would feel like to touch you, to taste you, to bury himself inside you.
Your gaze lingers for a moment longer before you turn away, the music growing louder. When you spin around and bend over, giving him a full view of your backside, he knows it's intentional.
You're teasing him, and he can't say that he minds.
Your hips sway and gyrate, your hands traveling over your body. He knows he should look away, should give you the respect and privacy that you deserve, but he can't.
He wants you.
The thought hits him like a freight train, and he feels the blood rush to his groin. His breath catches, and he licks his lips, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. It's a thought he's had before, but it's never been this powerful. It's more than desire, more than a passing fancy. It's a burning need that he can't deny. He's never wanted someone the way he wants you, and the realization leaves him reeling.
He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down and focus on the clientele. He can hear the wolf whistles and cat calls, and it makes his skin crawl. But as much as he wants to go up on stage and put an end to this, he knows he can't. Not yet, at least.
Instead, he does what he does best and watches the room, observing. Most of the audience is made up of humans, a few Twi'leks, and a smattering of other species. There are a couple of Hutts, their massive bulk taking up two tables, and several other creatures in the dark corners of the cantina. Hunter has a feeling they're the reason for the high number of bouncers posted at the doors.
This is the sort of place that draws the dregs of the galaxy, he thinks, just as his eyes catch sight of a pale horned head at the bar. His back is to him, but he doesn't need to see his face to know that it's your man.
Hunter tenses, and his fingers twitch.
There you are.
As you dance, you can hear the crowd cheering, and you let the music carry you. You’ve spent many nights in places like this, and you can read a crowd. You know what the patrons want to see, and you can give it to them. You just hope you were attracting the right attention.
When the song ends, you give a little bow and blow a kiss at the crowd, the smile plastered on your face feeling more natural than it did a moment ago. The applause and cheers follow you as you turn to leave the stage, and your legs feel like jelly as you walk, your breath coming hard.
“I have eyes on the target. Zabrak at the bar in the blue vest," Hunter rasps in your ear.
You glance out of the corner of your eye toward the bar. A Zabrak you saw earlier was wearing a blue vest, and sure enough, there he was. He’s in conversation with the droid bartender, which gives you the opportunity to examine him further. You spot his hip pack — likely where he’s storing Cid's crystal — and smile. It’s almost too easy.
The target turns suddenly and catches you looking at him. You mask your surprise with a flirtatious wink, and his expression immediately dissolves into one of interest. He takes his drink from the bartender and lifts it in your direction before taking a sip.
Over the rim of the glass, you can see the darkness of his gaze, and a plan immediately begins to form in your mind. It's not the one you'd intended to follow, but it will work just as well.
“I’m engaging,” you mutter quietly to yourself.
"What? No!" Hunter hisses in your ear.
"Hunter, trust me," you insist. "This is what I do. Let me do my job."
"Your job?" he snaps, his voice rough.
"Yes," you reply sharply, your irritation rising. “I can get the crystal without you having to lift a finger. Just keep your head down and let me do my thing."
"I don’t like this."
"Trust me."
Hunter is silent, and you can practically feel his disapproval.
Fine. Let him be upset. You can handle yourself.
You take a deep breath, your eyes still locked with the Zabrak. He’s decently attractive, with strong features and an impressive physique. Not the worst mark you'd ever had, that's for sure. You can do this.
You give him a coy smile, turning and making your way down the stairs and over to the bar. Your hips sway as you walk, and you put a little extra swing in your step. He keeps his eyes on you as you approach, and the closer you get, the more you can see the clear lust in them. Cid mentioned he had a thing for human women during the briefing, but this was something else.
"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" he says, his voice a low rumble.
You smile and lean against the bar, your fingers tracing patterns on the worn surface. "I was hoping you’d say that."
"Why's that?"
"Because you seem like the kind of man who could show a girl a good time." Yuck.
"Is that right?" he asks, leaning closer. His hand brushes against your hip, and his breath tickles your neck. "And what makes you say that?"
"Call it a hunch," you say, smiling coyly.
"You have good instincts."
"I have a few," you say, your gaze flicking to the pack at his waist. You lean forward, your hand cupping his cheek. “Is this seat taken?”
The Zabrak smiles, revealing yellowed teeth and sharp canines as his eyes rake over you. He sets his drink down on the bar and turns toward you to pat his lap with a clawed hand.
Pushing down the shudder threatening to creep up your spine, you slide onto his legs. Your arms wrap around his neck so your fingers can caress the back of his bare skull. The leathery texture of his skin feels wrong, but the claws on your hips are much worse.
His fingers squeeze your flesh, and you fight the urge to flinch. You hate this. Hate being this close to someone, hate the way their hands roam your body. It's too familiar, too dangerous. You can feel your heart beating wildly in your chest, and your skin crawls. But this is the only way to get what you need.
"I'm Vesh," he tells you, his voice deep and gravelly.
You respond with your name, your voice a whisper.
Vesh repeats it, and his fingers flex on your skin. "It's a pleasure."
"Mmm," you murmur, your hand trailing down his chest.
“Haven’t seen you around here before,” he says as you swing your legs around to dangle off the side of his own.
“Can I tell you a secret?” you ask, batting your eyelashes. At his nod, you lean in closer, nose nearly brushing his ear. “It’s my first day.”
He draws back and grasps your chin with a clawed thumb and forefinger. You resist the urge to jerk your head away as he brings your face close to his.
"Is that right?" he asks, his breath hot on your skin.
"Mmhmm," you nod, your fingers curling into his vest. “You’ll tell me if I’m doing a bad job, won’t you?”
"Don't worry, sweetheart," he growls, his hand sliding up your thigh, "I'll make sure you're nice and thoroughly trained."
The innuendo is glaringly obvious, and the implication is clear. You can't help but wonder if he thinks he's being charming. He's not.
You force yourself not to recoil from his touch. Instead, you lean in, pressing your body against his. "I hope so."
You hum, running your hands over his chest, the muscles beneath your palms tense and firm. Your gaze drops to his hip pack. It would be so easy to snatch the crystal and run, but the last thing you need is to alert him or the guards. Instead, you allow him to tilt your head, your body pliant in his grasp.
As he leans down to kiss your neck, you can hear a noise that sounds suspiciously like a growl over the comlink.
“I’m coming over," Hunter rasps.
“Don’t!” you blurt out. Vesh makes to withdraw, and you quickly hold onto his neck to keep him in place. “Um, don’t stop. You’re so good at that.”
He needs little encouragement from there. With dry lips, he mouths at your neck and chest, hands moving to caress your waist and thighs. You give sighs in all the right places, leaning into his touch, all the while feeling a pair of eyes burning into you from across the room.
It's an easy plan. One you've pulled off more times than you can count. Seduce the target, steal the goods, and run.
What you didn't anticipate was your reaction to Hunter's presence. The way his gaze is practically boring into you, his displeasure rolling off him in waves. Or the possessive noise that escapes him when Vesh touches you. It's thrilling and terrifying all at once.
It's been a long time since someone has felt so protective of you, and while it's unnecessary, there's a part of you that likes it. It's a heady feeling, knowing that someone cares enough about you to get angry on your behalf.
