#Refuse Compactor | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

detroitbydark · 5 months ago

Text

Title: Tell Me That Your Soul Lies Now

Chp 16

Relationship: Sev/OC/Scorch

Rating: NSFW Mature MDNI

Characters: Jessa, Sev, Scorch

Warnings: Canon typical violence and gore

Summary: Somethings are inevitable -or- Jessa makes a sandwich

I'm utterly giddy for ya'll to read this. This is not a drill. they are going to fuck. I've had a large chunk of this completed for over three years and finally was able to chronologically catch up and shine it up. Thank @fractiouskat for being my sounding board and best friend and thank you to @royalhandmaidens for the greatest banner ever!

The lights of Coronet City glow like a thousand stars in the night sky. If Corellia weren’t such a shithole, it might be pretty- but just on the other side of the transparisteel, the stench of industry, of smelters and shipyards, became the unsightly reality.

The borrowed ship comes in slowly, Scorch navigating it easily into the docking stall. Full-dark was not particularly busy, and for that Scorch was thankful.

Honestly, he’s thankful for a lot of things right now. To his right Jessa dozes in Sev’s arms, the other commando only looking slightly uncomfortable with the tight fit of her body against his. The exhaustion of the mission had hit her hard and fast. When he’d noticed her head nodding, Sev had offered her a seat on his lap. He glances at Scorch as the sound of magnalocks anchoring their ship in the dock echo through the hull. He gently jostles their girl awake.

Their girl.

There’s something thrilling about that. He’d never dreamed he’d have anyone outside of his pod that he’d want to spend the rest of his days tied to, but in came Jessa, and now the three of them were… something. He’s not sure she entirely understands the depth of what they felt for her, but she would. They’d make sure of it.

He gives his head a rough shake, one limp curl still clinging tenaciously to his forehead with dried sweat. He needed a good hard rattle of the old brain pan to refocus. Sev gives him a questioning look as Jessa stretches in his lap like a tooka waking from an afternoon nap. A pained expression crosses his face, and Scorch can see the tension that’s settled into his shoulders. There was a limit to how much touch his brother could handle, and it seemed like he’d reached it.

“Here, let me take her off your hands.”

“Thanks, vod.”

Owlishly, Jessa blinks up at him as she takes his offered hand. He wants to carry her all the way to the safe house. Too much contact may make Sev jumpy, but not Scorch. She could live in his pocket til he went marching, and he’d never be able to have her near enough. He pulls her body into his with steadying hands on her hips and she rises on her toes, nuzzling sleepily against his neck.

Sev gives him a look before his eyes scan up and down her small frame. “I’m going to grab the duffles. We’ll get her squared away.”

Scorch presses a gentle kiss to the crown of her head. Her dress has seen better days, and after he got her out of it, it would see nothing but the bottom of a trash compactor. She’d refused to put the dead rebel’s boots back on when they’d got back to the cockpit, and he can see her toes curl and wiggle against the cool durasteel. It had been fine in the moment- in fact he’d found it pretty fekking cute- but unfortunately, bare feet weren’t going to fly on a walk to the safehouse... unless you had a hankering for tetanus.

The advantage of having a safehouse on Corellia was that everyone kept their heads down until you gave them a reason not to. The key was to stay below the radar, to be unmemorable. If she went out as is, there was no way that was happening.

“Mesh’la,” Scorch murmurs softly as she presses closer, his arms wrapping around her body. He can feel the slight quake in her frame and he looks down to catch a single tear rolling down her cheek.

“Hey, we decided these were a no-no, right?” He questions, swiping at the tiny drop with the tip of his gloved finger. Jessa smiles weakly before catching his lips for a kiss that she finishes with the soft press of her teeth around his lower lip.

He’s never wanted to be out of his beskar so badly. She hums softly as she pulls away.

“Good tears.”

“Still trying to make that a thing?”

“Mhmm. It absolutely is a thing,” she confirms. She attempts to skirt past him but comes up short when his arm blocks across her chest.

“Can’t go out like that.”

First confusion, then understanding flits across her face. She looks to him for instruction, and Scorch can’t deny the swell of satisfaction he feels. She needed him. Without saying it, without asking for it, she turned to him knowing he would take care of her. Her body goes slack against him as he scoops her into his arms. Her mostly-bare legs dangle and her arms wrap around his neck. When he looks down she cranes up to kiss his cheek.

They don’t speak as he carries her through the ship. For the second time since boarding the transport he’s struck speechless, though this time the absence of words holds no discomfort. He knows there will be a later to fall back on.

Sev is near the still-furled exit ramp when they arrive. He reaches out and runs a gloved finger over the bottom of Jessa’s foot. Scorch has to tighten her grip as she squirms.

“No tickling.” Her voice is a soft, pleading whine, and it places Scorch’s brain firmly in the bedroom. Sev groans under the cover of his buy’ce.

“Boots and cloak.” The sharpshooter points to the small nearby bench. Scorch lets her feet slip to the grates. Sev surprises his vod. While Jessa sits and scoops up a boot, Sev drops to one armored knee in front of her, taking it from her hand.

She sits back, head cocked curiously as Sev cradles her ankle in one hand and uses the other to slip her foot into the leather, as reverently as if she were a princess from a fairy tale. He slowly tightens and ties her laces before allowing his fingers to trace up her leg, featherlight and dutiful. Then he takes the other boot and repeats the process. No one speaks as he offers her a hand to help her to her feet. Scorch grabs the cloak and unfurls it as Sev hits the controls to drop the ramp. The dull industrial hum of the planet permeates the air around them. The clean woolen material is draped over her shoulders as she steps into it. Her fingers only tremble slightly as she ties it into place. Gripping her shoulders lightly, Scorch turns her to face him and lifts the hood over her head. Her eyes, the pale blue pools they are, stand out against the deep mahogany threads of the fabric.

As if it’s always been, Jessa falls into step between the pair as they make their way off the ship and into the night.

———-

When Sev had said they were heading to a safehouse, Jessa hadn’t known what to expect. It was certainly not the fifth floor walk-up in a working-class apartment complex.

“Were you thinking more cabin in the woods or secret warehouse?” Scorch had asked teasingly as she’d trudged up the stairs obediently between the pair of commandos. Though fatigue had infused his voice and his attention was focused on the environment around them, it didn’t stop him from joking. “We have those, but why not be comfortable in the lap of luxury?’

The front door is as plain and as unassuming as the building itself.

“Of all the places, this was really the best option?” Scorch cocks his head at his brother. Sev shrugs as he keys in the door code.

“Figured no one would think to bother us here.”

Entering first, Sev unholsters his blaster, moving from room to room clearing the small apartment. While his vod worked, Scorch used a small handheld device to scan the area around them.

