#holonovel ( .｡.:*☆ night shift. )

[badbatchsprincess]

Heated ~ pt.14

Pt.1 ~ Pt.2 ~ Pt.3 ~ Pt.4 ~ Pt.5 ~ Pt.6 ~ Pt.7 ~ Pt.8 ~ Pt.9 ~ Pt.10 ~Pt.11 ~ Pt.12 ~ Pt.13 ~ Pt.14 ~ Pt.15 ~ Pt.16 ~ Pt.17 ~ Pt.18 ~ Pt.19 ~ Pt.20 ~ Pt.21 ~ Pt.22 ~ Pt.23 ~ Pt.24 ~ Pt.25

Masterlist

Summary: This is an ABO Bad batch!Poly x Omega Reader smut with a plot. This takes place as an AU before order 66. Y/N previously served under the 501st before being transferred to Special Forces 99. This is her adventure with these rowdy Alphas in a quickly changing universe.

THIS IS AN ABO AU ABOUT THE BAD BATCH (NO CANON OMEGA!) Due to the unfortunate situation of her name being Omega… Omega the child from the canon series is not going to be apart of this fanfic/porn with a plot. I feel obligated to put this warning in because it makes my skin crawl thinking anyone could make that mistake. 

Warnings: Literally only smut.... smut. smut. smut. It's Hunter's night, and Tech's night.... enjoy bbs... oh ya and some bondage! TeeHee

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Another rainy day on Ord Mantel. You sighed leaning against the window watching the droplets dowse the entire city. You liked it a lot you realized. It made the city lights glow in their neon colors and air was always cleaner the next day. It made Ord Mantel somewhat beautiful, which seemed impossible… except the little moments like this.

It’s been two weeks since the boys started working for Cid… and it was going… alright.

She had decided it was best to post you all up in the apartment above the bar as long as you helped her with the chores around the place and helped serve the customers when they’d meander in. It covered your rent, she said. You were starting to think she just liked having the company around. It gave you good cover though while the boys ran odd jobs. 

You and the others decided it would be best to keep you away from potential spies and bounty hunters. You didn’t have a problem staying at Cid’s, the deal worked out fine anyways, and it could be so much worse. 

After a long day scrubbing the bar down with soap for the first time in probably months, you were pooped. You had taken a long relaxing shower before curling up in the circular window over looking the main street. You had created a little nest there, where you kept your snacks within reach and your holonovel near by. The boys said they’d be home soon so you were just trying to kill the time instead of eagerly waiting. 

They had been sent to rescue an ex separatist senator to Echo’s dismay. You were wondering how that was going while you read through the filthy smut on your holo screen. You could only imagine the chaos these boys were bringing to this unsuspecting plant. 

The schedule system seemed to be working well too. If they were able, you’d spend the day with all of them. Echo resumed your combat training in the back courtyard behind Cid’s place, and at night you’d spend it with your alphas. 

Echo says you’re making good progress. Though it didn’t really feel like it. You think he just likes wacking you around with a stick for fun. The others sometimes would join in giving you someone to spar with. Wrecker obviously was the most difficult. There was no possible option where you could ever gain the upper hand with him. 

Echo had you graduate to fighting with various make shift weapons. Cid’s broom handle, a durasteel pipe, and a dull knife from the bar. It was exhilarating and part of you was really starting to like it.

You hadn’t realized how good of a teacher Echo was. He says it’s because he had extra training himself when he was a shiny. He was really able to help you strengthen your punches to the point that Hunter would actually shift backwards a bit now when you’d strike. It was giving you some hope you’d actually be able to hold your own soon.

You flexed your hands noticing the small scabs forming on your knuckles. With a sigh you set your novel and looked back out at the street watching the speeders zoom by pedestrians trying to get out of the rain. 

At some point, you must have dozed off, as you woke up to the sound of your door opening and a freshly showered Hunter comes walking in looking refreshed. It was his night after all. 

You smiled and stretched trying to wake yourself up like a lazy tooka.

“What time is it?” You asked realizing it was dark outside now and the city lights were glowing through your window.

“We just ate dinner, thought I’d bring some up for you.” He walked over giving you a tray with some delicious smelling tip-yip. You squealed in excitement and sat up grabbing the spork suddenly feeling awake. 

He walked in front of your mirror running his hands through his damp hair trying to push it out of his eyes while you dug in.

“You smell good.” You put a piece of food into your mouth liking the way he smelled after a shower. It was so undoubtably Hunter and it made you feel so safe. 

He smiled flashing his k9s at you, “You’re the one that smells good mesh’la.” 

You tapped your lips and he huffed a laugh before walking over and bending down to press a kiss to your mouth. You smiled kissing him again before going back to your meal. 

He flopped down on your bed in the corner giving a big sigh and a stretch himself. 

“How was the mission?” You asked mid-chew. 

“Exhausting.” He sighed feeling himself start to relax into your soft bed.

You giggled, “Saving separatist scum is too hard for sarge?” Your baby voice made him scowl. 

“It seems that the separatists and anyone not in line with the empire is on the same side now.” He rubbed his eyes, “everything is different now.” 

“That we can agree on.” You shoved another bite in, “I got to hang out with a too flirty Gungan today who absolutely has a drinking problem. Told me his wife found out about his girlfriend.”��

“Quite a day for you huh ad’ika?” Hunter played along with the dramatics. 

You nodded, “Mhmm. I’m doing really hard work while you’re all gone.” You shrugged with a playful smirk. 

“You poor thing.” He used his baby voice making you giggle.

Eating your last piece of tip-yip, you set the tray aside before walking over to Hunter and climbing onto the bed to straddle him. 

“I missed you.” You leaned down kissing both his cheek bones. 

“Mmm.” He hummed running his hands up your sides, “Not as much as I missed you.” 

“Show me.” You smirked running your hands over his firm chest. 

Hunter gripped your hips before rolling both of you and pinning you to the mattress. He smirked as he lowered himself to kiss you again this time a little hungrier. You smiled into his mouth feeling him press his hips into yours. You felt the hardness between his legs and you whimpered feeling the fluttering butterflies in your stomach and that familiar heat begin to pool in your lower belly. He gave a satisfied groan grinding into you liking the way you responded to him to prettily. 

He sat back on his heels, “up love.” He helped you sit up to peel your shirt from your body. He smirked realizing you didn’t have a bra on and leaned forwards to press you back into the mattress to leave a trail of kisses down your sternum before he licked one of your hardening nipples. You moaned pushing your chest further into him while he continued to lick and suck, making you arch your back into his hot mouth. He then went down to grab the waist band of your sweats and yank them down only pulling away from your tits to slide them off of your legs. 

You were just about to reach up for him again but he pushed your arms away before flipping you over onto your belly. 

“Alpha.” You whined pushing your ass up trying to make contact with him again desperate for the friction. 

“Shh adi’ka .” He soothed running his hands over your ass cheeks giving them a good squeeze before he brought his palm down spanking you. You yelped looking back at him already feeling the imprint of his hand welting up. He just gave you a playful smile before reaching into his waist band and pulled out his vibro blade. You sucked a breath in feeling the cold metal press to your skin. He slid the knife along your silky skin before sliding them under the waist band of your damp panties. 

“Such a good girl, omega.” With his other hand he ran his fingers over your core feeling the wetness soaking through your panties. You wiggled but he withdrew his fingers, “stay still for me mesh’la.” 

You huffed and willed yourself to stay still, but it was agony. He resumed his small strokes stroking your clit through the fabric of your panties while the knife continued upwards until he twisted the blade bringing the sharp side right through your panties, slicing them like butter. He growled finally seeing how wet you were already. He chucked the blade and you watched it fly across the room before impaling into the wall before driving his finger into you. 

You let out a loud moan feeling him start a consistent rhythm before adding another thick finger stretching you.  You wriggled against him desperate to be filled even more. It was starting to feel so delicious you were certain he could feel you start to clench down on him. 

He withdrew his fingers and sat up slightly to kick your knees apart and lift your ass up in the air. He shoved down his trousers and grabbed his throbbing cock stoking git a few times before lining himself up with your aching cunt. You pushed yourself back against him feeling his tip push inside. You moaned as he surged forwards until he was flush with your ass. You cried out finally feeling the relief of him filling you. Hunter was thick, and he was so, so hard. You mewled as Hunter set the sturdy pace. 

…You loved the way Hunter fucked…

He was so deliberate making sure his strokes were steady and hitting that yummy spot inside you that made your toes curl with every stroke. He also couldn’t seem to get enough of your creamy cunt. He groaned every time he could hear just how wet you are with every thrust. You think it’s because of his heightened senses, he could probably feel and her every tremor your body made as he pleasured you and you knew it drove him wild. He could probably sense every beat of your heart, and scent the small changes in your scent that let him know you were enjoying yourself.

You tried to push yourself up onto your hands but he grabbed the back of your neck pinning you back down, “take it, omega.” He snarled feeling you clench around his cock. You moaned loudly certain the others could heard you as Hunter pounded even harder. The only sound in the room was your squelching and the slap of skin on skin. 

Hunter wasn’t always outwardly dominant, but everyone and awhile his alpha side trickled through and it made your entire body sing. 

He pushed himself as far in as possible, mesmerized by the jiggle plush of your ass against his lap. He sighed shaking his head still unable to believe he was able to have the omega of his dreams. Your scent was making him get lost in the fog of lust.

“Fuck, pretty girl,” He slid his hand from your neck to the roots of your hair where he tugged making you whine, “do you have any idea how perfect you look? M’fuck, you were made for me mesh’la.” 

“Alpha…. Ahh!” You whined as he brought his hand down onto your ass again hearing the slap ring out into the room. You moaned feeling the warming sting again making you drip down your thighs as you took Hunter as best as you could despite his roughness. 

Gripping onto your hair, he pulled you up straight arching you agains this chest as he fucked you on his lap. You gripped onto his thighs absolutely loving this deliciously brutal pace. He was so deep inside you, you were starting to feel it in your stomach. You mewled feeling so damn good, so surrounded in his warmth and affection. It made you so happy.

He snaked his free hand down between your thighs to run slow meticulous circles bringing you to the edge. You clawed at his muscular thighs as you begged him not to stop feeling like you were going to cum. He smiled into the crook of your neck licking your mating gland and you shivered feeling yourself hurtle over the edge. 

You let out a scream as Hunter’s fingers threw you over the edge. Your orgasm wracked through your body leaving you spent and shaking. He released your hair and wrapped his arm around your middle keeping you to his chest as he continued to thrust, feeling himself start to cum. 

“Fuck.” He bit out. You felt him twitch inside you before his hips stilled and he spilled himself inside you. 

You went limp against his chest hearing the rapid beating of his heart against your cheek. He pressed lazy kisses on all the skin he could reach before leaning forwards and gently guiding you down onto the mattress. He pulled out of you slowly making you groan at the empty feeling. 

You felt his cum drip out of you, as he got up to grab something to clean you up with. When he came back from the bathroom, he had a damp washcloth to clean up your thighs and then himself before he tossed it to the side. Hunter curled up next to you pulling the sheets up to cover the two of you. You rolled over wanting to lay on his chest which he was happy to comply with. 

He tilted your chin up for a kiss before letting you settle against him while he caught his breath. 

You purred feeling satiated and tingly. 

“I have my heat in a few weeks.” You said quietly knowing he could hear your whisper. 

“We’ll need to make sure you get another implant after huh?” He said running his fingers through your hair. 