Your thoughts are interrupted when you feel Vesh's hand slip under your dress. You tense, your thighs clenching around his leg. He growls in your ear, low and throaty, and his hips buck up, grinding against you. His claws rake across your skin, leaving burning trails behind.
It takes every ounce of your willpower not to pull away and run. Instead, you force yourself to stay put and focus on the task at hand.
Vesh's free hand reaches up to cup your breast, and your breath hitches.
"So eager," he murmurs, his voice thick and heavy with lust.
"I can't wait," you purr, your eyes sliding over his shoulder to meet Hunter's. His gaze is molten, and his jaw is set, a muscle ticking in his cheek. You force yourself to turn back to Vesh, a smile on your lips. "Why don't we take this somewhere private?"
"I like the way you think." He grins and nearly shoves you off his lap as he moves to stand.
Vesh leads you forward with a hand on your lower back towards the staircase leading to the private rooms. You glance over your shoulder in the hopes of meeting Hunter's eyes, but he's nowhere to be found. Kriff. You wanted to do this alone, and now here you are. Alone.
Once you reach the top of the stairs, the target takes you by the hand and leads you down the hallway. It's empty, and you can feel your stomach sinking with every step you take. You try your best not to drag your feet, but the hot breath on your neck and the hand pressed against you is anything but encouraging.
When you arrive at a door at the end of the hall, he crowds you against it, eagerly pressing his hardness to your lower back as he wraps an arm around your stomach. He types in the code, and as soon as the door slides open, he releases you to shove you inside.
The room is a small square with a bed and a single chair. The only other door leads to a refresher, but much more worth noting is the small window embedded deep in the wall behind the bed. It'll require climbing up to reach, but it's large enough for you to slip out and drop to the roof below. Easy.
The door slides shut, casting the room in shadow.
Time to put your skills to use.
"Don't move," Vesh orders. There’s a strange, misplaced sound, like metal clicking, and it takes you a moment too soon to realize.
You turn slowly, and the sight that greets you makes your blood run cold. The barrel of the Vesh’s hand cannon stares you down, his glowering face just behind it.
“I must say, you put on quite the display back there,” he says with a tilt of his head.
You swallow hard, your eyes flicking from the blaster to his face.
"But you just had to go and ruin things, didn't you?" he snarls, taking a step toward you. “You almost had me convinced. But I know what you’re really after.”
You freeze, your eyes widening. You try to keep your expression neutral, but you can feel the panic rising in your chest. Your eyes flick to the door behind him, hoping beyond hope that it hadn’t locked automatically.
"You think I haven’t dealt with thieves before? You're not the first,” he sneers. “Though I will admit, you are the most attractive."
"Well, you got me." You hold your hands up, palms facing outward. "I'm sorry. Now, just let me go, and we can forget this ever happened."
Vesh gives a mirthless laugh. "Oh, I don't think so." He steps closer, his grip on the blaster tightening. "I think you're going to stay right here and do exactly what I tell you."
“Wait—let’s talk. I’m sure we can come to some sort of agreement.”
“How about this: you strip, and I’ll think about not blowing your pretty little head off. How does that sound?"
Your eyes dart from the gun to the door, then back again. Your mind is racing, and you know you need to think fast. If you can get close enough to him, catch him by surprise, you might be able to make it out of here in one piece with your prize.
You bite your lip, considering. If you play your cards right, this could work in your favor.
"Okay, okay. I'll do whatever you want," you say, your voice trembling.
"That's my girl," he growls.
Slowly, you reach up to the straps of your dress, letting them slide down your shoulders. You can feel his eyes on you, drinking in every inch of skin as it’s revealed. You hate the way he looks at you, and the thought that this is for him makes your stomach turn, but you need to buy yourself enough time.
Vesh’s breathing becomes heavy, and he shifts his weight, his grip on the blaster slackening ever so slightly.
"More," he growls, his eyes darting to the exposed swell of your breasts.
You take a step forward, then another, until the barrel of the blaster is pressed against your collarbone. The metal is cold, and the promise of death lingers in the air. But it's enough. It gives you just enough room to maneuver.
You prime yourself to spring forward, your fingers closing around the handle of your knife, but you’re thrown off when the door slides open, bathing the room in the light of the hall.
A gloved hand appears, pushing the blaster aside, and Vesh lets out a surprised grunt. You stumble backwards, your back hitting the wall as you watch Hunter take down the Zabrak. You barely blink, and then the target is flat on his back, his weapon kicked aside and Hunter's foot pressing his windpipe into the floor.
He leans down, and your breath catches.
"Stay down," he growls.
Vesh sputters and coughs, his hands clutching at Hunter's boot. He tries to speak, but Hunter's foot only presses harder.
"What the hell are you doing?" you gasp, your heart hammering in your chest.
"I told you I was coming," he replies, his eyes never leaving the man underneath his boot.
"I had it under control," you insist.
"Like hell you did!"
"What is it with men not thinking I can handle myself?" you demand, throwing your hands up.
"I can't leave you alone for a minute without you nearly getting yourself killed," Hunter snarls, the anger rolling off him in waves. Vesh pushes against his boot, but Hunter's knee presses into his chest, effectively pinning him.
"Get off me!" Vesh spits.
Hunter leans in, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "You’re lucky I don’t kill you."
"What the hell are you even doing here, Hunter?"
"Making sure you don't do something stupid," he shoots back.
"I had everything under control."
"Under control? It looks to me like he was about to have his way with you!"
"That was the plan," you retort.
"Plan?" Hunter's gaze snaps to yours, and his eyes are dark. He looks furious. "You mean you were going to let him—"
"He was about to give me what I want," you cut him off, your temper flaring.
Hunter's expression hardens, and he turns back to the Zabrak, pressing his weight onto the man's throat. Vesh coughs and struggles against the pressure, but Hunter's relentless.
"Hunter, stop," you shout, panic rising in your chest. This is going downhill fast, and if you don't do something, he is going to ruin everything.
"No," Hunter says, his voice tight. "He doesn't get to hurt you."
You move forward, grabbing his shoulder and tugging. He doesn't budge. "Hunter, listen to me."
He opens his mouth to reply, but he hesitates, tilting his head. A second later, you hear heavy footsteps pound up the stairs and down the hall.
"We need to go," he snaps.
"No, wait, we’re so close—"
"Now!" Hunter pulls Vesh up and pushes him against the wall before grabbing your arm and dragging you to the window. He throws the latch, and it swings open.
"Go," he orders, gesturing for you to climb through.
"What about you?"
"I'm right behind you. Go!"
You don't need to be told twice. You scramble up the wall and slide through the window, dropping down onto the roof below. The sound of shouting and running feet comes from behind you, and you spin around to see Hunter climbing out the window.
"Come on," he says, grabbing your arm again and pulling you across the roof.
You run to the edge, and you hesitate. "It's too far," you say, looking down at the narrow street below.
Hunter doesn't seem to hear you. He blows past you, scaling down the wall with ease. You watch him go, jaw slack. Is he really just going to leave you behind?