“Checking for bugs.” As if he was reading her mind he added, “Just because it’s called a ‘safe house’ doesn’t mean it is.”

Jessa shifts her weight from one foot to the other and back again. Her nap in Sev’s lap hadn’t been nearly enough to chase away the exhaustion still mired in her bones. And… something else was there, too. A nervous anxiety, an expectation of what she thought was to come bubbled through the worry and fear.

Removing his buyce, Scorch offers her a lopsided smile as Sev moves to her side.

Her head turns without thought and she meets him as he dips his chin for a kiss. Soft. So soft compared to the onslaught it had felt like after the auction. It wasn’t passion- it was reassurance. We’re still here. You’re safe

When he pulls back she feels a small bag being pressed into her hands, a canvas duffle she’d seen him shoulder as they’d left the ship.

“We brought you some things we thought you might need.” The sharpshooter grumbles. “Like clothes and those fekking boots.”

“GAR motto was ‘always prepared’,” Scorch announces with a grin.

“Pretty sure that’s space scouts, di’kut.”

“Same difference. Anyway!” Standard to practice, Scorch ignores the insult. “The bathroom is down the hall. A shower will make you feel better.” He pauses, then adds on, suddenly cautious. “We’re gonna get our kit off. We’ll be here when you're done.”

She dips her chin in acknowledgement, clutching the duffle to her chest. Unlike Kyrimorut, there were no twists or turns to lose yourself in. The bathroom was only half a dozen steps from the living room, and what appeared to be the lone bedroom only a few more past that.

The door closes behind her with a soft hiss and Jessa rests back against it. Scorch’s teasing earlier hadn’t been wrong- luxury this was not. Minimal decor and nothing of immense quality had been used as furnishing, giving it the feel of a model and not something lived in. It wasn’t homey and lived-in like their lodgings back in Kyrimorut, but it was clean, and the water ran hot less than a minute after she turned the knob. It was all she could ask for in the moment.

Muted voices filter in as steam fills the room. She holds her breath on an inhale hoping to decipher what’s being said, but it’s useless over the sound of water.

Moving to the small vanity, she begins removing the pins that had managed to stay in her hair, stacking them in a neat pile. Her fingers tremble as the last is set down and what remained of her updo tumbles down. Jessa studies herself in the mirror. The woman staring back at her is unrecognizable. The shadows of fresh bruises, still blossoming, litter her skin along with a dozen small cuts and abrasions. Her makeup is hopelessly smeared, her mascara and liner running from sweat and shed tears.

She looks away. Shower. Get to the shower. The zipper of the dress is tenacious, failing to budge as she stretches her aching arms behind her. It slips through her fingers once, twice. Her breath comes out in short puffs as her heart rate ticks up. She takes a deep breath and tries again. The third blessed time is the charm as she's able to grip and lower it down her back. With a gentle shake, the surviving sleeve comes loose from her arm, and the remains of the dress pool at her feet. Nearly bare with the exception of her blades and undergarments, Jessa looks at herself again.

The girl from Irmenu was gone. The innocence, fluff, and frill had disappeared when that cold brand had touched skin. She was different now, inexorably changed by time and things beyond her control.

The decorative sheath on her wrist catches her eye as the shower steam begins to creep toward her. Flecks of blood have dried to the handle, clinging to the carved strill as if it had gone hunting.

More blood clings, dried and rusty brown, to the edges of her cuticles and paints the underside of her nails- a stark reminder that it wasn’t the dagger who’d killed. It was her wielding of it. When she closes her eyes she can feel the hot gush of blood running over the grooves of her clenched hand. At her neck, fingers ghost over the edge of the brand just behind her ear. The ruined concealer she’d so carefully applied is all but gone. Her hand covers it, presses flat against the raised outline of scars.

The fear and panic come back in a sudden rush. The arm around her neck. The air her body desperately craved but couldn’t draw in. She drops a hand, grips the ceramic edge of the sink as she tries to slow her heart. She can feel the race of it pounding against her brand. She tries to ignore the blackness that threatens at the edges of her vision.

Far away, there’s a knock at the door. A voice calling her name. Both sounds are just mild static that doesn’t register over the sound of her own rapid breathing.

She can feel her dagger splitting through clothing and flesh. The animalistic snarl of pain, the hot gush of-

———

“Udessi. I’ve got you.” He’d only meant to check in and see if she had everything she needed, but then he’d heard a hitched sob. Almost drowned out by the sound of running water, it had set alarms to ringing in his head.

She’d been oblivious to the door opening, lost in whatever waking nightmare had gripped her, but still she hadn’t fought when his arms had twined around her. Now he was prying her white-knuckled fingers from the porcelain lip of the sink, carefully moving her other hand away from the grip it had on her own throat and reeling her away from the memory.

“Scorch?” She turns in his arms, his hold only slackening for a moment and then going firm once again after she’s buried her face against his bare chest. Hot puffs of breath caress his skin. Her body shudders in his grip.

“Shhh… I’ve got you.” His voice is pitched low and wraps around her like a protective shroud. “What can I do?”

“I can feel it. I- the way it- the blood…” She hiccups, and Scorch’s hands run comfortingly up and down her back. He’d worried this might happen, but had hoped just maybe… he chides himself. He remembers his first. Even with a lifetime of training, knowing without a doubt that his mere existence meant he’d take lives, it had been unsettling. Back before he’d been Buir, Sarge had warned them. Scorch hadn’t lost sleep like Boss did, but he’d gone off his rations for longer than his Sargeant would have accepted had he known. Sev ate double to keep his secret.

‘The first time is-‘ his voice cuts out as he leans away, dipping slightly to try and put himself in her line of sight. “I understand. Let me take care of you, Jess.”

His breath freezes in his lungs as she hesitates. But then she nods slowly, and he releases it in a rush that makes her hair flutter.

She pulls back. Her blue eyes tip up and find his. He’s struck silent. Her lips part as if she’s about to speak, but nothing comes out. He wishes he could make her forget, but he knows down in his bones that she’s been changed. Taking a life etches itself on your bones. Good, bad, or indifferent, there was no going back.

All he can offer is the tender press of his lips to her forehead and a gentle smile before he turns them away from the mirror entirely, shielding her from herself. The same hands he used to bring death and destruction gently work at the sheath on her wrist, slipping it off and laying it on the counter. He doesn’t want her to get lost in her own reflection. If there were a way he could make her see herself as he did, he’d do it. Coarse fingers cradle her wrist as he presses a reverent kiss to her pulse point. His lips linger, feeling her heartbeat. He wants to be her tether. He knows he’d karked things up back in that moon, but he’s willing to do anything to earn her faith back.