You nodded, “How will that work, same like last time?” 

“It’s whatever you want mesh’la, if you want all of us we’ll do that, or if you just want one of us we understand that too.” He kissed your forehead. 

“Okay.” You smiled tracing the skeleton tattoo on his ribs with your finger. 

“Who did your tattoo?” You asked. 

“Crosshair.” He looked down at his arm, “He has a steadier hand than the others.” 

“Did you do his?” You smiled poking him in the side. 

“No, he did that on his own.” Hunter grabbed your hand before you could tickle him and pressed it to his mouth with a kiss. 

“Should I get a tattoo?” You asked jokingly. 

“If that’s you want sweetheart.” He pinched your cheek lightly. 

You nuzzled into his side breathing him in. His scent was so warming and calming it made you feel like you were at home. The past two weeks had been interesting. You were sad Crosshair wasn’t with you anymore, but the burning agony wasn’t there anymore at least from what you could tell. It was like he was on a vacation and while you missed his presence, it didn’t seem as devastating as it might actually be. It was strange. 

The only thing you worried about was being found. You didn’t know what the empire wanted with you, and frankly you didn’t want to find out… there was a tinge of anxiety that seemed impossible to dispel. 

Hunter did a really good job of making you feel safe though. If anyone could make you disappear, it would be these boys. 

“I can feel you thinking.” He mumbled with his eyes closed. 

You squeezed him a little tighter, “I’m just thankful for you, thats all.” 

He smiled and leaned down to kiss you again. 

“My sweet little ‘mega.” He whispered, “We should get some sleep mesh’la, I know Echo wants you up and early.” 

“Ugh.” You ran your hands up and down his chiseled abs, “Can’t you just tell him I’m tired and we can stay in bed?” 

“No chance sweetheart, you look too good in those tight pants.” He chuckled. 

You sighed and relented, securing your legs around his before closing your eyes and settling in. You just hoped the rain let up before Echo expected you in that courtyard. 

~~~

Well you were wrong. The only word to describe your current state was… soggy. 

You squeezed the water from your hair before twisting it up on top of your head to keep the loose strands out of your eyes. 

“Echo please, I’m begging that we go inside.” You shivered. This was reminding you of Kashyyyk, even though that was significantly not as wet. 

“Nope.” He squared up raising his wrapped fists, “You gotta get used to being uncomfortable.” 

You pouted, “But omegas like comfort and warm things.” You groused. This was so not your element. 

“It’s a changing universe Tiny, gotta make sure you’re ready for anything.” He gave his arms a little shake, flinging droplets, before getting into a fighting stance. 

You mirrored him even though your mind was on sitting by the fire in the apartment warm and dry. You looked to Wrecker and the others who sat under a fabric covering staying dry, “Please Alphas.” You begged with your best pup eyes.

Wrecker and Hunter looked like they were on the verge of folding but Tech crossed his arms, “You heard Echo. Again Pip.” 

Strict as always… you sighed locking into Echo’s movements. Fine…A fight it will be.

You waited for Echo to make the first move. He lunged forwards, giving you a small window to sneak under his arm, and land a punch to his side. 

He hunched over, stunned you had juked him out. When he tried to retaliate you used your small size to out maneuver them. Over the weeks of the training with them, you learned that due to their size they moved slightly slower than you could. They were strong, but your small size allowed to quicker jabs. 

When he was spinning around to pursue you, you used your foot to kick up one of the sparing sticks into your hand swinging the metal pipe at him. He dodged it before grabbing his own. 

“Good. Use what’s around you.” Hunter coached from the side. 

Echo brought down the pipe but you blocked it in time. The rain was making the concrete slippery so you decided to duck down and swing the pipe low catching Echo’s boot. You knocked the ARC trooper down onto his back and pointed the weapon at him. He surrendered giving you the victory. 

“I’m going inside now.” You poked him with the stick before tossing it to the side. When you were just about to enter the back of the bar, Echo grabbed you from behind hauling you up into the air. 

“Echo!” You screamed trying to wriggle out of his grasp. 

“C’mon Tiny.” He growled holding steady despite your squirming. 

With a growl, you brought your feet up in the air before thrusting them down changing the weight distribution and rolled the two of you into the nearby crates. You were able to get away from him but he grabbed your boot and tugged you back forcing you to slide across the ground through the dirty puddles. 

You kicked at him freeing up your boot before rolling back to your feet. 

“That was a dirty trick.” You looked down at all the muck on your shirt. 

“Gotta make sure you’re ready.” He laughed wiping mud from his cheek. 

“How’s she doing?” The trandoshan stepped outside observing from the doorway. 

“She’s improving significantly.” Tech kept his eyes on you scrutinizing your every move. 

“Good, because I’m going to need her to cover some shifts later.” Cid waved her claws in the air before going back inside to avoid the rain. 

You groaned but put your fists back up prepared for Echo’s next attack. This was going to be a long day.

~~~

“Are you alright dear?” Tech watched you limp into the bedroom looking exhausted. You nodded before turning into the bathroom to turn on the shower. You smelled like alcohol and bar snacks. You just wanted to feel the hot water and scrub until you smelled like soap. You heard Tech outside the bathroom walking around, and you started to strip down before stepping into the steaming shower to wash the day off. 

You did everything you wanted to, scrubbed, washed, exfoliated. You felt glorious getting out. Even the soreness in your muscles from training were feeling better. You grabbed your favorite body oils and began getting to work moisturizing yourself. It was such a relief. 

When you stepped out you found Tech in his boxers reading something on his data pad. You tightened your robe and made your way over to him suddenly feeling a little warm looking at all of this taut defined muscles. He was so tall, just like Crosshair. They almost seemed like twins at times. You just wanted to sink your teeth into him he looked so good.

“Alpha?” You asked softly getting his attention. 

He looked up from his screen noticing your loosening robe. 

“Can you massage my back for me? Echo really did me in.” You said lowering the shoulder of the robe showing him your bare skin. You were dying for Tech’s skilled hands. You watched him fix too many things on the marauder not to think about them all the time. Often when you were alone, you would think about how good they’d feel on you… or in you. 

“Take off your robe and lay down cyare.” He watched you untie the robe and drop it to the ground revealing your glistening oiled body. He swallowed thickly feeling himself start to harden at the site of you. You crawled up onto the bed laying down face first into the plush. 

He got up to grab the lotion off the nightstand before squeezing some into his hands. He warmed it between his fingers before pressing them gently into your back before spreading it around making sure to get every spot… then he went to work. His fingers massaged every muscle and tendon making you absolutely turn to putty. 

You were moaning and groaning when he worked down your legs making sure to thoroughly give you an entire body rub down. It felt so damn good. His skilled hands were one of your favorite things in the entire universe. 

“Alpha… you’re so good at that.” You whined as he worked a particularly tight muscle in your shoulder. 

“We might be working you too much.” He sighed feeling how tight your entire body is under his dexterous fingers. 

“Echo was particularly rough today.” You sighed. 

He chuckled, “Sometimes, I think we forget you’re not engineered like we are.” 

You huffed, “You’re telling me.” 

He continued to rub further down to your lower back where some new muscles were forming and you whined as his thumbs pushed and pulled the aching tendons. 

“Cyare…” He leaned down so his lips were right by your ear, “I want to try something new tonight if you’re open.” 

That peaked your interest. 

You cracked open an eye to look up at him, “What did you have in mind?” 

“Well with all these new credits I decided to head out to that sex shop on fifth street, I picked up a few things I think you might find interesting.” 

You sat up on your elbows feeling your insides start to flutter with anticipation, “What things?” You bit your lip.  

He pushed his glasses up and got up off the bed before reaching into his pack. He pulled out a red bag and walked back over to the bed. 

“Go on.” He held the shopping bag out for you to investigate. 

You stuck your hand inside feeling something soft. When you pulled it out you realized you were holding a roll of red satin ropes. You gasped and looked up at Tech. He nodded towards the bag, “There’s one more thing.” 

You reached inside again grabbing something smooth. When you pulled it out you were confused at first, until Tech turned it on and it started to vibrate. It was a black and gold vibrator. 

“Are you open to trying these cyare?” He looked at you and lightly skimmed your chin with his fingers, “You can also say no. I won’t take it personally.” He always gave you an out. You, Crosshair, and Tech had agreed to use the color system a while back, and Tech definitely stuck to it. 

You chewed your lip and looked back up at him, “Green.” You answered. 

He smiled before switching into dom alpha mode. 

“On your knees.” He commanded and you shivered sitting back on your heels. 

“Use your colors.”  He reminded while grabbing the crimson ropes. You nodded and watched him double up the soft strands before bringing the center loop to your neck as he began to expertly tie the knots. 

You watched him as he skillfully bound your arms behind your back careful not to touch your skin much, the angle was a little uncomfortable at first, but the more he tied the more secure you started to feel and the pain ebbed away and the heat start to enter your blood. 

He then tied a couple more well placed knots squeezing your tits together making you squirm wanting more. 

“Tech.” You sighed starting to feel restless wanting him to touch you. 

“Color cyare.” He looked at you with lust blown eyes. He was very satisfied with his work. 

“Green.” You said locking into the tent in his trousers. 

“Can I record you mesh’la?” He ran his finger tips over the ropes still not touching you. 

You nodded, “Yes Alpha.”

“Such a good girl.” He touched the side of his goggles and you noticed the little flashing red light turn on letting you know the camera was recording. 

He knelt over you gently taking you into his arms before laying you down on your back. You whimpered at just the slightest touch of his warm hands. You desperately wanted more, but you knew you were going to have to work for it. 

You were forced to lay slightly on your side to keep the weight off your hands, but it seemed to give Tech the desired effect. He was staring at you like a starving man. Your cunt clenched around nothing and you were sure he caught that on camera. It made you blush.

“Let me look at you.” He placed both hands on your knees rolling you onto your back totally at his mercy. 

He spread your legs wide, revealing your dripping cunt. Wet all for him. You were mesmerized by the look in his eyes, that hunger. It was making you even more horny knowing you were doing this to him. It was longer a want, but a need to have his hands back on you.

He ran a selfish hand through your folds collecting some of the wetness but avoiding the place you wanted him the most. He was testing you, to see if you’d complain and get bratty with him. 

You usually did under Crosshair’s influence, but you were too desperate for him to touch you to even go there. You just wanted to be a good girl for Tech tonight and submit to him without a fight.

You stared up at him with glossy eyes as he scanned every part of your tied body. He took special time showing off his handy work behind your back. He even rolled you over to record the details and get a good shot of your round ass. 

“So beautiful Mesh’la.” He massaged the cheek that still held Hunter’s hand print from the night before. He seemed to take a bit of an interest in it, massaging it himself. You were breathing heavy now, hoping he’d take mercy on you and make you cum. 

“Thank you alpha.” You groaned feeling his fingers trail dangerously close to the apex of your thighs. 

“Look at you, not even bratting tonight.” You could hear the smirk in his voice, “Is this all it takes for you to behave?” He tugged at the rope around your wrist with a slender finger. 

You whined in response. 

Usually he’d demand you use your words but he was getting impatient even for himself. Between the massage earlier and now this. You allowing him to fulfill one of his favorite fantasies had him desperate to feel you cumming around him. As Crosshair would say, it’s one for “the spank bank.”

He ripped off his shirt throwing it to the side while pushing down his trousers leaving him bare. You strained to look at him, but the restraints forbade your movements. He chuckled and flipped you back over spreading you once again. 