He reaches the bottom of the alley and turns back, his face illuminated by the glow of the street lamps. "Jump! I’ll catch you.”
“You can’t be serious!" You yell.
"Do you want to get caught or not?" he yells back, his arms spread wide.
You glance back, and your heart leaps into your throat. Vesh’s angry face appears in the window, followed by his hand cannon.
There's no time. You have to go.
Taking a deep breath, you jump.
For a terrifying moment, you feel weightless, suspended in midair. Then, strong arms wrap around you, catching you and pulling you close. You fall back against the wall together, and you bury your face in his neck, your heart pounding.
"See, I told you I'd catch you," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin.
"You're crazy," you mumble.
"And you're reckless."
You lean back and glare at him, and his grip on you tightens. You can't believe he dragged you away from the job like that. He ruined everything.
"What now?"
"Now we get the hell out of here and go home," he says, setting you down on your feet. You immediately pull out of his grasp, ignoring the way his hand lingers on your arm.
"What?" you hiss. "What about the job?"
"Forget the job." His hand moves to grab yours. "We're leaving."
You let out a sigh and let him pull you along. As you run through the streets, your mind races. The night didn’t go the way you planned, but somehow, you made it out. And if you’re honest with yourself, a part of you is relieved. Relieved that you didn’t have to go through with your plan. Relieved that Hunter was there to protect you. But your relief is tinged with frustration. Frustration at yourself for letting your guard down. Frustration at Hunter for being right.
And, more than anything, frustration at the fact that you’re going home empty-handed. Again.
As you run, the sounds of the city fade away behind you, and you can't help but feel like this is only the beginning. Like this is just the start of your troubles. Because the truth is, Hunter’s right. You are reckless. And when it comes to your own safety, you’ll do whatever it takes to get what you want. Even if it means risking your life.
As soon as the two of you are back on the ship, the doors seal, the engine rumbles to life, and the atmosphere around you turns yellow and then black. You let out a breath and lean back in the copilot’s seat, your stomach roiling.
Hunter doesn't look at you.
He didn’t say anything as you entered the cockpit behind him, his jaw tense and his expression blank. When you sat down, he put the ship on autopilot, and then simply stared out the window, his eyes fixed on the stars.
You can't stand it. The tension in the air between you, the unspoken words. It’s suffocating. You've never felt so exposed, so vulnerable, and you hate it.
"Hunter..." you start, not even sure where you're going.
"Don't."
The word is harsh, sharp, and it cuts through you like a knife. Your mouth clamps shut, and you sit back in your seat, your eyes wide.
Hunter's gaze is still fixed on the stars, his expression inscrutable. You can't read him, can't tell what he's thinking. He's closed himself off to you, and it hurts more than you want to admit.
"Hunter, please."
He shakes his head, his fingers tightening on the controls. You can hear them creak under his grip. "You should shower.”
"What?"
"You should shower. Clean yourself up," he repeats, his voice tight.
"No," you snap, your temper flaring. You don't care if he's upset. He doesn't get to treat you like this.
His shoulders tense, and his jaw clenches.
“You smell like him,” he elaborates.
Your blood runs cold. You didn't notice. The adrenaline must have been covering up the scent, but now that he mentions it, you can't help but feel the ghostly touches. Hands and claws and lips on your skin, the scent of booze and cigarra smoke.
You suddenly feel guilty, and it’s not a feeling you're used to. Your hands clench into fists in your lap, and you try not to think about the way his lips felt on your neck, the way his hands felt on your body.
Your mouth opens and closes, the words stuck in your throat.
“We’ll talk when you’re done,” Hunter says, his eyes still not meeting yours.
You sit there for a moment, your hands clenched tightly in your lap, and you can feel the heat building behind your eyes. You know he's right, but it doesn't make it any easier.
“Fine.” You swallow thickly and stand up, your legs trembling slightly. The crystals dangling from your dress ping together with the movement, and you swear you see him flinch at the sound. You don't look back as you head out into the common room.
You grab some clean clothes and your toiletries and head into the refresher. When the door closes, you sigh and lean against it. You can still feel his hands on you, and you want to scrub your skin raw until there's nothing left. You shake your head and push the feeling away. It's not productive. Instead, you strip and step into the shower, allowing the water to wash away the night.
It was far from the first time this has happened to you, but it never gets easier, not entirely. You’re just numb to it. Just another in a long line of unsavory decisions you've had to make in an effort to survive in the galaxy. To feed yourself and keep a roof over your head. To get what you need. But this... this feels different, somehow.
Hunter shouldn’t have seen you that way. He shouldn’t have seen you so desperate, so willing to do whatever it took to get what you wanted. No one should see you that way. But especially not him.
You scrub your skin until it’s red and raw, but it doesn't seem to matter. The shame and frustration inside you continues to build, your fists clenching and unclenching as you replay the scene over and over in your mind.
The way Hunter looked at you, the anger and disgust in his eyes.
It's the same way everyone else looks at you.
You've always been seen as less than. Less than worthy. Less than capable. Less than important. It's not something that's ever bothered you before, but now, in front of him, it does.
It stings.
It shouldn't, but it does.
And you hate it.
You take a deep breath and force yourself to relax, your shoulders slumping. The water cascades down your body, washing away the grime and dirt, the evidence of the night's activities.
It's not a big deal, you tell yourself. Hunter was just trying to help. And maybe you needed the help.
As much as you hate to admit it, he's right. You were reckless. You're used to being on your own. To making your own decisions and dealing with the consequences. Working with a partner — a team — is new. Not bad, necessarily, but definitely new. Hunter made it clear from the start that you're in this together, but clearly he wasn’t ready to see you like this.
It isn't the first time you've used your body to get what you want, and it won't be the last. It's a useful tool, one you've honed to a razor-sharp edge. You can read a room and a target in an instant, and you're always prepared to think on your feet.
Hunter’s seen you at your best — smart, witty, skilled. But now he's seen you at your worst. Vulnerable. Desperate. Pathetic.
And he doesn't like it.
You understand why. You don't like it either.
As soon as you’re clean and dried, you get dressed. You don’t linger in the refresher, don’t even bother to look in the mirror. You just grab your things and leave. You have no desire to spend more time than necessary hiding away.
When you return to the cockpit, Hunter is still there, his eyes fixed on the streaks of light outside. He doesn't turn to look at you, doesn't acknowledge your presence, and the silence between you grows thicker and more oppressive.
"You want to talk," you say at last, breaking the tension. "So let's talk."
"Fine." Hunter stands and pushes past you, stalking through the cockpit toward the common room. You follow, your heart hammering in your chest. You're not sure what to expect, but whatever it is, you know it's not good.
As soon as the two of you are in the common room, Hunter rounds on you, his expression dark.
"You jeopardized the mission."
Whatever you were expecting him to say, it wasn’t that.
"Excuse me?" Your anger flares, and you step closer to him, your chin jutting out. "Need I remind you whose mission this is?"
"And need I remind you that we're a team? We're supposed to work together."
You scoff, shaking your head. You can't believe him. After all that, this is what he's upset about?
"We are working together," you snap.