He leans into her just enough to get her to take a half step back, and then he’s dropping to a knee at her feet. The rising steam from the shower has fogged out the mirror, closing in around them and wrapping them in its promise of warmth. Even without his beskar’gam, clad only in the black tactical pants he preferred, Scorch’s bulk makes the small bathroom seem tinier still. His hand comes to rest on her knee, eyes searching hers.

“Still good?” His hand doesn’t begin its ascent until he sees her nod. Again his fingers are deft, the buckle of the sheath on her thigh offering no resistance. His fingers slip under the body-warmed leather. He swaps the sheath for another reverential kiss, this time in the middle of her thigh. The blade finds a home next to the other behind him before his fingers are coasting over the planes of her thighs and hooking into the waistband of her panties. They’re fekking lace. There’s no tearing his eyes away from the way they slip down her legs and pool on the floor. He nearly loses his composure when she steps out of them. It takes him a minute to tamp down the feeling that blooms at the sight of her bared to him, the heat low in his gut. Jessa doesn’t help beat those feelings back. Her fingers find a hold in his messy curls, her polished nails raking delicately against his scalp. An unhinged moan escapes him.

“If you keep that up, I’m never gonna get off this floor.“ Just to torment himself, he runs his hands up her thighs, tracing over her hips and mapping her curves as he stands. “Come

on. Gonna get you in the shower now, Jess.”

She allows him to guide her into the hot spray of water. There’s time given at each step- from when he slips in behind her, to when he reaches around to adjust the spray out of her eyes. Her body jerks as his chest presses against her bare back, and his heart falls out his shebs.

“Your pants…“ she turns and motions sweepingly to the tactical pants he’d worn under his beskar. The temporary fear of her reaction is quickly replaced with a grin. Warm, worn hands frame her face and bring her eyes back up to him.

“Not worried about that right now. Taking care of you, ok?”

She nods, the soft skin of her cheeks moving against his damp palms. “Ok.”

“Good girl.” He works her back into the spray. It wasn’t the shower in their yaim, but it wasn’t half bad either- maybe a little cramped, but he doubted they’d been thinking about double occupancy when they’d obtained it.

It takes little encouragement to get her to tip her head back. Her eyes flutter shut as he uses a hand to guide it. Water sluices through her hair, down her neck, pooling at her collarbones and spilling over her breasts- Scorch swallows hard and refocuses. She didn’t need to hear that he thought she was beautiful, that she’d give that Goddess she’d once worshipped a run for her money. This was about her, but not just fanning vanity that she’d never seemed to care much for. This was a promise that he’d come back to her. For her. If his world narrowed into violence, he wouldn’t bring it back to her. Her eyes open, brows furrowing up at him and Scorch realizes his hands have stopped moving.

“Sorry.” His fingers begin carding slowly through her hair again.

She closes her eyes. “Where did you go?”

He busies himself with grabbing the lone bottle of shampoo that had been stocked in the shower. It’s generic like the apartment itself, but it smells clean.

“Nowhere more important than where I am right now.” Gently, his fingers work at untangling the knots and snarls in her dark hair in the same careful way he might defuse a bomb, before working the suds to her roots. She turns and leans back, bracing against him. An arm loops over her stomach, fingers splayed to hold her close. She misses the way the water runs from russet to clear, but he doesn’t. It takes biting his tongue to stop himself from cracking a poorly timed joke. Instead he turns his focus to her hands. He takes and massages them, soap and water, one at a time, making sure no fleck of dirt or blood is left marring her skin. He feels the tension bleed from her body.

He does his best to avoid the numerous cuts and abrasions that litter her body, and nuzzles gentle apologies and soft kisses into the crown of wet hair when he can’t.

They get lost in the careful care he provides, the meditative way he rinses her hair before he gently lathers soap along her body. He murmurs quiet orders in her ear and offers praise when she complies.

Eventually the steam begins to dissipate and the water begins to cool.

Scorch excuses himself, steps out and opens a cabinet to grab towels. Tiny oceans take shape at his feet. It’s the first time he notices the uncomfortable way his soaked pants cling to his skin, the wet fabric and air rapidly turning them into a built in cooling system. He hesitates with towels in hand and then makes the decision to lose them. They fall with a wet thunk. Still in the shower, Jessa giggles. That sound is worth every credit in the galaxy right now. He loops a towel around his waist and kicks the soggy clothes to the side. The towels may have been the only luxury whomever had set up the safe house had sprung for, commando specc’d and fluffy, probably the only thing in the whole apartment that wasn’t militarily generic.

Scorch holds open the towel as the water shuts off. Jessa steps out and directly into it. He bundles her up, wrapping her so much like the half-frozen runaway slave they’d found in a cargo hold of their Buir’s ship months ago. A soft sigh pulls him back from his thoughts as he snags another towel and begins to wring the water from her hair.

‘Do you want me to stay and help you get dressed?’

—————-

Scorch had always been full of frenetic energy. The most brutal lessons he’d ever learned had come from his inability to just stop. For so many of those lessons Sev had been his Sargeant’s tool for correction, doling out what Walon Vau saw fit for re-education. And while he’d learned to stifle it eventually, Sev silently reflects, it still reared its head when his emotions were up.

Scorch turns and paces the half dozen steps across the room before stalking back and starting again.

At least he’d thrown pants on. That towel had been precarious, and Scorch had already shown enough of his shebs for one night. Eyes on his feet, he seems to be having a conversation with himself, mouth forming words but no sound giving them life. He didn’t need to read his lips to get the jist of what was going through his head. Even after she’d chosen them, kissed them, put her care in their hands, Scorch was still terrified she was about to pull an about-face. Sev gives him to the internal count of five to get his head straight.

“You’re making me dizzy.”

The demolitions expert’s head snaps up. “How are you just sitting there?”

“Versus wearing a trench in the floor?” Scorch comes up short, eyes narrowed. Sev is undeterred by his brother’s reproachful look. “Whatever you're working yourself up with in that fek-wired brain of yours, let it go. Copy?”

“No copy.” His arms cross over his bare chest, then fall to his hips just as quickly. “I-”

Sev holds his hand up and gives his head a firm shake, “She chose us. She chose me. By the way she was kissing you earlier, I guarantee she chose you.”

It would be a lie to say he wasn’t worried himself. She could still be shocky. She certainly had been earlier when she’d nearly left a smoking hole in Mereel’s head. Reassuring Scorch was reassuring himself.

“What if she…”

“What if she what?” The voice comes from behind Scorch, and he turns like a scolded strill- Jessa can’t quite manage to hide the hint of amusement behind her questioning eyes. She leans against the frame of the open door, winces and then stands straight. A towel is wrapped around her hair and her fingers worry at the hem of Scorch’s old shirt that he’d dutifully packed for her.