“Now, darling, you’re going to cum for me as many times as I want before I fuck you full, do you understand cyare?” He picked up the vibrator holding it up for you and the camera to see. 

You nodded, “Yes, alpha.” 

“Good. Let’s begin.” He switched on the toy and slowed it down to your clit making you hum. 

Immediately you were squirming around trying to push back against the ropes but obviously that wasn’t going to work. It was tiresome, but the look on Tech’s face made you even wetter. He looked like an animal with that determined squint. 

Tech’s cock twitched watching you writhe around under the little toy. He was so fixated on the way the ropes bit into your skin, he almost missed you cumming on the virbator. 

“One.” He counted keeping the toy on you as you rode out your orgasm. But then that turned into overstimulation and you started to wriggle around again trying to escape the vibrations. It was starting to feel like too much and you clenched down on nothing to your dismay. You desperately wanted to be filled.

“Ahh!” You whimpered feeling yourself quickly be thrown into another orgasm. You couldn’t believe it. You moaned as the pleasure washed over you, tingling all of your nerves. You had to remember to breathe letting your body try to relax a little.

“Two. Good omega.” He encouraged keeping the toy to your cunt, “Think I can make you squirt with just this?” He rubbed the toy around eliciting more cries. You flinched when he’d trace over a certain spot making you cry out for him. 

“Doing so good cyare, I want one more. Can you do that for me omega?” He looked down at you with a stern look. You looked up at him with bleary glossy eyes trying to squirm away from the toy. 

“Y-yes.. sir. Yessir.” You threw your head back unsure if you’d be able to take another orgasm again so soon. You were desperate for a break, but you wanted to please your alpha and decided you’d do whatever he wanted. 

You greedily watched him fist himself and the drops of precum dripping from his flushed tip. The way his cock flushed as he stoked himself made you salivate. You ground your hips down onto the toy lost in your thoughts about licking him up. 

He watched you succumb to the lust as you chased your high with determination. He was purring knowing you were trying to please him, it made him very, very happy. 

“Almost there omega.” He was watching your movements stutter before you tried arching back as you came hard. 

Tech smiled proudly and withdrew the toy letting you release a massive sigh. You twitched as the aftershocks rolled through you and you squeezed your thighs together trying to calm yourself. 

“My perfect girl.” He praised leaning down, “I just have to have a taste cyare.” He gave you a few licks making you cry out before sloppily making out with your cunt. 

You moaned enjoying the warmth and softness of his wet mouth it was a soothing contrast to the vibrating toy. It was so delicious you ground down into him as best as you could from your angle. Just as quickly as he started, he pulled away to kneel over you. You watched him spit on his own cock rubbing the wetness around before sliding down to tease your entrance. 

“Alpha!” You whined feeling the warmth radiating into you. 

“Shh, omega.” He cooed before surging forwards watching himself disappear into you inch by inch. You cried out with joy finally feeling the glorious stretch you craved so much. 

“Fuck!” You yelped as he started to thrust making you purr in delight. 

Tech focused in on getting a rhythm going watching how you bounced up and down the mattress and the way your bound tits jiggled between the knots. It was going to make him cum. He had to close his eyes and focus on not coming so fast despite how absolutely utterly perfect you looked tied up like this. It was glorious. You were the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on.

“Fuck baby.” He pulled out suddenly deciding he couldn’t take it anymore. You whined feeling empty but he just picked you up setting you down on the floor next to the bed kneeling you on a discarded pillow before pressing his soaked cock to your lips. 

You smiled and greedily took him into your mouth letting him grab the sides of your face before he started fucking your throat. 

You felt the subspace creeping up on you as you settled into his pace being mindful to breathe while you relaxed your jaw and throat muscles. The grunts and whines Tech were letting out fed the needy omega in you. Alpha was happy. You were making alpha happy. 

It made your entire body flutter. 

The next thing you knew, Tech was pulling out and splattering his cum on your cheek and across the bridge of your nose while the two of you breathed heavily. 

He looked down at you in slight shock before coming to his senses and shutting off the camera to kneel down in front of you. 

“I’m so sorry cyare.” He grabbed his discarded shirt and wiped your face, “I shouldn’t have done that.” His eyes were filled with concern. 

“Hmm?” You looked up at him with bleary eyes as he cleaned you, “It’s alright alpha.” You smiled softly trying to ease him. 

He rubbed your jaw affectionately studying you. When he realized you were heavy into subspace, he sighed and picked you up placing you onto the bed knowing talking won’t help much.

“You did so good for me omega.” He praised while untying the knots carefully. He took extra care rubbing the areas with indent marks with his thumb soothingly. You preened under his ministrations feeling yourself start to free up from the confines of the rope. 

You stretched before clinging to Tech. He removed the last of the rope before using his soiled t-shirt to clean between your legs and settle you into the covers. You kept mindlessly reaching for him, whining when he had to clean up the space a bit, removing any objects from the bed. 

Tech curled around you surrounding you in warmth, “I’m so proud of you, cyare. You did so fucking good.” He pressed a kiss to your hair. You rolled over and looked at him before pressing into his mouth for a real kiss. 

He melted into you instantly and you smiled. He kept kissing you like he couldn’t get enough of it. 

“Thank you alpha.” You whispered snuggling into his chest. 

“Now, get some rest cyare. You’ve earned it.” He petted your hair soothing you into much needed sleep. 

Uhh yeah... so that just happened bahaha...

Anyways - I wonder what Crosshair is doing right about now...

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Taglist: @substantial-exposure

@rains-on-kamino

@minimissmoo

@z-and-the-batboys

@aynavaano

@9902sgirl

@sideofhorny

@sxftiebee

[littlemissmanga]

CT-2460 "Corkscrew" Intro & SFW Alphabet

Hey all! It's been a hot minute :) I'm trying to get back into my writing grove to get into my WIP list, but it's been hard. Brain isn't braining but stress is stressing.

So rather than fight the brain fog and get frustrated over lack of writing progress, I'm shifting gears to introduce (finally) my latest OC, Corkscrew.

Called "Cor" by his close brothers, Corkscrew is a pilot in Shadow Squadron. He's an adrenaline junkie, and definitely follows the Anakin Skywalker school of flying. But at the heart of all his daring do's is his love for his brothers and his commitment to keeping them safe.

That's evident by the fact that his recklessness doesn't carry over off the battlefield. In fact, Cor is pretty chill. He's not easily provoked and he's really open minded. He's competitive and playful in a soft way. He'll tease his brothers but he's not a shitstirrer.

And fun fact, he is dyslexic but can visualize a battlefield in 3D, which helps with his flying. Hence why the Kaminoans didn't mind the the "irregularity."

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

On average, I'd say Cor is pretty affectionate, and his main way of showing that is through physical touch. He knows he can lose his brothers (or they can lose him) at any time. So a hand on a shoulder or a nudge isn't out of the ordinary for him.

Every so often, if you catch him in a serious moment where he's deep in thought, he'll verbalize that affection. But that is much less common. Corkscrew knows how to speak louder with his actions.

But receiving? Words of affirmation. Despite speaking louder with his actions, Corkscrew is still unprepared and overwhelmed in the best way when someone shows affection to him verbally or praises him. It's so new and yet it's something he feels to his core (pun intended).

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Corkscrew is your ride or die. Need someone at 3am? No questions? Corkscrew. No platitudes, no nothing. He'll just be there, for you, any time, any place.

He won't give his opinion on things unless you ask OR you're genuinely going to hurt yourself. Otherwise, it's your life, you gotta live it. He just wants to be along for the ride.

A friendship with him is easy to start, as he's pretty affable - chatting at a bar or getting introduced through one of his brothers. And he'd go out of his way to help even a new friend. If Cor sees you as someone genuine, as an equal friend who meets him where he's at as he does you, then he'll feel comfortable deepening the relationship to close friends.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

FUCK YES. So naturally, as he expresses love most easily through physical touch, cuddles are very high on his "yes please I love it" list. He would cuddle his batchmates growing up and once he got comfortable with Shadow Squadron, he grew the habit of resting his head on Matchstick's shoulder and cuddle into his big brother's side or back. It really grounds him in a good way and gives him a sense of peace. (He does it to most of his squad mates but Matchstick is who he is closest to).

He read on a contraband holonovel that nat-born couples cuddle like this to fall asleep every night and that's when that little seed was planted in his heart. He wants that. The idea of feeling someone he loves around him every night? The thought that holding someone and showing his love in such a natural way for him is desired in the wider galaxy (esp when not all his brothers love his cuddles) just floors him.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He wants it. He wants it so bad, but he doesn't let himself. First because he knows that, as long as he's in the GAR, it's unlikely to happen so he shouldn't get his hopes up. Second because Cor acknowledges that what he wants is that unique special connection most of all and he tries so hard to redirect that to his brothers. It doesn't always work, but it's enough.

As for actual domestic work, Cor keeps things pretty clean, but a messy partner would through him for a loop. I can see him getting overwhelmed because "I didn't make this mess, where does any of this go!?"

He cannot cook to save his life besides making a sandwich. Please get that man away from your oven.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Mostly by not starting it. He's really aware of how much it could hurt if it all goes wrong, and the risk to his brothers pushes him into the "not now" category.

But if he did start a secret fling and had to end it, he would be up front and honest in person. No lies about how he doesn't care. He knows it'll hurt and those lies protect no one. So blunt honestly about how much he loves you, and how angry he is that this is reality. But he will not keep hurting you or himself.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

In an AU where the war ends and clones get rights, then he really lets himself think it through for the first time. He'll be fine with the commitment aspect, but he would also wait a while before popping the question. He's patient and will want to be absolutely sure before committing.

But following canon, he's really not likely to propose. He'll be hesitant to enter a relationship knowing he can't really commit as his first obligation is to the GAR and his brothers. And while the right person could convince him to date in secret, he would never ask for their commitment to him when he can't return the same.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

To himself? Cor is a bit rough. He knows what he can handle and tolerate and will often push that limit for what he considers the greater good. That's physically, emotionally and mentally. Like the time he jumped from a fighter in order to kick some spider droids off Broadside's wing mid battle and ended up with a torn ligament that needed a soak in bacta. Or the time when he immediately reported for duty despite working overnight to help another squad without telling anyone. Or when, after the Battle of Kamino, he took a rotation giving some of the more battle-worn bothers a compassionate ear, despite being pretty beaten down himself.

But when it comes to others, Cor is the most gentle. He is aware of the double standard but doesn't care. It's because he's reckless and harsh with himself that he is hyper aware of being gentle, kind, and welcoming to others. He keeps his harshest comments to himself (unless they need to be said for help or defense) and is always mindful and aware of himself physically to avoid being rough with others.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

For his brothers and friends, hugs can range from side hugs in greeting, to barely there embraces in passing - a brief "hey, still here; still love you" - to full on cuddles. Cor will hug often but usually not for super long.

It really is his way of saying "I love you." And because actually saying that on Kamino would have been .... not ideal, he's conditioned himself to just do it naturally.

With a partner, though, things would go to the next level. Are you home? With no plans? Perfect, you're in Corkscrew's lap. Or buried into his side on the couch. Or curled on top of him in bed. And, if he's really comfortable with you, you'll be big spooning him. (OMG being little spoon is SUCH a revelation to him). Like, unless there is a reason not to be hugging, ya'll are hugging.