"Is that what you call it?” Hunter growls. "Because to me, it looked like you doing everything you can to prove you don't need my help."
"I don't!”
"Clearly." His words are heavy with sarcasm, and it makes your skin crawl.
You hate him, hate the way he makes you feel, hate the way he can read you so easily. He's always been able to see through you, and it makes you feel exposed, vulnerable. You can't stand it.
"Look, I don't need you telling me how to do my job."
"I wouldn't have to if you weren't so reckless," he shoots back.
"Reckless?" Your voice rises, your temper getting the better of you. "That's rich coming from you. I'm not the one who charged in there guns blazing and nearly got us both killed."
"But I'm not the one who was going to sell myself to some lowlife for a chunk of rock!”
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"Really?" he snarls. He steps closer, looming over you, his eyes dark with anger. You refuse to be intimidated, but your stomach does an unpleasant flip.
"Yes, really," you snap, holding his gaze. "You have no idea what you're talking about."
"You went off script. We agreed we’d approach the target together and you just went right up to him!” He’s shouting now, and his voice echoes in the small room. "You didn't tell me the plan. You didn't wait for my signal. You just acted without thinking. Just like always."
"I had it handled," you yell back. You jab at his chest plate with a finger, and unsurprisingly, he doesn't budge an inch. If anything, he leans closer.
"Handled? You call getting caught 'handled'?"
"If you hadn't barged in, I would have had him eating out of the palm of my hand," you insist.
"You can't be serious. That man was seconds away from having his way with you!” he shouts. “He was going to use you, and when he was done, he was going to kill you. And I wouldn't have been able to do a damn thing about it."
You scoff and roll your eyes. This is ridiculous.
"So that's what this is about? You're mad because I didn't let you play the hero?"
"Haar'chak, I'm mad because I'm the only one around here who seems to care if you live or die!"
You reel back as if struck. You're not sure if it's the sudden realization of what he said or the fact that he's shouting in your face, but whatever the case, it feels like a punch to the gut.
You open your mouth to retort, but no words come out. Hunter's eyes are dark, his brow furrowed, his mouth set in a tight line. He's breathing hard, his nostrils flaring. You've never seen him like this, so angry and out of control.
"You don't think. That's your problem. You act on impulse and don't think things through. It’s like you don’t care at all about your own safety."
"So what?" you finally manage.
"So what?" Hunter echoes, his voice incredulous. He steps back, his arms gesturing wildly. "So, what if you hadn't been able to seduce the target? What if he had seen through your little game and shot you? What if I hadn't been there to stop him?"
"Well, thank the Maker that you were, isn't that right?"
"This isn't funny!"
"I'm not laughing," you retort, crossing your arms over your chest.
"You're so--" He breaks off, and takes a deep breath. His hand covers his face, and he shakes his head. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and strained. "You act like it doesn't matter, like your life doesn't matter. But it does."
His words take the wind out of your sails. You've never heard him sound so... defeated. Like he's tired of fighting. Like he's given up. It's unnerving.
You're scrambling for something, anything to keep your anger burning. It's the only thing holding you together right now. If it fades, if you let yourself feel the shame and guilt and humiliation, you'll fall apart. And you can't let that happen.
"You don't understand," you mutter, turning away from him.
"You're right, I don't.” He grabs your shoulder, forcing you to face him. His eyes search yours, his brow furrowed. "I don't understand why you're so willing to throw yourself into danger like that. You deserve better than that."
"Better than what?"
"Better than this." He gestures around the ship. “Better than having to use your body as a weapon. Better than letting Cid take advantage of you."
"That's my choice," you snap, pushing his hand away, and it falls back to his side. "This is my life, Hunter. This is what I've had to do to survive. It's not pretty, but it's the only way I've found that works."
"There's a better way," he says, his voice firm.
"Not for me. Not when all I have is this." You gesture to yourself, to your body, and he flinches, his jaw clenching. "I have nothing. I'm nobody."
"You're not nothing," he insists, stepping closer to you. "And you're not just some weapon to be used and thrown away. You're important."
"I'm not."
"You are," he says, his voice low and rough.
"Why does it matter to you?"
"Because I—" He pauses, and his gaze softens, his eyes searching yours. "I care about you. I care about what happens to you."
The words echo in the small space between you, hanging in the air like a bomb ready to go off. Your heart races in your chest, and you take a step back.
"Hunter, I—"
"No, don't." He closes the gap between you, his hands reaching out for yours. "Just, please, just listen. I know I'm probably the last person who should be telling you this, but you need to hear it. You need to know that you're more than just a body to use. You're so much more. You're strong, and capable, and kriff, you're brave. Too brave. But that's not a bad thing. It's just part of who you are. And I..."
His hands are warm on yours, his voice a low rumble. Your stomach twists into knots, and your head spins. Hunter cares about you. He's said the words aloud, and you don't know how to process them.
No one has ever said that to you before. Not like this.
"I know what it's like to be used. To be seen as nothing more than a means to an end. I know what it's like to do things you're not proud of." He pauses, his eyes searching your face. "And I don't want that for you."
Your breath catches in your throat, and your heart aches. You can't believe what you're hearing.
“I’m sorry for yelling." Hunter says, his voice strained.
"It's fine," you mumble.
"It's not. I shouldn't have lost my temper like that. But seeing you like that, with him..." His jaw clenches, and his fingers flex around yours. "I hate it. I hate seeing you like this, using yourself like this. You deserve better, and I'm not just saying that. It's true."
You're not sure how to respond. A part of you is still angry, still hurt, still defensive. But a larger part of you is moved by his words, by the concern in his voice. He means what he's saying, and that's enough to make the knot in your stomach loosen ever so slightly.
You take a deep breath and close your eyes. "You're right. I'm sorry."
"Hey, don't apologize."
"No, I should. You're right. I should have talked to you before I did anything. I should have trusted you."
"It's not that I don't trust you," he says, his hands sliding up your arms. "I do. I trust you with my life. But I care about you too much to watch you get hurt."
"Hunter, I—"
"You don't have to say anything. I know I've probably crossed a line, and I'm sorry. I just had to say it."
"Thank you," you murmur.
You feel him shift, and when you open your eyes, he's close. His arms wrap around you, pulling you against him. He rests his chin on top of your head, his grip tight. It feels good, being held like this, and a sense of peace washes over you. You're not used to feeling safe, but with Hunter, you do. It’s a bit terrifying that he’s come to mean this much to you.
His thumb strokes along your spine, and you lean further into his touch. It's intimate, more than you're used to, but it's nice. More than nice. You've never had anyone hold you like this, care about you like this, and it makes you feel warm all over.
"Say it again," you whisper.
"I'm sorry," Hunter repeats, his tone questioning. You pull back and meet his eyes, and the worry, the hope in his expression is enough to take your breath away.
"No, the other thing," you say.
Realization dawns on him, and a small smile plays across his lips. "I care about you."
This time, when the words are spoken, they don't hurt. They don't sting or burn. They settle over you like a warm blanket, like a comforting embrace.
You smile, and a small laugh escapes you. It's a silly, stupid sound, but you don't care.