“What if she didn’t like wearing my hand-me-downs?’ For all his earlier worry, Scorch does a bang-up job of hiding behind a joke. Jessa raises one manicured brow.

“Really?”

“Couldn’t torture me for the truth, Jess.”

An escaping yawn silences any retort.

“Come here, Princess. Let’s get you straight.” It’s not a question- Sev has already risen and covered the few steps to her. She eyes his hand carefully when he holds it out for her. There’s a second, a split second, that he’s afraid she won’t take it, and the reassurance he’d given Scorch was a lie after all. She rescues him from the threat of a spiral, placing her hand in his. His fingers wrap around hers- so delicate, so much smaller than his own- and he guides her to the bed. Before she can sit, he gives her a gentle tug into his body. Her surprised eyes only grow wider when he drops a quick kiss to her forehead. Her brows furrow.

“Is there a problem?”

“With…?” She takes her hand from his and touches the area he’d kissed. “With this? Nothing. With the way you smell… well, that’s another story.”

Scorch sputters out a laugh behind him.

“You’re not much better!” Jessa doesn’t turn to the demolition expert, instead graces Sev with a beatific smile.

“Aww Mesh’la…”

“Why don’t you two go get clean.”

Sev raises a brow. “That an order, Princess?”

“What would you like it to be?”

“Hold on you two, let me get the popcorn. I wanna watch this.”

Sev and Jessa both turn. Scorch continues to grin but thankfully stops talking. Sev catches a fond roll of her eyes.

“You two. Clean. Now.”

——————————-.

They’re a lot, Sev and Scorch in one small space, but by the Goddess, they made that space feel like home. Jessa can hear them down the hall. Scorch’s snarky wise cracks and Sev’s responding grumbles. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, fighting back a smile.

She misses them already, but stars, they had stunk- Scorch to a lesser extent because of his earlier help, but Sev had reeked of violence, of blood and sweat and destruction. They’d been hesitant to shuffle off, but they’d shared a weighted look between them before turning about-facing and all but pushing each other out of the way to get through the door.

Somehow, they added levity when she most needed it and for that she’d be eternally thankful- though if they took too long, she wasn’t entirely sure she’d be awake to greet them when they came back. Even now sitting on the bed with its irritatingly low thread-count comforter itching her legs, she can feel sleep’s comforting embrace trying to slip around her. She stifles a yawn with the back of her hand while she listens to the comforting movement of her commandos. Instead of the sound of pelting water, something else grabs her attention. The faint ring, wholly familiar from her time around the various Mandalorians of Kyrimorut, echoes in the small room.

A communications device.

Across the room on the lone dresser (along with a dagger, a hold out blaster, and (most concerning) a thermal detonator) sits the comm. It vibrates as it rings, dancing merrily into the det that rocks back and forth from the contact.

She’s got it in her hand before she can even think about it, the other stilling Scorch’s gleeful little explosive before it can move any closer to the edge of the dresser.

“Six-two? Six-two?!”

Jessa’s mouth forms an ‘o’ as she looks down at the comms device in her hand. The comms device that she’d accidentally answered. The comms device she’d accidentally answered in her rush to prevent an explosion. The comm that had Walon Vau’s very irritated hiss coming through it.

She looks to the door once, weighing the merit of calling one or both men.

“So help me, Six-two, I will make you wish you-”

“Su cuy’gar, Buir.” Walon Vau’s tirade ends mid threat. She knows she should breathe, but her breath is trapped in her lungs as the other end of the comm goes quiet.

“Jess’ika?” While he doesn’t sound exactly pleased to hear her, he was not actively threatening her life in the way he had when he’d believed Scorch was in possession of his comm. She was willing to take it as a win. “Would you care to tell me where my errant commandos have gone off to?”

“They’re- we’re,” she corrects, “safe and secure.”

His voice is even and cold when he speaks. “That is not what I asked.” Silence falls between them. It makes Jessa squirm. The thought of disappointing her Buir settles like a hot coal in the pit of her stomach. Her ears pick up his quiet sigh. “Are you all in one piece?”

“Yes, Buir. We…”

“Needed to go to ground. Yes, I should have expected that.”

Her bare foot toes at the threadbare rug under her. Her eyes remain downcast as if that would hide her from Walon Vau’s crosshairs.

“You have some explaining to do, ad’ika.”

“I know.” She pulls a deep breath in through her nose, holding it for a moment before letting it puff past her lips. She’s not ready to answer to him just yet, so she asks what has been weighing on her mind “How is he? Fixer? Is he- did they get there-”

Movement out of the corner of her eye splits her attention between the aggrieved Mandalorian and the commando with damp, tousled hair and low slung compression shorts peering in the door. At her glance Scorch steps fully in the room, raising a brow in her direction and inclining his head toward the comm. He mouths ‘Sarge?’. She nods her confirmation. In any other situation, his grimace would be comical.

“He’s alive. I believe that’s thanks to you, if the tale Mereel tells is to be true- and he is telling quite a few tales right now.”

Scorch ignores her pointed look and remains silent (there’s a first time for everything) as he moves in and dips his head to nuzzle against her neck. She has to choke down the soft whimper that threatens.

“I expect you’ll be prepared to debrief when you return?”

“I-uh-mhmm…” she feels a warm rush of heat from her cheeks down to her toes as he palms her ass through his borrowed shirt.

Walon makes a sound of disgust. “Give the comm to Six-Two. Unless he’s too busy… I can’t even believe… give him the comm.”

Scorch winces. Serves him right. He swallows hard before he begins. “Uh… su cuy’gar, Sarge.”

“So I take it from this change of plans that you’ve taken it upon yourself-”

“The deviation was my idea, Sarge.” Sev comes to a stop next to Scorch, towel used to dry his hair frozen in his hands. Apparently both commandos had become deathly allergic to clothing. The sweats he’d pulled on hang obscenely low on his hips.

“I take it this means you di’kute have decided on a plan of action.”

Scorch snickers. Jessa narrows her eyes only to feel them go wide and her breath hitch as Sev runs the back of his fingers up the exposed skin of her thigh. His eyes lock with hers. “Yes, Sir.”

‘Is she standing there?’

‘Sir?’ Both men parrot in unison

‘Step away from the dala. She doesn’t need to hear what I am about to say to you.’ The two commandos share a look and then turn towards her. Jessa looks at the comm and raises a brow. You heard the man. She shoos them out with a wave of her hand.

There’s a rush to comply, be it for Vau or for her she’s not sure. Sev shoulders his way past Scorch who’s forced to bring up the rear.