His hugs are warm and restorative. Not possessive, per se, but they make you feel like you're right where you belong.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Very rarely. Almost never to his brothers since to him, I love you sounds like goodbye. It's what brothers say when they fall.

He'll feel love long before he verbalizes it. He's only ever said it to a few of his closest vod. To his partner? He'll say it after they do, but even then, it'll be a big moment. Like, an anniversary or something important like that. After that, it'll still be used sparingly so the right partner needs to be aware that he may not say it in words, but he says it in so many other ways.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Yes he does get jealous. He never thought of himself as a particularly jealous person, but trainers or older vod he really admired giving more attention to others always kinda rubbed him wrong. But the first time he meets someone he connects with romantically???? MASSIVE JEALOUSY.

But Cor is coolheaded and will think things through. He's patient. He's not one to fly off the handle or start a fight. He'll watch to see how his partner reacts to the person. He'll still step in after a while (admittedly a short while) because he really doesn't like not being the center of your attention. But he'll only address his partner directly and never be outright rude or aggressive about it unless the other person escalates things. (Though he may be cocky and snarky by actively not addressing the other person at all. Like it's obvious they're being annoyed. It's almost like he'd be ok with it turning into a fight, even if that's not his intention.) It's less about the other person and more about the fact that he wants to be as central to your world as you are to his.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

He doesn't really do platonic kisses, so that's out entirely.

For a partner, he goes with what he knows which at first is just on the lips. And he likes it. He really likes it. The intimacy of the act just does it for him. And if his partner lets out little hums and moans? He's in heaven. He loves the actual sensation of lips pressed to his and just the thought of knowing what you taste like. It's not until a partner kisses him first on his neck that he realizes how fun kisses can be elsewhere.

But to keep it PG, he'll usually default to a kiss on the lips for his partner any time he greets them or says goodbye. Every so often, he'll steal a kiss on your cheek in the middle of the day or in passing. And of course, he'll pepper small kisses on any skin he can reach when you're cuddling. If he's really in his feels about you, he'll pick up your hand and give that a kiss.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He's pretty good with kids. He never really spent much time with the cadets on Kamino after he was one, but his even temper and gentleness - and his cool kickass stories - make him very popular with kids. There are a few awkward moments the first time he really spends time with a little one, but he recovers quickly.

From the little experience he has, he does think about fatherhood in a positive light. It's not an end goal for him, but the idea of starting a family and raising a child with someone, having that bright energy in his life, is something that makes him warm and fuzzy.

What he can't handle is the chaos of a group of undisciplined children. He saw a bunch just being absolute menaces to their chaperones around Monument Plaza once and it was enough to make him question everything. His upbringing on Kamino may have been overly restrictive by nat-born standards, but he knows there is a happy medium that doesn't involve succumbing to the little terror's demands and screeches.

That's when he decides if he ever did marry and have a family, that the number of potential children gets capped at 2. No way will he willingly be outnumbered by his own creations.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Corkscrew is the kind of morning person who is so annoying. Not because he's chipper, but because it's like the morning doesn't phase him. There's no blinking sleep out of his eyes and slowly coming into consciousness for him. Nope, Cor is fully awake the moment his eyes open and he just goes about his day. Doesn't even need caf.

Mornings in the GAR will depend where his squad is at any time. But in an AU, he takes the slow quiet of the morning to get some personal tasks done before truly starting his day. A light breakfast (cereal because he knows his limits in the kitchen) and then he's getting through his core list to some music.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

In the GAR and on his own, Cor likes to use nights to decompress and be alone with his thoughts. He genuinely needs to wind down at the end of the day to be able to fall asleep. And growing up as he did, he appreciates a small bit of solitude to just focus on himself. It's the main time he can examine his own wants and needs without distraction.

But that doesn't mean he's a stick in the mud. He'll always be up for a night out at 79s or slightly illegal speeder racing (he just knows he'll likely be exhausted the next day) or even just hanging out with his brothers when the opportunity presents itself.

With a partner, it would pretty much be the same. Though if his partner were an introvert, then say goodbye lol. He'd go out with bros like once a month if that. If his partner wants to cuddle on the couch again, then he is 100% on board.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Cor is both open and closed off. Lemme explain.

There is virtually no difference in the way he'll treat close friends and new friends. He is open with his time, support, and energy right from the get go. And he'll reveal a lot about himself in this time - his preferences, his humor, his competitive side (which do not engage, he WILL win any challenge or die trying) all come through easily and naturally.

But there are two things about Corkscrew that only his closest loved ones know and he never even really opened up about them. More like these loved ones were close enough that Corkscrew didn't feel the need to push them down when they came up naturally. And they are...

How angry he can get when he feels like he's failed someone or someone he loves is going through something and he feels useless. All his gentleness and patience is gone. You're now looking at a born and bred soldier who only has one target.

Just how much he really does yearn for a normal, nat-born life.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

It takes A LOT to get this guy really fired up. Easiest is to threaten someone he cares about, insult his brothers, or question his commitment to the GAR and the Republic.

Even then, he won't lose control. He's three steps ahead and has thought through the most likely fight progressions and outcomes. His training kicks into high gear and he keeps an even head throughout.

He's also not very stubborn or hard headed, which makes it much easier for him to remain calm in new situations or when challenged by new information.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He'll remember the important things. Like, he is not going to off the top of his head remember everything you say in passing. But he'll write down when you mention what your favorite flower is and he'll take note if you tend to order the same thing at restaurants. He'll watch how you take care of yourself so he'll know how to do it when you can't. And he'll study that list of important things until they are second nature to him.

But like, you'll have to remind him of important events coming up in your life that wouldn't be on his radar usually and you'll have to remind him a few times (he's really not used to how nat-borns have to manage their own lives rather than having everything sorted by the GAR).

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Corkscrew is not in a relationship and has never been, so he has no favorite moment as of yet. But he is really just looking forward to connecting with someone in that true and deep way, so any moment when he feels that would qualify.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Oh so very protective but not in a prohibitive way. The man is an adrenaline junkie. He understands recklessness. But he's also reasonable and responsible and will channel any reckless urges partners and brothers have into safe versions.

Basically, Cor will let his loved ones spread their wings wide however they want ... he'll just be their shadow making sure they stay safe.

Sometimes he's too hands off or not concerned enough - because he's confident that he can protect everyone himself. If anything goes wrong in those cases, he really beats himself up for it afterward.

As for him being protected, he doesn't like it. It makes him feel uncomfortable. Not because it means he's weak. But because he views his entire purpose as being a protector, so the idea that someone else would do the same for him doesn't sit right as it takes away his purpose. Obviously his brothers watch his back in battle all the time, but that's a little different. If any of them took a hit for him, he'd not handle it well.

Similar for a partner. He's the protector. You're the protected. End of story. It is really the only position he will not budge on. There is no situation where he will be ok with you taking on risk to prevent the same of him.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Man tries SO HARD. Gives his all to everything all the time. How he has energy for it no one knows. It's a mystery and he just laughs at it.

He'll pick up extra duties on board if there's no action just to help out, and does his part at home, too.

(His closest brothers have ways to trick him into stopping for food or sleep because just telling him doesn't work unless you have the authority to stop him yourself. These tricks are because he has hurt himself before by pushing himself too far.)

And he's helped enough brothers plan special if not surreptitious dates for bothers before. So when it comes to planning dates with you, he's very proactive and on top of it. He'll try really hard with gifts but he's just not great at them to start with. He's insecure about his tastes and what you like and will second-guess his understanding of what you like. Give him a list or general ideas though and he's off to the races.

No matter what he gets you or what he plans for big days, he'll always put you at the center of it and make sure that you'll appreciate what he is bringing to the table,

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Corkscrew's altruism gets to unhealthy places if no one checks him and that leads to dangerous behavior. He also has the habit of pushing down his own wants and needs, but that's overflowed into pushing down any negative reaction or emotion if he feels overwhelmed. That means it's really hard for Cor to recognize he's reaching a breaking point either mentally or physically.

He also doesn't realize, but by deprioritizing himself and acting on his own when he thinks its best, he is pushing away and hurting those who love him.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

More than average level of vanity but not concieted. When all you see is the same face every day, you come to understand that dang, that is a handsome face. He takes good care of his hair (which is slightly longer than regulations but not enough to garner attention) and does enjoy the physical results of his conditioning and exercise.

Corkscrew is hot and he knows it and that's about as self-indulgent as he gets.

He got dared by his squad mates to cut a bit of his eyebrow off once (because they were aware he liked to be a "pretty boy"). But jokes on them, he liked the edginess it gave him and now it's a permanent feature.

He was legitimately concerned about the large scar that bisects his right thigh (transparisteel from his fighter shattered mid-battle and cut deep. He crashed into the docking bay of the Venator before passing out). It wasn't just that it was rough looking, but it was in a spot that only medics and bed partners would see, and the latter wouldn't think about scars the same way some brothers do, as badges of honor. He is still very self-conscious about it.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He already doesn't. Cor really feels like something is missing. But his identity is so bound to the GAR that he convinces himself that the feeling is just longing and not a void in his very soul.

Once he finds a partner that he loves, Corkscrew would prefer spending every night together. He understands that may not always be possible, but damn he's gone so long without you that he can't go back to feeling incomplete.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Man is competitive as SHIT. Like, you wanna see him lose control without putting yourself in danger? Challenge him to anything. Literally anything. And like the small child he really is at heart, he can't let it go. But be warned, he's really adept at finding ways to win. And he'll keep rechallenging you until he's got you beat.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Selfishness and inconsideration. Being mindful is so part of who he is that someone who objectively doesn't operate at least a little in the same way would be incompatible. He'd grow resentful of them.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He has a pretty regular sleep pattern when on leave and non-active engagement, as is standard for the GAR. But he doesn't need to be. Corkscrew can nap for 30 minutes and be good to go. It's not fair and other brothers hate him for it (affectionately).

He does snore a bit, but lightly and he doesn't tend to move too much. Maybe that's why it's so restful?

He also likes both a shirt and sleep pants for bed. Much more than just boxers or even just pants.

That's all for Corkscrew for now. Keep an eye out for his NSFW Alphabet and maybe a ficlet or two in the near future!

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Check out my Masterlist for more Clone Wars and Bad Batch fics and hcs!

[ltbroccoli]

@nebulaties ( starter call )

Night shift on the Orville was incredibly chill. The crew was generally pretty relaxed, but even more so late at night. And Chief LaMarr never really cared about the details, so long as you got your work done -- something Reg appreciated greatly.

He was tucked into a corner of engineering, going over some diagnostics run earlier that day. Mostly routine stuff, but he was trying to track down the source of a minor power drain. Since no one else was around to care, he'd gone ahead and slipped in some earbuds, playing some music to drown out the usual noise in his head.

Unfortunately, this meant he didn't notice Captain Mercer until the man was practically on top of him.

Reg would love to say he didn't yelp. But he did. Immediately, he scrambled to pull out his earbuds while also getting up to stand at attention -- something he apparently couldn't quite manage at the same time. "Captain, I am so sor -- I didn't hear, ah -- I'm sorry, sir, can I -- can I help... you...?"

[deepspacenightshift]

The most popular genre of holo-novel on Deep Space Nine right now is Space Pirate Romance, perhaps owing to the fact that Quark’s Bar got a bunch of Space Pirate holo-novels for cheap recently.

“Space Pirates” is a catchall term for pirates that prey on spacefaring vessels, usually involving scrappy renegade crews of Romulans, Ferengis, and Humans, with spicier things like Betazoids and ex-Borg thrown in for good measure.