"You care about me," you repeat, as if saying the words will make them more real.
"I do," Hunter says.
His hands cup your cheeks, and he tilts your head up, his gaze searching yours as his thumb brushes over your lower lip.
"Is this okay?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
You nod, and then he's kissing you, his lips warm and gentle on yours. You close your eyes, your heart hammering in your chest as you melt against him. His hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, and a soft moan escapes your lips.
Kissing Hunter is unlike anything you've ever experienced before. It's soft and sweet, but there's a hint of hunger, of desperation, like he's been holding himself back. You can't help but smile, and his lips curl into a smirk against yours.
When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, his breath hot on your skin. You feel giddy, drunk on the kiss, and you can't keep the smile from your lips.
"Hunter..." you begin, but you're not sure what else to say.
"I meant it," he says, his voice a low rumble.
Your smile widens, and your hand reaches up to trace along his jaw. His stubble is rough under your fingers, and you can't help but admire the sharp lines of his face.
"I care about you, too,” you whisper.
He smiles, and his arm slides around your waist, pulling you flush against him. Your heart is still racing, and you feel like you're floating, like your body is made of stardust and light.
Hunter's gaze is tender, full of affection, and it's almost too much to bear. He makes you feel like you're the only person in the galaxy, and it's a feeling you've never experienced before. It's overwhelming, but in the best possible way.
"I'm still mad at you," he whispers.
"I know," you say, smiling. "But I'm mad at you, too."
"Fair enough."
He leans down, his lips brushing against yours once more. The kiss is brief, but it sends shivers down your spine, and you can't help but chase after him as he pulls away.
He lets out a muffled noise of surprise as you crash your lips onto his. You kiss him, hard, pouring everything you feel into the moment. His arms wrap around you, holding you close as he kisses you back. His mouth is hot and insistent, and you feel the heat of desire pool in your belly.
You've kissed plenty of people in your life, but never like this. Never with such abandon, such need. Never with such raw passion. You can't get enough of him. You press your body against his, desperate to be closer, and he responds in kind.
It's like a dam has burst, the two of you crashing together in a tangle of lips and teeth and tongues. Hunter guides you back until you’re pushed against the wall, his body caging yours. His hands are everywhere, on your waist, your hips, your breasts. Your fingers dig into his back as your leg lifts to hook around his waist. He takes the hint and grabs it, then the other, lifting you up.
You wrap your legs around his waist, and his hands slide under your thighs, his fingers digging into your skin. He pins you against the wall with his body, and you can't help but moan at the contact. You're already aching for him, and the feeling of his codpiece pressing against your core isn't helping.
When his lips finally leave yours, you're gasping for air, your body trembling with need. Hunter's eyes are dark and wild, his lips swollen from the kisses. You've never seen him look so undone, and the thought that you did this, that you're the one responsible for the desire burning in his gaze, makes you dizzy with lust.
He looks at you, his gaze raking over your body, and he swallows hard. His voice is low and husky when he speaks.
"I can't believe I almost lost you," he says, his breath warm against your skin. "If anything happened to you..."
"It didn’t," you whisper. You reach out and gently trace the outline of his tattoo. "I'm here. I'm safe."
"You scared the hell out of me.” His eyes meet yours, and the intensity of his gaze makes your heart skip a beat. "Don't ever do that again."
You bite your lip, and a sly smile spreads across your face.
"What?" Hunter asks, his eyebrow quirking.
"It's just..." You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. "You're kind of a hypocrite."
"Excuse me?"
"Well, I'm not the only one who does reckless, stupid things." You tilt your head and smile at him.
His brow furrows, and then realization dawns on him. He chuckles, and a sheepish smile tugs at his lips.
"You may have a point," he admits, and you laugh.
You lean in, your nose brushing against his. His eyes flutter closed, and he leans into the touch, his lips brushing against yours. It's gentle and sweet, a stark contrast to the way his body is pressed against yours, and you can't help but sigh softly.
"What a pair we make, " you murmur.
"That we do," he agrees. His eyes open, and he pulls back slightly. His gaze is intense, his pupils blown wide. His hands are still on your thighs, and you can feel his thumbs moving in small circles on your skin. It's a tiny gesture, but it makes your heart race, and a shiver runs through your body.
The tension between the two of you is almost palpable, and you can't stop staring at his lips, at the way they're slightly parted, like he's waiting for permission.
You don't hesitate.
You kiss him, hard. His lips are warm and soft against yours, and you feel him smile. You can't help but smile too, a laugh bubbling up in your throat.
The kiss grows deeper, and Hunter's tongue slips past your lips. His hands move from your thighs to your waist, pulling you closer. You're completely pinned against the wall, his body flush with yours, and your hips cant against his, desperate for some kind of friction.
He lets out a low groan, his teeth sinking into your bottom lip. You gasp, and his grip tightens, his fingers digging into your skin. He trails his lips down your jaw, and his teeth graze over your neck, his tongue lapping at the sensitive skin.
"Hunter," you gasp, your head falling back against the wall. He lets out a groan and grinds his hips against yours, his codpiece rubbing against your clit as his hands slip under your shirt.
The feeling is electric, and you can't help but buck against him, desperate for more. He responds in kind, his body rocking against yours, his mouth hot on your skin. Your fingers bury themselves in his hair, pulling him closer, and his lips trail up to your ear, his breath hot and heavy.
"Do you want me to stop?" he murmurs.
"Stars, no."
Hunter laughs, and his lips find yours once more. You can't help but moan, the kiss sending sparks through your body. His hands slide up your sides, his thumbs brushing over the curve of your breasts. You arch into his touch, and his fingers deftly unhook your bra.
He pulls away just enough to lift your shirt, and you let your bra fall off your shoulders, your hands reaching up to help him take it off. You're left completely bare from the waist up, and his gaze is hungry, his eyes roving over your exposed skin.
He doesn't give you a chance to feel self-conscious. His hands are on your breasts, kneading and squeezing, his thumbs rolling over your nipples. The sensation is incredible, and you gasp, your head falling back against the wall. His head ducks down, his tongue trailing over your skin. When his mouth closes around one of your nipples, you nearly lose it, a moan tearing from your throat.
Your fingers bury themselves in his hair, and you can't stop yourself from grinding against him, the pleasure building inside you. His teeth graze over your nipple, and his hands slide down your stomach, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your pants.
"Please," you whimper, the word slipping past your lips before you can stop it.
He lets out a low, satisfied hum and kisses his way across your chest, his mouth hot on your skin. One hand cups the back of his neck, pulling him closer, while the other grabs his wrist, urging him lower.
Hunter doesn't disappoint. His fingers dip beneath the waistband of your pants and underwear, and then he's stroking you, his fingers sliding easily through your slick folds. You let out a choked moan, your hips bucking against his hand, and he smiles against your skin, his teeth grazing over your nipple.
“Never thought I'd hear you beg," he murmurs.
Your cheeks flush, but before you can respond, his thumb presses against your clit, and your mouth falls open in a silent moan. His touch is electric, and your hips rock against his hand, desperate for more.
Hunter chuckles, his breath hot against your skin, and then he’s pulling away, his fingers slipping out of you.