They stop at the end of the hall, just out of ear shot. It doesn’t stop her curiosity from getting the better of her. She can’t help but take up position at the open door. Words are lost but what she can catch of the old mercs voice is telling.

Sev’s throat bobs as he swallows hard, he wipes his hands on the front of his sweats while scorch stares at the comm. His head bobs in time with his affirmatory responses.

It’s probably her fault, their dressing down. He was probably tearing into them and blaming them for her actions at the prison.

The color has drained from Sev’s face and Scorch seems to be waiting for a chance to speak his peace that never comes. He turns and catches her eye before she can disappear back into the room. The smile he flashes is too bright, the thumbs up he sends her way is excessive.

She steps away, back to the dresser, and her fingers toy with the det before she grabs the dagger left near it. She lets it sit tip down against the faux wood top and spins it in slow circles.

“Hey Princess, put the blade down.”

She catches the handle in her hand and gently lays it flat once again. “Did you have a good chat?”

“Something like that.” Sev offers flatly.

“I’m sorry I-”

“No,” he interrupts. “You didn’t do anything. It’s just-”

“The old barve is just… concerned.” Scorch translates as he opens a nearby duffle and buries the comm deep inside it before zipping it shut.

“Concerned? Should I comm back? Do you think it would help?”

“No!” The pair all but shout in sync. Sev clears his throat, “I think we’ve, uh, cleared everything up.”

“What he said. We just needed to- be talked at.” He holds his arms open and she walks in to him and wraps her arms around his waist “You’re ok, right? Thinking clearly?”

“Not feeling pressured?” Sev questions with enough tension in his voice that Jessa turns to him immediately.

She begins slowly, weighing her words. “Everything considered,” she holds her hand out until Sev takes it and steals her from his brother. He reels her in and she happily complies. “It could be a lot worse.”

“That’s good. Right Scorch?”

The demolition expert in question gives her a grin with far more teeth than usual. Her arms wrap around her marksman’s neck. Hesitantly his hands go to her waist.

“You know what would make things easier for me?” She can feel his hands flex in an unspoken question. “You could kiss me.”

Still he hesitates. Jessa takes it upon herself, rising up on her toes and brushing her lips over his, soft and teasing. She goes to pull back… but she’s flipped the switch, and Sev's mouth is suddenly very hungry against hers. She swallows down a soft grunt as her hand slips between them and cups him through his sweats. She drops a kiss at the corner of his mouth as she pulls back, chasing after her lips but not quite getting her where he wants her, instead burying his face against her neck and giving her a playful bite. She whimpers at the shock of pleasure that finds its ground in her lower belly. Her voice has a new husk when she speaks

“We’re doing this, right?”

Both men laugh. Sev’s is just a huff but Scorch’s is full and fills the room around them, “That’s up to you Princess. Package deal-“

“-or no deal,” she finishes, turning in Sev’s arms to catch his vod’s eye. The silent commando nods. “Deal”

Scorch’s voice bears a new husk as he leans in and whispers in her ear. “We’ll take care of you, but you say stop if it’s too much.”

Words elude her. Jessa nods silently. Scorch’s hands give her hips a gentle squeeze as he walks them the handful of steps to the bed… and then he’s gone. The heat of him is missed acutely. The simmering burn from Sev’s eyes replaces it. Something stirs in her belly. Not a complete novice, she knows the beginnings of arousal. It blossoms from her core out, heating her skin as it spreads.

“Come here, Mesh’la.” Scorch is laid out on the bed still in nothing but tight compression shorts. His legs are spread wide and inviting, fabric pulled tight across his own burgeoning arousal. Jessa’s mouth waters. What would it be like to kneel before him and place a soft kiss along the straining black fabric, tease him until he was cursing and begging for more? Her own mind clouds at the thought, and Scorch clears his throat.

He pats the spot in between them, his eyes dark with desire. It strikes her then- this is a precipice. A point of no return. A bonfire burning licking tongues of flame to the night sky, burning hot through her clothes and warming the skin beneath- no doubt if she proceeded, she’d be devoured by flames between the two.

She’s never wanted to burn so badly, to disappear into them as if she were part of the fire they shared.

Two sets of eyes follow her. Jessa raises one knee to the bed and then the other. She can feel her shirt shift up higher on her thighs as her hands come down against the worn comforter. Scorch’s eyes follow the hem higher before they lock on her eyes. A delicious shiver of anticipation skitters up her skin as she crawls up toward him. Sev groans behind her, a ragged breath rushing past his lips.

Scorch takes her chin between his thumb and forefinger and guides her body against his, capturing her mouth when she’s fully in the cradle of his thighs. The bed dips behind her, and a strong, calloused hand brushes feather-light over the back of her thigh. A shiver runs up her spine. Scorch swallows the soft groan that escapes her as she tries to keep her brain from shorting out at the sensation of his lips on hers, of the way he swallows down every sound she makes like they belong to him.

Why hadn’t they don’t this ages ago? Why hadn’t they fallen into bed together and never come up for air?

Another pair of lips find soft skin as Sev pushes her oversized shirt up and over her hips. His thumbs brush over the twin dimples peeking just above the hem of the lacy black panties they’d packed for her, followed by the soft warmth of breath as he places a slow kiss first on one, then the other.

Scorch collects all the soft sighs and whimpers that stir up from within, swallowing them down like sustenance. Sevs lips trail up her spine, his hands coming to cup the swell of her ass as he moves. Instinct has her arching back against him.

Scorch’s tongue strokes along her lips, teasing and tasting as she opens for him. She’s tentative, but he’s more patient then she’d known him capable of. The tip of her tongue brushes against his, sending an electric shock to her center. It’s all the encouragement he’s been waiting for. He tastes her mouth, explores it as she explores his. Warm and soft and wet, their tongues glide along one another’s. Tentatively Jessa captures his between her teeth earning her a low growl. It’s a heady feeling being the one to elicit that sound.

Scorch pulls back. His eyes shine black, pupils blown wide, in the low light. He studies her for a moment before his mouth is on her again, this time slipping down to her jaw and leaving a trail of soft kisses and gentle nips down her neck. Her back arches involuntarily and, behind her, Sev groans and presses the hard length of arousal against her. She wants it. She wants both of them. Now.

“I need...” she whimpers as she feels Scorch sucks a mark below her jaw. The sharp sting of it makes her body clamp around nothing. She can feel her arousal soaking into her panties.

“You’ve got us.” Scorch murmurs against the column of her throat before leaning back to admire his work. Sev’s hands continue to knead and press into her skin. One calloused finger finds the waistband of her panties and runs under it. Jessa can barely form words but she tries.