You are either captured by Space Pirates or you start as one, although there’s a subgenre called “Space Prisoner” where you are some kind of official that captures or is put in charge of a (possibly reformed) Space Pirate or crew. Interestingly, you don’t actually have to do a romance plot to enjoy Space Pirate Romance holo-novels; they feature plenty of action and twists and pure chaotic fun without adding romance.

One of the popular tropes of Space Pirate Romance is “the universal translator is broken”, allowing the unusual experience of trying to communicate with the crew while only hearing their speech as unintelligible murmuring, roaring, chittering, and clicking.

The biggest draw might be the fact that ultimately, the Space Pirates are kind and good. No matter how odd-looking, how foreign, how initially cruel they seem, they always turn out to have—as Humans put it—“hearts of gold”.

[thegarchives]

let your dreams flood in

i've been reading everything i can find about wrecker and sending sinful asks to @escapedthesarlacc and this is the result.

made it. had a breakdown. bon appetit.

pairing: wrecker x gender-neutral reader (if i've missed something let me know!)

warnings: consensual somnophilia, blow jobs, praise kink, wrecker is Big and Messy

last time he'd been back, in between bruising kisses to your neck, he'd confessed that most nights he'd wake up hard, chasing the phantom-heat dream of your mouth around him.

"hated- waking up- without you there," he'd whispered between bites, and the moan you let out was not from the edges of his teeth against your skin, but from the way your heart was suddenly too big for your ribcage, threatening to spill out between your bodies.

"i'm here," you said breathlessly, clutching at wrecker's arms. "i'm here, i won't leave-"

he'd silenced you with a kiss, and there wasn't time for talking after that. or the following morning, when you both overslept and he had to dash back to the barracks and you didn't see him again for another three weeks. (holocalls didn't really count, because the GAR monitored them heavily, and so did tech, because he was nosy, and because wrecker hated talking on holocalls because it made the both of you shy in ways you never were in person together).

three weeks later and wrecker knocked on your door at one in the morning, swaying on his feet with bacta patches poking out from beneath his sleeves. he insisted on hoisting you up so he could kiss you, and you insisted he needed to sleep, and you knew how exhausted he was when he didn't even argue, just set you back down and followed you like a tooka kitten, barely remembering to take off his armor and boots before he crashed into your bed.

that was hours ago. you'd spent some time polishing his armor, restlessly trying to read a holonovel, making snacks for when he inevitably woke up and raided your kitchen. nothing helped stave off your anxious energy, which is how you found yourself watching him sleep, remembering the last time he'd come home, and the dreams he'd told you about, and before you knew it, a plan had formed.

idly you wonder if this would even wake him up- wrecker had been known to sleep through hurricanes on kamino.

you tug his blacks down gently over his massive thighs until you can see his half-hard cock. carefully you reach out to palm him, half your attention on wrecker's face to make sure he doesn't immediately wake. his brows furrow at your touch but he stays asleep; you stroke your hand up and down his shaft, gathering precum as it leaks out the tip. it's hard to be patient when you're already aching for him. leaning down, letting your hair brush against the inside of his thighs, you give little kitten-licks to the head of his cock. beneath you wrecker's hips jerk and you hear him whine, and you can't help the little giggle that escapes from you at the sound. you press a dainty kiss to his leaking tip, then let it turn sloppy as you mouth at the head, spit running down the shaft to help ease your hands as they work him.

he'd been so nervous the first time you'd put your mouth on him. you'd been nervous too, but you weren't about to let wrecker know that. now the nerves were gone as you took him down slowly, lips stretched obscenely over his girth, your hands wrapped around what you couldn't fit. wrecker moaned, shifting in his sleep, and you nearly choked. briefly coming back up for air, you dove back down, moaning softly around wrecker's cock and loving the way he writhed beneath you.

you didn't care about being quiet now, the most obscene wet noises coming from your lips as you gave the sloppiest blow job you'd ever given in your life. you felt, more than heard, the rumble wrecker made as he finally started to wake up, and you hollowed your cheeks and sucked. wrecker keened, one of his hands coming down to cradle your head. you looked up and met his sleepy, lust-blown eyes.

"baby," he cooed, his hand moving to cradle your jaw. "you're so good to me, so fucking good-"

if it were possible to smile around a mouthful of wrecker, you would. instead you kept your gaze on him and continued your ministrations, heat pooling between your thighs at the desperate sounds he made. he kept trying to praise you, knew how much you loved it, but wrecker was starting to babble; you caught the words 'good', 'angel', some swears in mando'a and in basic, all nearly drowned out by the moans and whimpers he was making.

you barely got a warning in the form of his free hand smacking the bed (wrecker wasn't a fan of pulling on your hair even when you said you didn't mind). he stiffened and with a roar he was coming, what you couldn't swallow dribbling down your chin and back onto his cock. you barely swallowed before you were licking up what you'd missed, teasing his oversensitive cock until he whimpered your name and you decided to be merciful.

wrecker was already reaching down to manhandle you, and you let him pull you up so he could kiss you lazily (he'd never minded the taste of himself).

"'s'one helluva way to say 'good morning', baby," he murmured into your mouth. your jaw and throat ached with a job well done, and all you could manage at the moment was a little 'hmm' of acknowledgement.

"you're gonna let me return the favor, right?" he asked, grinning.

(and oh, how he did. the noise complaint from your neighbors was worth it).

[halfwayinlight]

Series: Precious Commodities Chapter: 4. Denouement Fandom: Star Trek TNG Pairing: Will Riker/Deanna Troi Rating: PG, hints at PG13 Notes: final chapter in the fic for @nothingeverlost based on TNG season 3′s episode “Menage a Troi.”

Family is a precious commodity, and Deanna has so little of hers left. Everything—everything—in her being is screaming to fight for it. She can barely breathe as her mother is so calmly asking her to leave with Will. To let her make this sacrifice.

It’s horrifying. The only parent she has left is asking her to do this of all things. Just this once. As if leaving her mother here isn’t a life imprisoned. As though she might have some sort of future visitation rights. But she knows too well that the moment she leaves this ship, she has little hope of seeing her mother again.

And Deanna Troi has already lost all of the other biological family she has. A father. A son. There’s not enough time for any of these thoughts to process. And she’s too stunned by all of her regrets about how she has spoken to her mother over the last days. Over her exasperation with this only parent she has left, who only wanted to see her happy in the way that had most made her mother happy. As a wife. As a mother.

She could’ve—and maybe should’ve—tried to explain about her little Ian. About how much it had hurt to see him leave. About how it had been real, fully real, and she had been a mother. But now she wasn’t. And she’s had too many Troi family taken from her.

She feels like she’s on autopilot, letting herself be directed back to Will. It’s only Will’s arm on her back that feels real. That keeps her from throwing a fit. From objecting as ardently as Farek.

It’s worse that the last words she’s hearing are about oomox, and it makes her stomach turn. She expected… something. Anything else. It’s like some holonovel. Or holodeck program. Deanna turns and strains for one last… something? A moment. Another look. One more word.

There is no goodbye.

There wasn’t a goodbye with her father, either. Ian Troi had given her a hug and a kiss and said he would see her soon. She’d cried quietly and tried to be brave. When she was older, she’d wondered if it had been a premonition. But Deanna knew too well to really think such things. She had simply been a little girl who didn’t want her favorite parent to leave her.

She knew her mother had been aware that her father was her favorite. And Deanna had felt plenty of guilt about that later. There was no hiding those thoughts and feelings from a telepath as adept as Lwaxana Troi.

It takes the nudge from Farek to bring her to the moment, and she shudders away from his touch. By the time she gains the corridor, Will’s arm slides around her, putting himself between her and the Ferengi. And it’s meant to comfort her, to protect her.

William Riker is the first person to make her feel safe since her father died. She’s not naïve, though. The innocent security of her childhood is something she cannot ever regain. There’s no planet or cave or corner of a galaxy that is truly safe. Disasters happen. Loss compounds.

Imzadi, we’ll find some way, Will is urging. She can feel the concern cresting as he guides her toward the transport area. He’s unsettled at the idea of leaving her mother behind, too. But he’s also desperate to return her to the relative safety of the ship. And Will is all too aware of the toll the last, well, whatever it has been, has taken on her. It feels like months. But she’s sure it’s not been more than a day. They’re both well past exhausted. In need of food. Their bodies strained by far too long without sleep. She wants to hold his hand through the whole transport process, but it has already started and completed before that thought has time to make itself known.

The increased warmth and ambient light of the bridge should be a comfort. Will’s hand on her back urging her toward their familiar seats is a small comfort. It reminds her of her purpose, and it’s meant to do that. To pull out the last strength that she needs right now. When the captain asks them if they’re alright, she finally has the words.

It’s jarring to see her mother on the screen. In the performance of her lifetime, and there’s a moment of promise. A strategy to be leveraged, and it might not be the Queen’s Gambit, but it’s a strategy. And one that Deanna desperately hopes the captain can play out. As the Shakespeare begins, she finally relaxes into her chair. And certainty built that they were on the cusp of regaining her mother’s freedom.

There’s embarrassment when her mother makes herself at home so literally on the captain’s lap. And it is frustrating to no end that Tog is getting away with abduction. But they are off of the ship. They’re home, or at least she and Will are home. And her mother is safely on board.

It’s a relief when the captain steps to the helm to set the course for Betazed. And a reminder of the shore leave that wasn’t. Deanna can sense that they won’t have much more time than it will take to return her mother to the planet before they need to go. And she’s increasingly aware of her exhaustion. It’s terribly tempting to fall asleep in her chair.

“Ladies,” it’s Will, offering a hand and an understanding smile. Using that voice that is firm enough not to be ignored. It’s so much easier to follow his lead in this as he gives command to Data. The captain has retreated to the Ready Room, and she’s certain that the captain knows that neither of them are in any condition for bridge duty.

Even her mother grows quiet now, which is a testament to how much this has taken out of all of them. It doesn’t take long to gain Deck Eight and their quarters. It seems unnatural to part here, and for once in her life Deanna is actually glad to see Dr. Beverly Crusher waiting in her lounge to scan them for injuries. It’s an excuse to keep Will close for a little longer without having to specifically ask him to stay.

Beverly is already fussing over them before they can get through the door. If she wasn’t so tired, Deanna would find it comical as her friend tried to decide which of the three she should scan first.

“Deanna first,” Will insists, folding his arms across his chest and giving her a look as though daring her to disagree with him.

“Mother—”

“Doesn’t have a single scratch on her,” Lwaxana counters over her shoulder as she’s already moving toward the bedroom. “I’m going to make use of your sonic shower, Little One, and I’m sure between your replicator and your closet, we can find something that will be appropriate for the journey home.” It was a retreat to privacy, and the counselor in her couldn’t help but note it.

Whatever Beverly is saying is lost on Deanna because she’s finally hitting the end of her reserves. Every sense is suddenly dulled, and she can feel Beverly’s arm around her, guiding her to her sofa. She could’ve sworn the doctor was across the room moments ago. As she settles in beside Will, who wasted no time in gaining the sofa. He’s reaching for one of the trauma blankets and tucking it around her.

“Leave her lef arm free,” Beverly instructs as she finishes her scan. There’s the slight not-quite sting of a hypospray at her neck, and now the doctor is sitting beside Deanna and digging out instruments. “… dehydrated, in need of a good meal, and this arm…”

Deanna shook her head slightly and both attempts and fails at a smile. “I don’t really know what happened to it… I woke up in the brig and it was tender.”