You nearly whine, the loss of contact making you ache, but then he's dropping to his knees in front of you, and you can't think of anything else. His hands find the waistband of your pants and underwear, and he slowly, tantalizingly, drags them down your legs. You step out of them, and he tosses them aside, his gaze raking over your naked form.
"Beautiful," he murmurs, his hands sliding up the backs of your legs.
He doesn't give you a chance to respond. He hikes a leg over his shoulder and presses a kiss to your inner thigh. Your fingers tighten in his hair, and a low, needy sound escapes your throat.
"Hunter..."
He doesn't need any more encouragement. He moves in, his tongue licking a hot, wet stripe over your folds. Your hips jerk, and he lets out an obscene groan, his hands sliding up to grip your ass. He pulls you closer, his tongue circling your clit before flicking over it.
"So good," he rasps against you, and the sound goes straight to your core.
You can't help but moan, the pleasure building inside you, his mouth hot and wet and insistent. Your hips roll against his face, and his fingers dig into your skin, his breath coming in ragged pants.
He devours you, his tongue delving inside you before returning to your clit. He alternates between teasing licks and hungry sucks, his pace relentless, his desire to make you come clear in his every movement.
The way his mouth moves over you, the way his tongue works you over, it's unlike anything you've ever experienced before. He's focused, his eyes closed, his lips and tongue working tirelessly. He's clearly enjoying himself, and it shows.
You've never had anyone eat you out with such enthusiasm. With such need.
His fingers spread you open, and his tongue plunges deeper, his nose rubbing against your clit. It's almost too much, and you can't hold back the moans spilling from your lips. His mouth is perfect, and the pressure is building, the pleasure mounting. You're so close, so kriffing close.
Then, his eyes open, his gaze locking onto yours.
And he doesn't look away.
He holds your gaze as his mouth works you over, as his tongue swirls and flicks and teases. His eyes are dark, his pupils blown wide, and there's a hunger in them that takes your breath away. Hunter's always been intense, but this is different. This is a whole new level, and it's enough to send you hurtling over the edge.
You come, hard. Your eyes squeeze shut, and you let out a cry, your orgasm ripping through you as you double over, your fingers gripping his hair for dear life. He doesn't stop, his tongue licking up every last drop of your release. Your hips buck against his face, and he groans, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body.
It's a long moment before you come down, and even then, you're trembling, your body flushed and spent. You can barely stand, your legs weak, but Hunter's arms are there, supporting you. He presses a kiss to your thigh, and you let out a shaky breath.
When you finally manage to open your eyes, Hunter's still kneeling in front of you, a satisfied smirk on his face.
"Enjoy yourself?" he asks, his voice low and husky.
"Maker, yes," you say, laughing. You shake your head and run a hand through your hair, your mind reeling. “You’ve been holding out on me, Sergeant."
Hunter stands and takes your face in his hands, his gaze searching yours. There's a heat in his eyes, a desire that makes your breath catch in your throat. His thumb brushes over your lips, and he leans in, his mouth ghosting over yours.
“Want more?” he whispers.
"Please."
The word is barely out of your mouth before his lips are on yours, his kiss hot and hungry. He pushes you back, and you let him guide you, his mouth never leaving yours. He steers you until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bunk, and you stumble backwards, landing on the bed with a small yelp.
Hunter doesn't waste any time. His hands move to the latches of his chest plate, and he quickly removes it, letting it clatter to the floor. The sound of it hitting the ground echoes through the ship, and a jolt of anticipation runs through you.
You're really doing this.
You're really going to have sex with Hunter.
As he steps out of his boots, the realization hits you like a ton of bricks, and your stomach does a little flip.
You've been dancing around this, whatever this is, for weeks. Months, even. You've wanted him, wanted this, and now, you're finally going to have it.
It's exhilarating and terrifying, and you can't wait.
Your hands reach out for him, and you undo the belt at his waist. It falls to the floor, and he lets out a soft chuckle, his hands finding yours. He lifts them up, and places a gentle kiss on each of your knuckles, his gaze meeting yours.
The gesture is sweet, tender, and it takes your breath away. Your heart skips a beat, and you can't help but smile, a fluttering feeling filling your chest.
This man, this soldier, who's seen and done so much, and still manages to be kind and caring.
Who makes you feel safe.
Who makes you feel cared for.
You can't believe your luck.
"Hunter," you murmur, unable to look away from him.
He pauses, his eyes searching yours.
"What is it?"
"I..." You trail off, not sure how to express what you're feeling. It's all too much, and the words don't seem enough.
He lets go of your hands and cups your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek.
"It's okay," he says. “We don’t have to do anything you're not ready for."
You laugh, a small, breathless sound. "No, that's not it. I want this. I want you."
His eyes widen, and he swallows hard. For a moment, he doesn't move, doesn't speak. Then, a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips, and he lets out a small laugh, shaking his head.
"Force, the things you do to me," he murmurs, his thumb running along your bottom lip.
You can't help but smile.
Then, his lips are on yours, and the rest of the world fades away.
It's not a gentle kiss. It's raw and desperate, a primal need driving the two of you. His hands are everywhere, and yours are, too. You can't get enough of him.
Your hands tug at the fastenings of his blacks, and he pulls away just long enough to shed them along with his briefs, leaving him naked before you.
Hunter’s skin is hot beneath your fingertips, his muscles taut and defined. You can't help but admire him, his broad shoulders and trim waist, the dark tattoos that cover one side of his body, the scars that mar his skin. He's a sight to behold, and a small sigh escapes your lips.
"See something you like?" he asks, a playful tone in his voice.
Your eyes dip lower, following the trail of hair down his stomach, and a smirk tugs at the corners of your lips. His cock is already hard and straining, the tip glistening with precum. You bite your lip, and when you glance back up, you catch him watching you.
A blush rises to his cheeks, and he gives you a sheepish grin.
"Like I said, the things you do to me," he repeats.
You laugh, and reach up, pulling him in for another kiss. You let yourself fall back, and he follows, his body covering yours.
His skin is soft and warm, his muscles firm under your touch. You let your hands roam, sliding over his shoulders, his back, his ass, anywhere you can reach as he pins you underneath him.
He shudders under your touch, his hips rolling against yours, and a groan escapes his lips. The feeling of his cock sliding against your clit, even with him between your legs, is enough to send a shiver through your body. You can't help but arch up into him, and he lets out a soft grunt, his breath hot on your neck.
“Kriff, you're killing me," he murmurs.
You laugh, and nip at his neck. He gasps, his hips jerking against yours, and you can't help but revel in the feeling.
Hunter is usually so in control, so disciplined, but you can see that control slipping, his restraint crumbling. It's a powerful feeling, knowing that you're the one who's making him lose his mind, and a sense of pride washes over you.
You slide a hand between your bodies, wrapping your fingers around his cock, and he lets out a choked moan, his body tensing above you. Your thumb teases the sensitive tip, spreading the precum around, and he drops his head to your shoulder, his breathing ragged as his eyes squeeze shut.
"Fuck, that feels good," he groans.