“Both in- inside me… I want…”

The broken groan from both men plays in stereo. It’s Scorch who’s able to form words first.

“That particular act is not happening tonight, Mesh’la.”

“Or anytime soon,” Sev adds while Scorch mumbles something about the holonovels Parja had let her borrow.

She feels bereft. She wants everything, and she wants it so deeply and badly that it’s overwhelming. It brings tears to her eyes. Scorch sees it in her face, pulling her back in for a soft kiss, his thumb wiping away the tear that rolls down her cheek.

“We need to make this good for you.” He presses his forehead to hers. “Trust us?” He finds an answer in her small nod. “We’ll work up to all those filthy little holo fantasies someday.” Jessa’s cheeks flame to life. She bites her lip to hide the smile that’s pulling at the corner of her mouth.

“Looking forward to it,” Sev adds as he places a kiss high on her ass. His fingers, still trapped in her waistband grip and pull at the fabric til it’s sliding with maddening slowness over her skin. Her panties come to rest on her thighs. He kisses the same spot again, now bare for him.

The smile falls away and her mouth opens in a small gasp.

“Roll over.”

It takes a moment for her brain and body to connect with the growled demand. Scorch’s hands are gently turning her in his arms until her back is coming to rest against his chest.

“Lift your arms, Jess.” His breath is warm and tickles her ear. Strong hands skim along her sides as she reaches up. Scorch’s fingers gather the loose fabric of her shirt and bring it up and over her head. The air is cool in contrast to the heat the man behind her radiates. Jessa looks down at Sev, the hunter waiting patiently for his prey. The desire - so starkly evident in his eyes - chases away any chill that may have threatened.

He moves slowly, placing a hand on either ankle. He’s testing the waters, making sure she can telegraph his movements. Scorch’s mouth lays tender kisses along her neck. His hands rove over her body, finally moving to cup her breasts.

“I’ve wanted to see you in my hands forever.” He kneads her appreciatively, and Jessa’s head falls back against his shoulder. She’s seen them at work now, up close and personal with their deadly skill set. They could wreak havoc and rain destruction, but yet here were two of the most deadly men in the galaxy using that focus and determination to treat her gently, to make sure everything about this was perfect.

Sev’s hands travel around her calves, slipping up along her skin until they reach the back of her knees. She watches with heavy-lidded eyes as he slowly moves them apart, opening her up for his view. His tongue darts out and wets his lips as Scorch’s fingers find the dusky pink tips of her nipples and pinch experimentally. He rolls them lazily between his fingers when her breath catches. If she were clear-headed, she’d be able to see that he was cataloging her reactions and fine tuning his ministrations, but Jessa’s brain has gone fuzzy around the time her shirt came off, and all she can focus on is the pleasant pulse of arousal building low in her belly.

A whine, needy and sweet, leaves her mouth. Scorch smiles into her neck before he begins sucking at a spot behind her ear that has her toes curling. It’s all distracting enough that she doesn’t notice Sev sinking into position between her thighs until he’s placing a kiss of his own along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. Shocked, her knees try to snap together- but the commando's broad shoulders keep her legs from closing.

“Easy, Princess.” Sev’s low baritone is strained as she focuses on relaxing her body.

“Sev…” Her skin feels hot and flushed. The pleasant pulse between her thighs is evolving into a dull ache, not a painful feeling, but one that demands attention.

“Shh,” Scorch soothes her while his hands continue to experiment with what his touch could do. “Sev’ika has been looking forward to this for a long time.”

Jessa watches the quiet marksman. He turns his head and places a series of reverent kisses along her thigh. She can feel him hum in agreement to his brother's statement.

“He’s going to make you come so sweet for him.”

Jessa’s heart pounds against her chest, a steady staccato that only grows faster as she watches Sev's mouth move closer to the apex of her thighs. He continues to trail wet, warm kisses as he goes until he’s so close to her center that his nose nudges against her folds.

“Fekking seven hells,” he curses in low awe, “you’re soaked.”

“Wish I could see.” Scorch muses, plucking gently at her nipples until she’s arching up into his hands.

“Mesh’la.” Sev confirms. His hand reaches up and takes her wrist from where she’d been death-gripping the blanket beneath them, guiding her hand down between her thighs. “Feel how wet you are?” The tips of her fingers slide along the slick arousal coating her. Sev stares intently.

“Touch yourself. Show me how you like it.” It’s not a request- it’s a demand. Jessa relaxes back into Scorch’s chest, feels the rumble of his groan.

“Tell us you’ve thought about this? About us?”

Jessa worries her lower lip between her teeth as her fingers tentatively part her folds, stroking softly from her center up to the tiny bundle of nerves she’d discovered through late night exploration. The tip of her finger circles her clit, teasing it and fanning the sensations it brought with it.

“I’ve thought about this,” she admits quietly, no longer worried about anything performative. She lets her own wants guide her. Her fingers, nails still lacquered crimson, dip into her waiting heat.

Sev growls an appreciative sound- Scorch grumbles in false distress that he’s not receiving the whole show.

Jessa moans, eyes squeezed shut, and leans her head back against Scorch. She pumps her fingers slowly, coating them in slick arousal. Scorch kisses along the taut muscles of her shoulder, her neck, a peppering of his lips against her that work to remind her that he’s there and that she’s safe and secure between the pair of them. Sev’s hands slide up and down her legs feather-light as he watches.

‘That’s it, Princess. Let me hear you.’

Taking it gently between his teeth, Scorch tugs at her earlobe. She gasps at the sudden electric current of sensation that fizzles down her spine. He works her over until her head is rolling to the side to allow him more access.

“Don’t even need to look to know what you're doing. I can hear you fucking yourself,” he groans.

Jessa can feel the thick press of his cock along her lower back. Her hands itch to wrap around it. She wants to do everything with them, experience everything. She’s got little patience for moving slow. She opens her mouth to tell him but Sev interrupts- he takes her wrist in hand and guides her fingers away from her body. She’s left feeling empty and irritable.

Sev pays little attention as she squirms and whines her distress while he brings it away from her body. A moments pause and then Scorch is reaching down and taking from him like he’s been offered a gift. She doesn’t fight as he draws it up to his mouth and slips the two fingers she’d used to pleasure herself past his lips. He hums contentedly, nearly a purr that rumbles deep in his chest, while his tongue sweeps between and around the digits cleaning every drop of arousal from her fingers.

He kisses the tip of each one as he allows her to draw them back. “Finally... I knew you’d taste good, but… shav…. you taste like fekking sunshine and fresh explosives.”

Sev laughs. “My turn.”