Two sets of blue eyes are scrutinizing her, but when Beverly glances to Will for answers, he simply shrugs. “No breaks, but there’s soft tissue damage,” the doctor tuts, “tendons, ligaments, and some minor muscle tears. I’m sure it’s been bothering you.”

The comfort of the blanket and the analgesic in the hypospray is almost Deanna’s undoing. In a short time everything has upended, and now it’s all back so neatly together. Securely. Her mother spared. But it’s like mental whiplash, and the reality and certainty hasn’t caught up with her. She’s reeling, and there is nothing to distract her anymore. She doesn’t have the capacity to even cry or laugh.

“Deanna?” Will is shifting closer as Beverly continues to restore the body with her various instruments. When the doctor is finished, Will gently tucks in her mended arm and lets his finger trace her collar bone as though they had spent shore leave together. Like the last days hadn’t happened at all. Like Dr. Beverly Crusher wasn’t busy running a scan on Will. Like her mother wasn’t a room away.

The dark head shook slightly as though to throw off the tiredness that clung to them. “I’ll be fine, Will, I just need a nap,” she murmurs, feeling the ragged edges of the ordeal tugging at her. Her fingers curl into the blanket, and she pulls it a bit closer.

“You need a solid meal and naps and some full nights of sleep. And I’m not clearing either of your for duty for at least two days,” Beverly counters. “Ah, don’t you dare move that hand, Will Riker. Like you don’t have bruised knuckles. What, did you get in a bar fight?”

Deep blue eyes narrow to a glare as he glances out the port to the now-empty view. “Something like that.” Will sighs and relaxes a little deeper into the seat, his head dropping to rest against the back cushion. “I shouldn’t have sat down. It’s too comfortable.”

“Mother’s going to need something to wear,” Deanna murmurs, trying to gather some non-existent reserves and convince herself to get up and figure out what options the replicator has. But Beverly’s hand on her shoulder stops her.

“You’re going to tell me what you want to eat, and then you can nap there on your couch or go to sleep properly in your own bed.” Beverly crosses the room and when no actual order is forthcoming, she takes a minute to examine the last meals ordered and programs in something suitable.

As quiet settles over her quarters, it strikes Deanna how much she’s missed the calm. How much she craved the warmth of her cabin and its own environmental controls. Later, she’s not completely sure what she even ate. If Beverly hadn’t mentioned the hot toddy, she wouldn’t have much noticed it, either. But it’s warm and filling, and in the end she doesn’t even bring herself to use her sonic shower. Because by the time she eats, she’s doing good to make it to her own bed and curl up beside her mother, who is already in a deep meditation that will probably do her more good than sleep.

It doesn’t surprise her to find her mother asleep beside her and Will asleep on her couch when she finally wakes up six hours later. She takes a few moments to send a quick message to her own therapist. She’s going to need to debrief in a few days. No doubt there will be some reports to complete.

But for now, she allows herself the luxury of a hot bath, and both it and sleep and a meal have gone far to soothe the frazzled edges of her soul. Her lavender outfit is more appropriate to the rest of the ship’s environment, and she’s aware that her mother is awake by the time she finishes her bath.

Doesn’t that feel better, Little One? It’s a question, but it’s more of a statement. Lwaxana Troi is seated at the small table in the corner of Deanna’s lounge with a plate of barely touched oskoids and some other salad of sorts. She doesn’t blame her mother for leaving part of the Betazoid meal untouched—the replicator can’t seem to get the dish quite right.

She’s a little disappointed to see the couch is empty, save a neatly folded blanket. It makes Deanna wonder if Will moved back to his cabin to clean up, or if he got called out on some ridiculous or legitimate call. A thousand beings could certainly find a few ways to keep the First Officer on his toes. A ship’s counselor, too, for what it was worth.

“Darling?” her mother prods, drawing her attention back to the moment before taking another bite of her food.

“Much better,” Deanna finally answers with a small smile. “How are you?” She knows the questions will be brushed aside, but she also knows that she’s as good at sensing her mother’s emotions as her mother is at reading her mind. And so the question is more of an invitation or at least an acknowledgement that she’s turning her attention to her mother now.

Lwaxana’s head bobs slightly. Nothing that won’t sort itself out in a few days. A little meditation, a little of letting my mind do its healing, and I’m good as new. She finishes the last bites of the salad and took a deep drink of water before patting her mouth neatly with a napkin. “That much too serious fellow that runs the transporter called a little while ago to say we’ve entered orbit around Betazed. Now you and Will must beam down with me and enjoy a little holiday. You both could use it so badly, and no doubt that doctor, too. I can think of a few friends I’d like to introduce her to. You remember Xander—”

Her head shakes slightly, though she offers up a small smile at the thought. She really does wish she and Will had time for such things. “It’s Chief O’Brien. And that window of opportunity for shore leave is closed, mother. Unfortunately, we have other obligations with the crew.”

“But surely the Captain can see you both need this holiday!”

“Mother,” she crosses the space between them and places a gentle hand on her mother’s forearm. “I miss the Fifth House, but it will have to wait until the next time we are in the system. We’re both sorry things turned out as they did, but next time I will come to visit you.”

Lwaxana’s smile emerged at those works, and she enfolds her daughter’s hand in both of hers. “You’ll stay at the Fifth House with me next time?”

“I promise,” she assures.

“And you’ll bring William with you?” she presses, eyebrows raising.

Deanna’s head cants slightly as she considers it. “That’s going to be up to Will. If he wants to come along, that’s his choice. I’m not promising for him.” She is absolutely on to her mother’s game, but she isn’t going to put Will in a position where he can’t make his own choices. “And maybe I can convince Beverly to join us as a guest, too. But I think she’d enjoy getting to know Darius far more than Xander’s company.”

Her mother’s sly grin tells her that she’s found the right compromise. “And you must invite Jean—”

“No, mother,” Deanna counters firmly. “The Captain has his own holidays. That wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“But you ought to ask. He shouldn’t be excluded simply for being the highest officers on the ship.”

She shakes her head again and gives her mother’s hand a squeeze for emphasis. “Mother, you aren’t really interested in him.” Of this she is fairly certain. Her mother can be capricious, but Deanna remains hopeful that she is right in this. Or she hopes she can maintain self-delusion if she’s wrong.

“Humans are so easily ruffled, especially the men,” she pouts. “Spending so much time around them is making you downright prudish… Oh, let’s not argue about it. Especially not when that ruffled fellow is going to call back any moment now.” She huffs slightly. “I don’t suppose I could convince the Captain that I have a pressing diplomatic mission to… where were you heading?”

Deanna shrugs, but she can’t help the indulgent smile. “I suppose that would be stretching it, even for you. Come on, I’ll walk you to the transport room.” She offers her arm and is warmed when, instead of taking it, her mother draws her into a hug.

“So like your father, he did his best to indulge me, too.” Lwaxana cups her daughter’s face and presses a kiss to her forehead just as she did when sending a young Deanna to bed as a child. This time she doesn’t chafe at the affection like she did days ago. “He would be so proud of you.”

“He would’ve been proud to see how you handled the Ferengi,” Deanna answers. Her smile is warm but watery, and Deanna takes her mother’s hand and doesn’t mind the usual parting chatting all the way from her quarters to the last moments before transport.

Lwaxana wraps her arms around her daughter and indulges in one more a kiss to both cheeks. “Promise me you’ll send word soon on subspace?”

“I promise,” Deanna agrees with a smile, particularly amused as O’Brien is increasing preoccupied and fascinated with the console in front of him.

Her mother steps onto the transport platform. “And give it some thought. Maybe you can convince the captain to circle back on the next mission. There are always plenty of spare rooms for all the guest.”

“I’ll put in a good word,” she chuckles, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. After everything, she is simply grateful her mother is back to her old self.

“I may be old, but I know how to capitalize on a good thing when I see it. Just remember that William is more than welcome—” Whatever else she was hoping to add, Lwaxana has de-materialized and is on her way back to Betazed.

Deanna carefully avoided eye contact with their transport chief, but she gives a nod when he mentioned that the captain was requesting her presence on the bridge. Apparently catching up on more sleep will have to wait. Her nap has helped tremendously, though she’s aware it will take at least a few more days to pay back some of her sleep debt. Beverly wasn’t wrong to say they were in need of sleep. Hopefully the doctor will forgive her visit to the bridge in the name of following orders.

The familiar scents and slightly-dry air of Enterprise are soothing. The turbo lift is familiar, and she can feel herself easing back into routine as though the last days hadn’t happened. Eventually she will take some time to process everything. But for now, even a short shift on the bridge is welcoming.

If it was worth summoning her, she is sure Will would be there, too. With any luck, it won’t be anything too out of the ordinary. Maybe they would even have time to grab another meal in Ten Forward and start their plans for Angel Falls. The emotion is elusive, and she nearly gains the bridge when she realizes that she is actually missing Will. It’s almost laughable. They often have split shifts and don’t see each other for half a day or more.

She isn’t going to think about what it meant right now. Or how when she emerges from the turbo lift, he twists in his seat and looks as glad to see her as she is to see him. Or that when his eyes meet hers, there is something like emotional resonance between them. This bond they still share. Missing each other. A small joy at this reunion. Lingering tiredness. And a refocus on the next mission. There will be time to sort it all out later.

[elmidol]

Faceless Creature :: Unmasked Man (NSFW)

Three Blind Tooke Part One Resistance is Futile

Read on AO3

Warnings: noncon, threats, facefucking, oral, mind control, coercion

Three Blind Tooke Part One: Resistance is Futile

Chapter Three: Faceless Creature :: Unmasked Man

One night, my child, you wept with me; We mourned the monsters that had fled; They feared, sweet one, all humanity— For not even they could instill such dread.

You were not entirely sure if it was still night or early morning when you awoke. The room you were in lacked a window. The creature behind you sounded as though he was breathing evenly, as though he was asleep. You glanced down at your sorry excuse for clothing. He had never pulled the top back over your chest, which remained bare. With a snarl, you turned over in bed. Kylo Ren was lying on his back, his chest rising and falling at a steady rhythm. With your hands still chained and mittened, you knew you would be unable to do much damage with them. Likewise, you could not seize his jugular with your teeth; they were blocked not only by the rubber seal, but by the muzzle as well. That left you with limited choices. If you attempted to use your knee to press down on his throat, he could easily flip you off of him.

Thus you eased yourself closer to him. You fought off the urge to gag as you pressed your body into his, rolling on top of him. You pressed your head towards his throat, attempting to push the hard surface of your skull into his windpipe. Underneath you, the creature stirred. Kylo Ren wove an arm around your waist. “How affectionate,” he drawled. Whether he mistook your actions for nuzzling or was purposely mocking you, you were uncertain. Either way, his words struck as though he had dealt a physical blow. You froze atop him. You were waiting for him to do something—anything—yet he simply laid there.

Despite that you knew that it was in no way your fault that this creature had taken advantage of you, his words made you feel ill at ease. As though, somehow, it had been your fault. Perhaps you provoked him. He had dug for a weakness to break you—why did you continue to resist him? So many others in the Resistance broke under lesser circumstances, the creature had said so himself.

Your lungs felt as though they were burning. You had been holding your breath, you realized. His arm around you—the creature was holding onto you, and you wanted to die.

