Half the jobs Fox is sent on are not within his jurisdiction. This certainly isn’t.
Planetary protection unit, they said. Military police. Orbital security force.
And now Fox is being pointed at Count Dooku on some backwater planet and told to fetch. How the mighty have fallen.
He’s pretty sure Kenobi, Skywalker and their units could’ve karked this all up perfectly fine on their lonesome; they don’t need three Guardsmen there to watch them do it. But the Chancellor says jump and Fox surpressed the urge to bash his head in with a durasteel chair. So it goes.
Which is when things start going terribly, terribly wrong, of course.
“Is that Spinder?!”, Skywalker exclaims, arms wheeling out in the air wildly to try and catch his balance. “The Count fucks?!”
Across the room, Cody rips his helmet off, several shades redder than a baseline human should be. “The Count fucks my brother?!”
Two lightsticks hover uselessly in the air, Skywalker’s zig-zagging in a relentless hum with his gesturing. Fox stands stock-still, in the hope that maybe he’ll spontaneously turn invisible if he does. Around them, 501st and 212th troopers gape through helmets. Behind him, Nuisance gasps for air amidst screaming laughter.
Ping, went Fox’s comm unit, in that unmistakeable lascivious jingle sound. Ping, answered Count Dooku’s within a split second. Match found close by.
For a moment, Fox considers what it would be like to run at the Count’s lightsaber at full speed.
…not like that.
“Count”, Kenobi says, with a face like he’s bitten into a rotten fruit. Not that Fox knows what fruit tastes like. “This is a highly… unexpected development.” He fwoosh-es his lightsaber shut, obviously having given up on fighting. “I’d call it a conflict of interest, but I’m not sure that applies?”
“Oh, it’s gonna be a conflict of something, for sure”, Cody hisses, fists clenched at his sides. He looks about ready to boil over, with Crys and Waxer inching closer in preparation. “What have you done to my brother, you monster?!”
“I don’t think you want to know that, Commander”, Nuisance gasps out between barks of laughter, proving why he’s eternally Fox’s least favourite. Cody’s splotchy red complexion slowly fades into ghostly white as a sheen of horror settles over the room. “Thanks for the fancy chocolate bouquet last week, Count!”
Dooku, who has been thus far staring at the floor with an empty thousand-klick stare, looks up at that. Fox has seldom seen a man that defeated outside of the mirror, he has to admit - but shudders when he remembers exactly what the chocolates were for.
Oh Force, he’s sexted Count Dooku into buying him gifts. Does that make him a Seppie spy? Traitor by proxy?
“I feel”, says the Count, gravely, still holding his long red laserknife in a white-knuckled death-grip, “that I have been taken for a fool.”
“Uh”, says Fox, nervously. All eyes snap to him. Oh Force, oh Force, oh Force. They’re going to invent a whole new kind of decommissioning for this and name it after Fox.
“Is it really scamming if you actually get what you pay for?”, asks Grids, considering. Fox slowly pulls off his helmet just for the comforting feeling of burying his head in his gloved palms. The sounds of a struggle ensue, and Kenobi makes a choked-off noise. Maybe if he’s embarrassed enough he’ll give himself an aneurysm.
“Grandmaster, why are you paying people for naked pictures of themselves on the holonet?!” Kenobi asks, despairingly. “Aren’t you a little old for that?”
“Oi, no one said I was naked!”, Fox exclaims, head whipping up.
“So naked”, Nuisance laughs, palm thumping against the floor. He might be crying.
“I’m not decrepit”, the Count blusters, and Skywalker makes a gagging noise. “I have - there are needs, and they are perfectly natural!” It takes three troopers to restrain Cody from launching himself at the Count.
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”—ah. seems like mother goose has been playing around in your egg salad. if you won’t dance to that tune, I got others.”
honestly, the would you kindly scene is whatever to me*, code yellow is the more interesting violation/betrayal of the body because of how beautifully it escalates the Fontaine reveal/betrayal and shows how ugly some of those ‘locks and keys’ that Tenenbaum mentions are. not only have you been a tool in another man’s hand this entire time, it goes deeper. your body is not your own.
*there used to be a meandering thought here about the would you kindly scene, but it was really just talking around the fact that I spent way too many years seeing people discuss it in the most insufferable and reductive ways possible when it’s a combination of three or four other things that make that moment compelling lmao
collage credits: heart one/heart two
⭐ places I’m at! bsky / pixiv / pillowfort /cohost / cara.app / tip jar!
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phrases that flood my mind with dominant femme euphoria when i say them <3
“stretch that wet pussy around my fingers, baby”
“who’s my good boy?”
“awww are you gonna cry?”
“get on your knees.”
“what was that?”
“show me your tongue.”
“you got my fingers wet. open your mouth.”
“beg for it. you can do better than that.”
“you’re mine, aren’t you?”
“just a stupid little brainless toy for me, isn’t that right.”
“i want your lips wrapped around my clit. now.”
“use your words. louder.”
“moan for me. mmm just like that. again.”
“do i need to fill your mouth or can you be a good girl and keep it shut?”
“curl that tongue for me.”
“you can take more.”
“keep talking like that and you’re going to get smacked.”
“i’m going to clench around you, and you’re going to fuck me harder. i’m going to milk that cock and you will not stop pumping into me, do you understand? say yes.”
“cum for me.”
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