Sev doesn’t wax poetic on the taste of her, nor does he slowly continue with her seduction. Jessa gasps quietly as Sev sinks further between her thighs. His hot breath fans over her soaked folds just before his tongue sweeps across them. Through her own fog of pleasure she can feel his shoulders shudder. Scorch chuckles as he brushes Jessa’s hair back into one fist. Sev groans, the sound reverberating through her body as his tongue delves between her folds.

She’d lay awake thinking about what it would be like to have one of her boys touching her, their rough hands adoring her, and now… now she’s surrounded by them and Sevs tongue is lapping slowly at her center. It’s more than she ever imagined it could be.

Scorch uses his grip in her hair to angle her head to the side. He nuzzles at the soft skin of her neck, murmuring appreciatively. Jessa moans softly.

“You like that, Mesh’la?” Scorch murmurs in her ear. “Sev certainly does. You can hear how ready you are.” As if to answer the question of ready for what Jessa feels the slow push of one of Sev’s fingers into her center. His are larger than her own, one of his equivalent to nearly two of hers. He slides in and out slowly, coated slick in her arousal. Jessa mewls softly. Sev’s tongue rejoins the fray, the flat of it licking languidly over her clit. The tip flicks the small bundle of nerves at the end of each stroke.

“Do you want more?” Scorch’s voice penetrates the fog of desire. “Ask him.”

“Sev…. Sev baby, I need- Please.” She hears the desperation in her own voice. She’s wanton, arching her hips, trying to grind against his plush lips. He smiles against her cunt- she can feel his lips turn up- as he withdraws his finger. When it’s pressing back in, a second digit has joined the first. There’s a delightful stretch as her body accepts both. Jessa's teeth sink into her bottom lip as she moans. Scorch’s murmurs against her throat, taking the time to lay kisses between his praise.

“You’re doing so well taking his fingers Mesh’la.” Jessa makes a soft sound. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

It does, goddess it does, but her mouth can’t form the words. The growing whimpers and moans will have to do. Sev places a kiss to her clit before he’s taking the tiny bud into his mouth. His tongue flicks in time with his fingers moving inside her and Jessa can only grip his hair and messily scrabble for some hold on Scorch as the delicious tension in her belly spirals higher and higher. She can feel her body open to accommodate his fingers as he pumps and scissors them in a steady rhythm that is slowly driving her mad.

“I need more…” She’s finally able to find her voice. A low, feral sound rumbles between her legs a second before her commando complies. He sucks harder on her bud while the pace of his fingers quickens. The air leaves Jessa’s lungs as she holds tight to her men. Scorch’s hand covers her own as he laces their fingers together. She feels the beginning - the telltale promise - of release spooling up. The wet sound her body makes in response to Sev’s onslaught is obscene. Each pump of his fingers fills the room with the noise of her cunt being filled. Her thighs twitch, the muscles reacting outside of her control as the building and twisting reaches a breaking point. She arches up. Her hand leaves Sevs hair and finds his free hand where it’s wrapped around her thigh, holding her firmly to his mouth as she bucks against his tongue. She grips his fingers in an odd handhold.

“He loves hearing you.” Scorch grunts against the shell of her ear. She can feel his own hard length flexing against her lower back. “I love hearing you.”

The tension peaks and snaps as she cries out. It’s like stepping off a cliff into nothing, falling into pleasure. Her mind whites out, all senses focused on the overwhelming orgasm that’s sweeping through her. Sev’s fingers slow as her core squeezes around them. His tongue slowly works her through as her senses come back online one at a time. First she hears her own ragged breath and Scorch’s soft encouragement. Next her vision comes, Sev between her thighs gently lapping at her sopping folds, cleaning her release from her skin, his hair damp with sweat. Last, her sense of touch- Sev is squeezing her fingers. Scorch has unlaced theirs and is now stroking his hand up and down her side soothingly.

“So pretty…” He’s speaking with no small amount of wonder. He sucks in a sharp breath as she writhes against him. Sev chuckles, the dark gravel of the sound reverberating through her as he lays one last kiss to her cunt, then moves up and over her. They meet in a languid kiss. Pulling his lower lip into her mouth and holding it between her teeth, she can taste the tang of herself on his lips- the shock of it gives way to enjoyment, her tongue exploring the way his flavor and hers mix. A low growl rumbles in his chest as he pulls back. He runs a rough hand over his face. His pupils are blown wide, making his already dark eyes nearly black. Jessa feels the stir of desire, burned to coals with her own orgasm, flare back to life.

“I want more.”

“I’m up for it,” Scorch husks, nipping at her shoulder, reminding her he was still there. Like she could forget.

“Like we talked about?” Sev asks with a dark brow raised. Jessa huffs, grinding her hips back against the thickness pressing into her back. Scorch lets out a low, needy sound.

“Stang... yes please.”

“You do remember I’m right here, correct?”

Sev huffs out a laugh as he reaches down and rolls one perfectly pebbled nipple between his fingers. Jessa arches up with a gasp. “Can’t really forget that, Princess.”

“Nope,” Scorch grits out. “There’s no forgetting that. DId you hear yourself? Burned into my memory.”

Jessa’s fingers brush against the bulge in Sev’s blacks. He’s infuriatingly out of reach to do much more than graze but it’s enough to make his breath stutter.

“Roll over and give Scorch some attention before he starts yappin’.” He manages to rasp out, moving just out of range for her touch. He pats her knee as he retreats. His look is knowing as he moves from between her thighs until his back is against the wall, all supple and satisfied. She can feel his eyes following her movement as she turns in Scorch’s arms. She’s barely facing him - having only just seen the half mad look in his eyes - when he pulls her in and slots his mouth along hers.

A strong arm bands around her waist while a hand works its way in the hair at the base of her skull. His desperation bleeds into the feverish way his mouth moves against her, the way it slides down to her pulse point as she gasps and throws her head back.

“Want to be inside you.” He mumbles against her throat. “Tell me you want that too.”

Jessa nods frantically, unable to convince her lips to form the shape of words. In that moment, she’s never wanted anything more. Scorch’s hands grip her hips as she goes to move.

“Where are you going?” His mouth slides along her collarbone.

“I’m supposed to…” she trails off.

“Scoot back just enough so I can get these pants off before my gett’se explode? Yes. That exactly.”

Sev chuckles, dark and delicious, from his spot next to them. “Your holos didn’t show you more than one position?”

They’re teasing her.

Her cheeks, still heated from the first round, stay flushed as she swings her leg over. Sev traces the tips of his fingers along either side of her spine. He hums appreciatively at the whimper it draws from her. Sev’s teasing touch can’t pull her eyes from the sight of Scorch shucking his undershorts, seeing the deep V of muscle below his abs appear, then- she swallows hard, completely unable to stop staring as he carelessly tosses the garment away. He knows it too. His grin is hungry as she takes in the way his hard length lays against his stomach, the way it weeps onto his bronzed skin. Her mouth waters at the thought of sinking down and tasting him. She wonders what sounds he’d make, what sounds Sev would make, if she took them-

“I swear, if you do what I think you’re thinking of doing, this is not going to work.”