"Yeah?" you ask, giving him a squeeze.
"Yes," he breathes, his hips rocking into your touch.
"I bet you'd feel better inside me," you murmur.
"Fuck, I bet you're right."
His mouth finds yours, and he kisses you, deep and hard, his tongue exploring yours. You stroke his cock, slowly, and he lets out a muffled moan, his hips thrusting against you.
His hands slide down your body, grabbing your thighs and pushing them apart. The movement is rough and sudden, and a small gasp escapes your lips as he holds you open. Your hand falls away from his cock, and he takes the opportunity to settle between your legs, his body pinning you against the bed.
He rests his forehead against yours, his breathing heavy, his eyes locked onto yours. The weight of his body, the heat of his skin, the tension between you is almost too much, and your heart hammers in your chest.
He reaches down, taking himself in his hand, and rubs the head of his cock against your clit. The sensation is incredible, and a choked moan falls from your lips.
He gives a small, teasing thrust, the tip just barely entering you, and a shudder runs through your body. You want him so badly, and he's barely giving you anything.
You let out a frustrated huff, and Hunter smirks.
"Ask nicely," he murmurs.
You swallow, the heat building between you, and your mind is reeling. You’re too far gone to worry about your pride, and if that's what he wants, then that's what you'll give him.
"Please, Hunter," you breathe, and he lets out a low groan.
Then, finally, he pushes inside you.
It's slow, agonizingly so. His tip pushes past the tight ring of muscle, and then he's stretching you, inch by glorious inch, the feeling of his cock filling you stealing the breath from your lungs. The way he’s holding you open, the angle he's at, it's all perfect, and it's all for you.
He doesn't stop until he's fully sheathed inside you, and even then, he waits, his cock pulsing against your walls, giving you a moment to adjust. The teasing look in his eye is gone, replaced by a heated desire. He watches you, his gaze roving over your body, drinking in every detail.
The feeling is almost overwhelming, being stretched so completely, and you let out a shaky breath.
"How does it feel?" he asks, his voice strained.
"Good, really good."
He smiles, and gives a small, experimental thrust. You both gasp, the pleasure of the movement making your toes curl. He does it again, and again, each thrust deeper and harder than the last. You cling to him, your nails digging into his back, and his eyes close, a low groan rumbling in his chest.
"Don't," he grunts. "I'm barely hanging on as it is."
"Don't what?"
“If you keep that up, I'm not going to last."
The words send a jolt through you, and a wicked idea crosses your mind. You rake your nails down his back, and he groans, his cock twitching inside you.
He grabs your wrists and pins them above your head, his grip firm. You can't help but laugh, a smirk tugging at your lips.
"That's not playing fair," he chides.
"What, you can't handle a little teasing?"
He laughs, and shakes his head, his eyes locked onto yours. Then, he starts moving, his hips rolling into you, his cock sliding in and out of your dripping cunt.
The rhythm he sets is steady, but deep. Each thrust is deliberate, calculated, and the way his cock fills you, the way he stretches and rubs against your walls, it's enough to make you forget everything but him.
"Is this what you wanted?" he asks, his voice a low rumble.
"Yes," you gasp.
"What else do you want?"
"I—"
You're not sure how to answer. You're not used to someone asking you what you want, what you like.
"Tell me," he says, and his fingers lace together with yours, pressing your hands against the bed.
The intimacy of the gesture sends a rush through your body, and your walls clench around his cock. He lets out a surprised noise, his eyes fluttering shut.
When he opens them again, his gaze is intense, a hunger burning in his eyes. He looks at you, really looks at you, and you feel a thrill run through your body.
You take a deep breath, and try to focus, to collect your thoughts.
It's not easy.
He's not making it easy.
You think back to all the times the two of you have been together, all the times you've teased each other, all the moments where the tension between the two of you has threatened to boil over.
There's a question you've always wanted to ask him, a fantasy you've had ever since you first met him.
And now, it seems like the right time to ask.
"I want...I want to know what it feels like to have you come inside me."
He goes still, his cock throbbing inside you, and a shiver runs through his body.
His eyes widen, and he stares at you, his mouth slightly agape. For a moment, neither of you say anything. You hold his gaze, and your cheeks flush, the confession hanging in the air.
Finally, he lets out a strangled groan, and his head drops to your shoulder.
"That's..." He trails off, his voice rough.
"Is that not—"
"No, that's..." He groans, and his hips buck against yours, his cock pulsing.
You let out a breathless laugh.
You never would have thought Hunter could be flustered. But here he is, the man who can stare death in the face without flinching, and the mere thought of coming inside you has him practically vibrating.
"I've never done that," he confesses, and his voice is barely a whisper.
The confession is surprising, but it's not entirely unexpected. Hunter's life hasn't exactly given him a lot of opportunities to indulge in pleasure.
"Do you want to?" you ask.
"Yes." He lets out a low growl and presses a kiss to your shoulder. "But only if you're okay with it."
"I'm more than okay with it," you say, smiling. "I want to feel it."
"Maker, you're going to kill me," he murmurs.
His voice is a low rumble, and a shudder runs through you. The desire in his words is undeniable, and the thought of him giving into it, letting go, makes you dizzy with lust.
He shifts, releasing your hands, and his own move down to your hips. He pulls out of you, and you can't help but let out a disappointed whine, but before you can protest, he flips you over, pressing your chest against the mattress as he guides your knees beneath you.
He moves behind you, his hands running up your thighs, over the curve of your ass, and a moan escapes your lips. Your cheek is pressed against the sheets, and the vulnerability of the position sends a shiver down your spine.
You feel his fingers part your folds, his thumb brushing over your clit. His other hand slides down your back, and then his cock is pushing back inside you, filling you completely. The position allows him to go deeper, and you feel him hit the furthest point inside you, a choked moan escaping your throat as a flood of heat washes over your body.
He leans forward, his chest pressing against your back, and his hands come up to rest on either side of your head. He's practically bent over you, his hips rolling against yours, and the feeling of his weight bearing down on you, the sensation of his skin warm against yours, it's enough to drive you crazy.
You can't believe this is happening, that the two of you are finally here, after all the teasing, all the flirting, all the stolen glances and secret smiles. You feel his lips on your neck, his breath hot and ragged, and a low moan slips past your lips.
You're not sure how long you can last like this, his cock buried inside you, his body pressed against yours, his hands pinning you in place. And judging by the way his hips are thrusting, his pace growing erratic, he's not going to last much longer either.
The thought sends a jolt through your body, and you push back against him, eager to meet his thrusts. He lets out a choked sound, his fingers digging into the sheets, and his breath is hot against your neck.
"Stars, that feels good," he pants, and his voice is strained. “I’m getting close."
The words send a rush through your body, and you can't help but clench around his cock. The feeling makes him groan, and his hands leave the bed, wrapping around your body. One grips your hip, his fingers digging into your skin, while the other finds your clit, circling the sensitive bud with his thumb.
"I'm going to make a mess of you," he murmurs, and his voice is low and rough, the promise in his words sending a shiver down your spine.
The image flashes through your mind, of Hunter's cum leaking out of you, staining the sheets, and a surge of heat washes over your body, making your toes curl.