You thought of your mother, of her face. It had been so long since you had seen her. Next of your father. Your thoughts lingered here for longer. Father. Dad… Your toes twitched back and forth. Each breath you took, you held onto it for several seconds before exhaling.

Beside you, the creature remained awake. His breathing failed to return to that level pace. You imagined storybooks you had read as a child, holonovels; all the pictures of the monsters therein. What sort of terrifying creature lived beneath the mask? You had, in your own way, been a monster hunter. The righter of wrong; defending children from the war by slaying those who would drag them into it. These monsters with their cruel weapons. This one had managed to catch you.

Once upon a time, when I was a child… Stories began like that. Once upon a time, there was a monster. Yet people could put down stories, whether they had finished reading them or not. They could escape the monster at any time they wanted or needed to.

How do I escape this monster? I can’t escape this. The tears were scalding, stinging the corners of your eyes and wetting your lashes. Daddy, I didn’t want this. It hurts… The throbbing between your legs. Your torn hymen, the orgasm that had been forced upon you only increasing your discomfort both physically and mentally—emotionally. It hurts so bad, but if I scream then he wins…

How dare he have labeled your meager attempt to harm him as affectionate.

Kylo Ren unwound his arm from you long enough to pull the blanket over your exposed chest and shoulders. You ground your rubber-capped teeth together once more. Now that hot rage was fueling you anew, the tears began to die away. It was repulsive, this creature committing an act as though he truly cared whether or not you were cold. After what he had done to you—!

The throbbing made itself known as a fresh wave of pain shot through your body. It was due to this wave that you realized how hurt and exhausted you were. There would be no battles you could win in this condition. Not even the fight of keeping conscious for much longer.

In the morning, you were returned to the cell, where once more you were shackled with your arms stretched to your sides. Two ‘troopers came in; one held an IV and the other what appeared to be a nutritional shake. It was your choice which method you would receive nutrients. Chagrined, you obediently opened your mouth and allowed them to put the straw through your muzzle. In this way were you fed for the following—you were not certain how many—days.

They shackled you often; sometimes in order to clean the cell, other times to take off the mittens so that your skin could breathe, and also times for the purpose of bathing you via a cloth, soap and tub of water. It sickened you that it was one their duties to shave you as well. You felt disgusting when they did so. Your feet were strapped down so that you could not make any sudden movements that would cause the razor to cut you.

The shakes hardly had enough nutrients for you to be in any condition to fight back. It was only enough to keep you alive. Some of the ‘troopers bathing you took the liberty of fondling and groping you. You bit back the tears and angry cries each time this occurred. What was worse was when one would get bored or upset with your lack of a reaction. The wet cloth was placed over your face, the bathwater poured atop it so that you were gasping for air and coughing up the liquid.

Earlier that morning, you had been bathed once more. This time it had been seen fit to also wash your hair, which had dried since then. Instead of redressing you in the usual, laughable outfit, you had been threatened with another session of water boarding should you refuse to cooperate with pulling on the clothing that had been brought. They needn’t have threatened you; you were only too glad to pull on the black long-sleeve shirt—they offered no bra—and the panties as well as shorts that hardly concealed anything at all. Still, the outfit was much preferable to the old one.

It was when the mittens were alternated with different gloves—ones that allowed you to use your fingers, though still were long enough to prevent you from opening a vein, and ones that you were unable to remove on your own—and the muzzle was kept off that you were suddenly not sure whether you should appreciate the change in attire. Boots were slipped onto your feet. You prodded the rubber coating your teeth with your tongue; this you would be unable to remove on your own. You were led outdoors, where you had to squint despite the fact that it was overcast. You were more accustomed to the darkness and fake lighting.

A shove sent you stumbling forward. Looking over your shoulder, you perceived those who had taken you outside leaving you. A cold feeling crept into your gut; dread. You suddenly knew what was occurring. You were being released for sport.

Still, you had better use of your hands now. You glanced down at those limbs. Your broken finger, though not fully healed, was able to be moved with less pain than previous. That in mind, you took your first hesitant step towards a line of trees. A second step then a third. In no time, you were running, doing what you could to disappear into your surroundings as you crossed the line of trees. All the same, you were searching for something you could use as a weapon against the creature that would be pursuing you.

The first chance you received, you ducked into an area that offered you shading from anyone who might be following you. It was there that you tried to catch your breath. You had not realized exactly how weak you had been kept until that moment; your stamina was almost nonexistent. Reaching to the side, you grabbed a fallen branch. It seemed thick enough to be able to do some damage, though it was not quite the weapon for which you had been hoping.

At the sound of a twig snapping, you tensed before balling yourself more tightly. You shifted your legs slowly so that you would be able to spring out of your hiding place; be it to attack or run. A step closer. Your heart raced in your chest, blood pulsing in your ears while you attempted to keep your breathing level. The very moment a shadow started to fall upon you, you whipped up, quickly twisting in an attempt to strike the creature over the head—one of his gloved hands, however, easily caught the stick. He tore it from your hands, causing a cry to rise from your lips, and chucked it out of reach.

Without saying a word to you, his visor pointed at your face, the creature took a step closer. You scrambled backwards, your wide gaze on Kylo Ren. “A rather rude guest.”

“I…” You paused, your legs feeling as though they were locking up. It took you more than a single second to realize this was the doing of the creature before you. The weight of the Force kept you from running, from moving further away from him; however, the weight was not comparable to previous times he had frozen you. “I’m a prisoner. Guest suggests I’m here willingly.”

The weight upon your body increased, and you found yourself pushed to your knees. You glared at the creature from your position on the ground. Kylo Ren chuckled. “You’re so right.” He stepped closer to you, one of his gloved hands resting atop your head. You did not say or do anything; not that you could do anything with the way he had you trapped with the Force. The hand shifted, Kylo Ren caressing your face, drawing a line down to your lips. “You killed twelve officers. No mere foot soldiers. You’ve done more damage than most those in the Resistance—nearly as much as the pilots have accomplished.” Your eyes searched the expressionless mask. You wondered if this was another reason he was punishing you for surviving.

“The First Order will fall,” you said with much conviction.

Kylo Ren’s hand left your face—only to return, the creature backhanding you. Your head snapped to the side, and blood leaked from your split lip. You ran your tongue over the injury, wincing at the sting the action brought. The leather was placed once more on the side of your face, the creature turning you so that he could peer down into your countenance. “You’ve been deceived…taught lies upon lies… Your general is the greatest liar of all.” At the mention of General Organa, you dropped your eyes from the mask. You recalled full well what had happened when it was first discovered she was the daughter of Darth Vader. What had happened since. That had not lessened the truth to her words, to the cause of the Resistance.

“We will not submit to the tyranny of the First Order.” Amusement from the creature in the form of a chuckle. All that he had done to you, that he had forced you to endure, returned in full force. “You resort to such inhumane actions, vile creature.”

Your captor trailed the very tips of his fingers from the side of your jaw up the corner of your eye. You were forced to blink then squint at this minor irritant. He pushed aside the front of his robe, his hand caressing the front of his pants while the leather-clad limb that was on your face rubbed up and down. You lifted your eyes then dropped them again. The outdoors appeared to make a difference on the effect you had on him; he was hardening at his touch, at touching you. “You’re disgusting,” you hissed.

Kylo Ren moved his pants aside, withdrawing his half-hard cock from the confines of the material. Your breathing immediately accelerated to the point that you feared you would hyperventilate. With quick flicks of his wrist, he was working himself faster and faster, his cock hardening fully. It was then that he paused. “You can’t stop looking…” Heat spread across your features at his teasing, at the truth to his words. You had never been so close to an aroused man in this fashion—and the sight of his cock did prove that he was a man. Human. His nature was still that of a monster. “Would you like a taste?”

“Gross.” You wrinkled your nose. “You’re gross.” He was playing with some of the skin around the head, pulling it back, pushing it forward again. Teasing himself without making any move that would cause him to ejaculate. Kylo Ren chuckled at your expense, wrapping his hand more firmly around his cock and starting to jerk himself again. “Depraved.”

“Mm. Am I?” You paled; he was getting off on your insults. Trembling, you closed your mouth and swallowed down anything else you had planned to say. “Don’t you remember how good it feels—to cum?” You shuddered at the memory of your orgasm. Then gasped as a sudden pressure rolled against your clit. Blinking past the few tears that formed, you grit your teeth to keep from begging him to stop. He was clearly using the Force in a way most inappropriate. You felt the undulation again, and your eyelids fluttered. His hand traveled back up your face to your hair. He entangled his fingers in your locks and yanked back. Your mouth opened in a scream of pain—and he took advantage of this, shoving himself inside.

You gagged as his cock slid toward the back of your throat. The Force was keeping you in place as well as rocking against your clit. You could feel yourself growing wet, though you wished more than anything that you weren’t. I don’t want this! Kylo Ren placed his hands on the sides of your head and started to fuck your mouth. You whimpered and gagged, feeling his shaft on your tongue. Breathing in the musk of his hair as he buried himself fully into your mouth all the way to the hilt. It was a taste that, while not necessarily unpleasant, was something you had not wanted. Something you did not want. He used his hands to force you to bob your head on his length, and you released groans, gags, and other obscene noises. It was the first time when, had you been able to say anything, you would have begged him to stop.

Kylo Ren pulled out of your mouth, and you gulped in air as he lowered himself onto his knees, his legs on either side of yours. His hands were on the hem of your shorts, tugging down both them and your panties. You sobbed when he pushed you onto your back. His hands seized your thighs, which he kept spread as he shifted so that his cock was against your cunt. Kylo Ren rolled his hips, and the sensation of his erection caressing your sensitive clit had you gasping in both horror and, worse than anything, the stirrings of pleasure.

“I’m just Resistance scum!” you shot out, desperate and with a high-pitched voice. “You said it—you said you had no desire to touch me!”

“Perhaps you should be honored then.” Another roll of his hips, the head of his erection brushing your clit.

Kylo Ren started to line himself up with your entrance. “No!” The head began to push in. “Please, don’t! Please!” The result was instantaneous. He paused, pulling back before crawling up the length of your body. He straddled your chest, his hand on his cock. You sobbed and cried under him as he jerked himself until he came. His semen hit your face in strips, and you squeezed your eyes closed.

What was perhaps worse than the feel of cum on his face was that you had crumbled. He had won this won, had had you begging him. What made it worse was that he had shown a sick sense of mercy by not fucking you. By not vaginally raping you.

No longer were you bound by the Force, and so you turned onto your side and curled into a ball as best you could. The man—what a despicable man, if that he could be called—pulled your clothes back on after he adjusted himself. He then rose and stepped away. You could hear his boots crunching the foliage nearby. You tucked the heel of your hand into your sleeve, wiping at your face and trying to rid yourself of his essence.

After a time, Kylo Ren returned to your side. There he lowered himself onto one knee, drew aside your hair, and caressed, with his knuckles, down the first few inches of your spine. “Don’t! Don’t you dare touch me!” You jerked yourself to the side, however failed to break the contact between your body and his hand.

“Defeated so easily.” You hissed, turning onto your back and lunging for him. Your hands went for his throat, your fingers successfully wrapping around it. Kylo Ren, meanwhile, wound his arm around your waist and pulled you even closer. This had you faltering in your attempt to do him harm. “Ah, so there is fight left in you, little tooke.” He took you into his arms. His grip was tight, indicating that you would not be able to resist him even if you tried. You stared at his throat as he carried you back into the building. When he entered his quarters, he deposited you on the bed and then moved to secure the room so that you could not leave.