Sev huffs behind her, “I won’t stop you.”

Scorch glares past her. Jessa smothers a nervous laugh behind the back of her hand. Their banter melts her anxiety, eases any residual tension. Sev offers her an honest to maker wink when she glances over her shoulder before he’s nudging her forward.

It doesn’t take much prompting to move back overtop the prone commando. There’s a bruise forming over his right shoulder she hadn’t noticed previously, and she leans in to kiss it softly. The hard line of his cock nestles between her thighs and they both gasp at the sensation the contact sends stealing through them. Jessa rotates her hips, slowly playing with his body, stoking the tender flames of her arousal.

“Mesh’la… you’re going to kill me.”

“This is taking a lot for him.” Sev agrees, amusement evident in his low baritone.

She leans back, resting on his thighs, and really takes him in- the way the muscles in his neck are strained and pulled taut with the exertion of simply holding himself back, the way his pupils are blown so wide his chocolate-brown eyes are as dark as space. Her fingers trace tentatively over his stomach and she delights in the way the muscles jump at her touch.

“I want this to go on forever.”

“We can do this however you want.” Maker bless him. Even as tense as he is, he’s still looking out for her. She rises back to her knees, rocks her body along the length of him and doesn’t hold back the breathless sigh that escapes. No, forever would have to wait for another day. She wants him too badly to deny herself anymore.

She worries her bottom lip between her teeth as she rises a little higher. Scorch wordlessly grips the base of his cock. Slowly she begins to settle herself back onto him. The head of his cock nudges past her slick folds and lines himself up with her entrance. Slowly, breathtakingly slowly, she begins to lower her body onto him, the thick blunt head seizing her breath in her lungs .

The feeling of intrusion, of fullness, is overwhelming. She stops for a moment, and then Sev is behind her, his mouth traveling along the bare plane of her shoulder.

“Breathe, Princess.” And then “good girl” when she exhales shakily. She reaches back until her fingers circle around the back of his head, holding him close. Sev didn’t do close, he didn’t cuddle. She’s got just enough clear thought left to absorb every second of it she can.

Scorch’s thumbs massage circles into her hip bones as she rises up and begins to sink further down on his cock. Again and again she rises and falls, taking a little more with each time. There’s a soft burn between her thighs as her body adjusts to the stretch. She knows now why they’d plotted before. Her center is slick and soft, prepped by Sev’s mouth and thick fingers. She was ready for what had been about to come.

She’d alway expected her first time to be fraught with pain, but the only discomfort she feels hovers on the side of pleasure. Settling in, her body finally comes to rest against his. They both pant lightly.

Jessa rests, adjusting to the feeling of her commando, her Scorch, seated fully inside her. The veins in his neck stand at attention as he sends a huff of hot air from between his lips.

‘So good, Jess. Mesh’la. Our Mesh’la.’

Sev presses against her back, his mouth mapping a course from behind her ear down to her shoulder. She presses a hand flat against Scorch’s belly for support while the other clings to the man behind her. Her nails dig lightly into Sev’s scalp and he hums his approval before nipping at her skin.

With a centering breath she slowly begins to move, rocking her pelvis, grinding down against the commando beneath her. Behind her, Sev grinds his own clothed arousal against the curve of her ass.

“Fierfek…” Scorch curses under his breath as his hands settle over her rocking hips. “You feel like a dream.”

This is so much better than any dream. No fantasy, nor any scene from a holonovel, even begins to compare to the feeling of her boys, one inside her and the other losing his mind wishing he were. Sweat beads between her shoulder blades, and she feels Sev’s tongue there to capture it as it falls. Scorch thrusts up underneath her and she whimpers out his name as her focus shifts.

“Imma need your eyes on me.”

Jessa opens eyes she hadn’t realized were closed and inhales sharply. He’s intent and focused beneath her, thrusting up in time with her rocking. His eyes are dark pools that invite her to lose herself in their depths. His name comes out as a keening whine.

“There’s our girl,” he mutters, smile strained. “Fek, I love feeling you bounce on my cock.” A hand grips her hip and another comes to rest over her mons, his thumb dipping down to find her arousal-slick clit. The rough pad of his thumb circles gently, syncing with the breathless little sounds she makes

“Scorch… Cyare…”

“Fek,” he grips her hip and fucks up into her. “Say it again.”

‘Cyare, more. Harder.’ She demands and he complies, a feral glint in his eyes as they both race towards their climax together. His thumb doesn’t cease its determined circles over her clit.

Sev groans behind her, but she can’t split her focus from the man beneath her. Arousal, desire, and love swirl in her chest, filing her until she’s sure she might burst.

“Scorch I’m close… I’m…”

“That’s right, come for me.” He grits out a desperate noise through clenched teeth. “That’s right. Let me feel you.”

His body tenses, back arching like a hunter's bow pulled tight as she spirals higher and higher until she detonates into a million sparkling stars. Beneath her, Scorch’s strong hands lift her off his cock moments before he growls out his own release. There’s no time to breathe, because Sev’s rough hand is pushing between her shoulder blades, laying her over his brother who is still pulsing ropes of hot come between them, and then he’s sliding deep into her from behind. She squeals as he fucks her through the after shocks of her own orgasm, pumping a dozen times until he’s pulling out and spilling onto her lower back.

The sound of heavy breathing fills the room as they each try to catch their breath. Scorch’s hands tangle in her hair as his lips crack into a grin. Jessa follows, pressing her forehead to his as they both start to laugh. Sev flops down next to the pair and joins in with a low chuckle of his own.

"So much for being clean."

translations

vod/vod’ika- comrade/brother/sister

Hut’unn- coward (a severe insult)

buy’ce-helmet

Haar’chak-damn it

Osik- shit

Buir- parent

Dala- female/woman

aglist: @bylightofdawn @leias-left-hair-bun @skdubbs @passionofthesith @haloangel391 @fractiouskat @peacelandbread @clonewarslover55 @cherry-cokes-world @nelba @jedi-mando @shadylightbearherring @poppunkdee @iamassbuttkingofhell

@royalhandmaidens @wolfswing @lockbox22 @generic-geek-girl @captainrexwouldnever @kesskirata @ahhrenata @apathetic-catastrophie @littledragonlady @my-own-oracle

#republic commando #soul lies #clan vau #delta squad #clone commando sev #clone commando scorch #walon vau

19 notes · View notes