"Do it," you breathe, and he groans and pinches your clit, making you gasp.
"I will," he says, his voice a low rumble, and you feel his mouth trail up the back of your neck. His lips find your ear, and his breath is hot against your skin as he speaks. “I want to feel you come, and then I'm going to fill you up. Do you want that, cyar’ika?"
The words are practically a growl, and the raw need in his voice sends a shiver through your body. You can't take much more. Between his words and his cock, you're about to lose it, and his thrusts are becoming desperate, his movements frantic.
“Please,” you whimper, and that's all he needs to hear.
His thumb presses hard against your clit, and his hips snap forward, his cock burying itself inside you. The pleasure is intense, and a cry falls from your lips, your eyes squeezing shut as the orgasm tears through you.
He doesn't stop. He keeps thrusting, his rhythm fast and uneven, his breath coming in ragged gasps as your walls flutter around him. You're overwhelmed, your senses overloaded, and you can't help but buck against him, riding the waves of pleasure coursing through you.
"Fuck, that's it," he moans, and his fingers tighten on your hip.
His pace is punishing, and the pressure builds, his cock slamming into you with each thrust. He's lost himself in you, and you love it, the knowledge that you're the one bringing him this pleasure.
You feel his cock twitch inside you, and he lets out a broken moan, his hips stuttering. And then, he's coming, burying himself as deep inside you as he can get as his cock pulses. The feeling of his cum spilling inside you, the wet, warm heat of it, sends a shockwave through your body, and another wave of pleasure washes over you.
It's the most intimate, the most erotic thing you've ever felt.
Hunter shudders against you, his body shaking as he gasps, his breath coming in short, harsh bursts. His hips jerk, and his grip on you tightens, his fingers digging into your skin, holding you still as he empties himself inside you.
The two of you stay like that for a moment, neither of you speaking. The only sound is the ragged breathing coming from both of you. It takes a few minutes for the haze of pleasure to clear, and when it does, he slowly pulls out of you.
He collapses on the bed beside you, and you roll onto your back, looking up at the bottom of the bunk above you.
You're completely spent, the adrenaline and pleasure leaving your body. You glance out of the corner of your eye and smirk.
Hunter is staring at the ceiling, his chest rising and falling with each breath, his eyes wide.
"You alright, Sergeant?" you tease.
He lets out a huff and turns to look at you, a small smile tugging at his lips.
“Give me a minute," he says, and lets out a laugh, shaking his head.
He's beautiful like this, relaxed and carefree, his hair a mess, his face flushed. It's a far cry from his usual serious demeanor, and the sight sends a wave of affection through you. You want to reach out and touch him, but you're not sure if that’s what he wants. You’ve never really done this, never had the opportunity to have someone stay afterwards.
You're not sure what the protocol is, or if there even is a protocol. Do you cuddle? Do you make small talk? What if he's expecting you to leave?
“C’mere.”
Hunter pulls you against him, his arm wrapping around you, and your worries fade away. You snuggle closer, resting your head on his chest and throwing your leg over his. His body is warm, and his heartbeat is strong and steady, a comforting rhythm against your ear.
Your eyes flutter closed, and for a long moment, the two of you simply lay there, content to enjoy each other's company. His hand trails lazily over your arm, and you feel him press a kiss to the top of your head.
A small, satisfied sigh escapes your lips.
You didn’t expect this to happen, but stars, are you glad it did.
The thought crosses your mind that maybe you should have some regrets, maybe you should have second thoughts. But you can't find it in yourself to care. There is a question on your mind, though, and it’s one you can’t help but ask.
"What does cyar’ika mean?" you ask, your hand tracing the outline of his tattoo.
Hunter tenses, his body going rigid beneath you. You immediately regret asking, and you start to pull away, but his grip tightens, holding you in place.
“Did I say that?” he asks, his voice quiet.
You nod, not trusting yourself to speak.
He's silent, his fingers absently tracing the outline of your shoulder. You're afraid he's not going to answer, but then he sighs. “It means sweetheart. Darling. Something like that."
Your heart skips a beat.
"Oh," you manage, and your cheeks flush.
"Sorry, it's...it just slipped out. I wasn't thinking." He shifts, pulling back just enough to look at you, and he looks almost nervous. “You don’t mind, do you?”
"Mind?” You blink, and shake your head. A smile tugs at your lips, and you let out a small, surprised laugh. "No, I don't mind."
His brow furrows, and he stares at you, his eyes searching yours.
“It's just...no one ever called me anything like that before,” you say, a little embarrassed.
A surprised expression crosses his face, and then his expression softens. He cups your face in his hand, his thumb brushing over your cheek.
"They should have,” he murmurs.
It's such a simple, earnest statement, and the emotion in his voice makes your chest tighten. You look away, suddenly overwhelmed, and a shaky laugh slips past your lips.
“I’m nothing special, Hunter. Not really."
He lets out a small scoff, and the hand on your cheek guides your face back to his, his gaze locking onto yours.
“You are to me."
There's no hesitation in his voice, no uncertainty. The words are spoken with a quiet conviction, and the weight of them settles around you, a warmth blooming in your chest and flushing your cheeks. Your heart flutters, and you swallow, suddenly at a loss for words.
"You're cute when you're flustered," he murmurs, his tone teasing. “I didn’t think it was possible for you to be shy."
"Shut up," you grumble, and his smile widens.
"No, I mean it. I love seeing this side of you." He pulls you in and presses a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering on your skin. When he pulls away, his eyes are warm, his gaze filled with an affection that takes your breath away.
Your heart swells, and you can't help but smile.
It's too soon for love. You know that. But the way he looks at you, the way he touches you, it makes you feel things you've never felt before. It makes you feel like it might be possible, one day.
And that's enough.
You rest your head on his chest again, your hand reaching up to run through his hair, and he lets out a sigh, relaxing against you.
"There's a lot of things you don't know about me," you mumble, unable to stop the words from coming out.
"That's true." His voice is quiet, his touch gentle, and he nudges you, his chin pressing into the top of your head. "But I'd like to learn. If you'll let me."
You're not used to being asked for anything, much less given a choice. Hunter's words, and the implication behind them, leave you speechless. You stare up at him, not quite sure what to say, and his expression falters, uncertainty crossing his face.
You swallow, and nod.
A grin spreads across his face, and he looks like he's trying to suppress it, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
It's a rare sight, a genuine, unguarded smile from him, and you can't help but chuckle.
The sound is enough to break him. His expression softens, and a low, rumbling laugh escapes his chest, the sound filling the room. You lean in, and kiss him, slow and tender. His arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, and his laughter fades, replaced by a contented sigh.
You've never felt more comfortable, more safe.
Or more at home.
As the two of you lay there, tangled together, you realize something.
You're not sure how it happened, or when, but somewhere along the way, Hunter became a part of your life. And now, it seems impossible to imagine a life without him.
And for the first time in a long while, the thought of the future doesn't fill you with dread.
It fills you with hope.
You fall asleep like that, wrapped in his arms, your bodies pressed together.
You sleep better than you have in a long time.
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