It was when these tasks were accomplished that the man walked over to a chair, the back of which was facing you. He lowered himself into the seat, sitting forward. You watched from behind as he reached up, the helmet releasing a light hiss as the latches were released. You glowered at the back of his head, at the darkly colored locks of hair that were revealed. That was all you could see of him, and yet it was a punch in the gut still. A slap in the face; another reminder that another human—that a sentient being in general—was doing these things to you.

Kylo Ren leaned back in his chair, reclining with his arms on the armrests. You remained on the bed, your knees drawn up towards your chest and your arms wrapped around your legs. A knock on the door was the only thing that caused you to startle. Kylo Ren raised a hand as he rose from the chair, and you found yourself pinned where you were. You eyed the mattress with a deep frown. Your captor walked to the door, opening it, and then closing it once more. You could smell the food instantly. It wasn’t anything like what you had been being fed. It was real food. Your mouth watered at the scent, and you cursed the man for having you there.

Rather than return to the chair as you had believed he would, Kylo Ren sat on the bed beside you. You eyed the plate of food that he set in front of himself then allowed your gaze to travel, slowly, up his body to his face. You froze, feeling colder than ever. He had been correct in his words; you were suddenly more afraid now that he did not have his mask. He was, in a way, attractive—but that wasn’t what struck you. It was how young he was, how innocent he looked despite his scowl. This was the monster that caused so many deaths. And he did not look the part. You dropped your gaze to your feet.

In your peripheral, you watched as he lifted a bite to his lips. There was a juicy sort of slurp from him, which caused your stomach to grumble and your mouth to further salivate. He reached for another bite, and you stared at the morsel he lifted with want. Jealousy gripped at you when he took the third bite. The pressure of the Force had not left you, otherwise you would have made an attempt to grab some of the food for yourself. Kylo Ren licked the tip of his thumb then pinched another bite. This time it was some of the meat. He sucked the juices off of the piece before pushing the food into his mouth. You felt like crying, but you refused to break down again. You would not beg him a second time.

You watched him grabbing another bite of the meat; this piece looked even juicier than the last. Thus, when he set it near your lips and traced around them before putting the bite into his mouth, you could not help but flick out your tongue to taste the wetness that had been left behind. Your bottom lip quivered. It had been a delicious taste, but that was all he seemed willing to give. Kylo Ren consumed another five bites of food before reaching to the side to seize his wine, which he sipped.

“You’re deplorable.”

He released a noise of thought. Kylo Ren considered you as he ate several bites more. “Perhaps, if you’re good, I will let you lick the plate.” You sneered, your lips curling so that your rubber-coated teeth were bared. This did nothing other than cause him amusement. He ate the remainder of his food without giving you a single bite. Your stomach protested loudly, and you hated it for that. Tracing a lone finger around the rim of the dish, your captor stared at you. Your eyes, meanwhile, were glued on the plate. There was a lot of juice left from the food he had eaten. You licked your lips at the thought of it, not even realizing what you were doing.

Kylo Ren dipped two fingers into the juices, dragging them across the plate so that they were coated, and then placed those two digits in front of your mouth. You wrinkled your nose, pulling your lips into your mouth and pressing down on them with your teeth. After waiting several more seconds, he slipped his fingers into his own mouth then rose, taking the plate with him. You squeezed your eyes shut, a sob wracking your frame as the man set the plate outside the door and once more sealed the room.

As you cried, Kylo Ren lifted the napkin that he had not taken out with the plate. This he wet with his tongue before scrubbing along your face. Your body was handed over to your control only when he had cleaned off the dried semen and discarded the napkin. You wiped at your face, hating the sensation of his spit that remained, hating that you wished you could go back a few minutes in time and lick his fingers. While you were wrapped up in these musings, the man retrieved a book from one of the drawers of his dresser. This he tossed onto the bed beside you prior to moving back to the chair. He sat down, quite as ever.

Your eyes darted to the volume, finding that it was one of the various handbooks of the First Order. You nudged it aside then glared at the back of the man’s head. He ignored you. You sat there watching him for several seconds before realizing he was meditating.

Tentatively, you rose from the bed. Your feet touched the cool ground, and you hesitated, merely standing there quietly. Then, rethinking your strategy, you half-knelt on the bed so that you could reach the book. This you picked up before quietly making your way to the man. You stood behind him, staring at the back of his head. You started to raise the book, angling it so that the spine could do at least some damage when you— “Desperate, are we, tooke?” You faltered, the volume slipping from your grasp and falling with a thud onto the floor. He waved a hand. “Educate yourself.”

“With these lies? I think not.”

“Then sit quietly on the bed. Unless you prefer the shackles and muzzle.” You reluctantly obeyed, walking back to the aforementioned furniture and climbing onto it. The entire time he meditated, you kept your eyes on him. Watching him, thinking of ways to kill him. Imagining him dying.

Your thoughts wandered once more to your family, to your childhood. You missed it, a sort of longing you doubted you had ever experienced before. Let me go where monsters aren’t real. The mocking way he had caressed you before and after he had forced himself into your mouth was a memory that burned you to your core. It was as though he had been debating with himself—how deeply could he objectify you? He had managed to do it so well, had been able to commit himself to the task.

It was only when he rose that your thoughts returned to the present. “Are you hungry, little tooke?” You averted your eyes at the term he had adopted for you, at his taunting. Kylo Ren walked to the end of the bed, set his hands upon the mattress, and crawled up to you. You could not help but realize how much more like a predator he seemed.

He moved upwards until his mouth was level with your ear. You could feel his breath there, could smell it—could almost taste the meal he had eaten in front of you. You swallowed hard at the saliva that started to gather in your mouth. He lifted a hand, setting three fingers against your lips. You turned your head away, not allowing him to press those digits inside. Undeterred, Kylo Ren moved his hand down to your hip.

“How do you taste, little tooke?” Your eyes whipped to his face, which held an expression of mild curiosity. “Do you believe you’ll poison me if I taste you? Is your flesh toxic?” Your heart was racing in your chest again. It stuttered when the man leaned closer, flicking his tongue out, tracing the very tip along your cheek. “Perhaps a better taste…perhaps it’s only if I eat you?” As he spoke, he drew down the clothes that were covering your lower anatomy. You fumbled to catch the clothing, however he simply ripped the articles out of your grasp. He spoke in a passive voice: “Spread your legs, little tooke”—and your mind knew nothing other than to obey.

Kylo Ren moved between your legs, hooking those limbs over his shoulders as he pressed his face close to your cunt. His hot breath caused your lips to part. Your eyebrows drew upwards then knit—why the hell had you obeyed him? His tongue flicking out against you caused all thought to fall away. Panic started to set in when your body responded. Kylo Ren nudged your clit with the tip of his tongue. He shifted, enveloping your cunt with his mouth. You whimpered, growling in frustration and setting the heels of your hands against his head, trying to push him away. The man did not budge, kissing at you.

He trailed his tongue between your lips, waggling it, flicking it in and out of his mouth fast; teasing you in a manner that had you panting. You squirmed underneath him, swearing and moving to strike him. His hand shot up, catching your wrist. Kylo Ren pulled your hand down further, nipping at the glove that was covering your flesh.

“I’m… You said I’m just Resistance scum!” you cried out when he thrust his tongue into your entrance.

He pulled back with a groan, smirking at you, his eyes dancing with amusement. “The First Order will devour the Resistance.” And again his face was buried in your cunt, the man starting to tongue-fuck you in earnest. You could feel yourself growing slick, and you snarled and cursed. When you realized that you were starting to rock your hips, you forced yourself to stop. You bunched up the blankets underneath your hands; by the third time Kylo Ren had caught your wrist when you attempted to strike him, you had recognized your actions as futile.

I want to die!

He flattened his tongue against you, swiping it up ever slowly then nibbling your clit. His hands were cupping your ass, his thumbs keeping your lips spread apart so that he had easier access to you. He was groaning as you continued to grow more and more aroused, as you grew closer to orgasm. The noises, to your ears, were so obscene, and yet they were making your pussy all the wetter for him. Your toes curled, and your legs were trembling. Once more, you were bucking up into him, trying to get his tongue to delve further into you as your vaginal walls spasmed. You failed to suppress the moan as you came. Kylo Ren also moaned, greedily swallowing over and over again. When he unhooked your legs from himself, you found that his face was slick with your juices. You jerked your legs towards the rest of your body, turning so as to block yourself from his view. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his smirk returning.

He rose from the bed, and you found you could not stop shaking. Your eyes went everywhere he did. When he moved to the door, you tensed up further. Then felt as though your mind was in a fog; a new tray of food—identical to what he had eaten, though of a smaller portion—had been brought. This he set in front of you while taking a seat next to you. He trailed a hand through your hair. You sat there, completely still, unsure what to do.

“You won’t be touched by them again, tooke.” It took you several seconds to realize he was referring to the fondling and groping you had received from the stormtroopers the last—how many days had it been? You furrowed your brow and tried to count it out. Beside you, Kylo Ren chuckled. “You don’t know how much time has passed, do you?” Your gaze darted to his face. “Eleven days since you were last here.”

What had changed in those eleven days, you wondered, to make him want to touch you? If he knew about the fact that you had been responsible for the deaths of twelve officers, he had undoubtedly done research on you. Your skills as a fighter appeared to encourage his desire to force you to submit—so much so that it now elicited a sexual response from him.

Though your stomach growled, though the food smelled delicious and made your mouth water—the price of it had been him touching you. Had been him placing you in a submissive position. You turned away from it. “I’m not hungry.” He picked up one of the bites, rolling it around and staring at it speculatively.

“You won’t be given a second chance.”

Your eyes went back to the plate of food. It would hold more nutrients than one of those blasted shakes. Would possibly give you more energy with which to fight the man seated beside you. You swallowed down your pride, reached for a piece of meat, and took the first bite.

His eyes did not leave your face, which was terrifying—largely because his eyes, there was something almost sympathetic in his eyes. Yet also something quite hungry; the creature that had tasted you lying there in wait. Your body had responded once more to him, to actions you did not desire. You nearly choked on the bite of food in your mouth, however forced away the thoughts and memories that were prompting such a reaction from you. You could not allow yourself to become too weak, could not let this creature win.

You reached down onto the plate, pinched a piece of meat between two fingers, and set it on your tongue. It fell apart easily. The juices from it were already slipping down your throat. The creature let his gaze travel to your mouth then back up to your eyes. He was observing you as one would an animal. Waiting to see what you would do next.

Please, look away. He did not. He would not. The same way you could not either. You were enemies; he was attempting to break you, and you were searching for a crack in his shield, a crack that could lead to you being able to kill him.

[Fairytale lands, they fade away, When the real monsters come out to play; So let us hide, and together stay, Or else it shall be us the monsters slay.]

[azems-familiar]

Hi, hope you don't mind more prompts: nr 2 "none of this is your fault". Thanks!

this got, long, so have 1645 of kinda angsty post Order 66 fun and reunions!

It’s been a little over a year since the day his life shattered.

Since the day the war ended, the day he thought, for just a moment, that maybe- Maybe there could be a future outside the endless fighting and the loss and the pain, that maybe he could take the chance he’d always held himself somewhat back from. Grievous was dead, Dooku dead, and the look on- on Cody’s face as he handed Obi-Wan his lightsaber back was something warm and fond and tender, and he’d thought-

Well. He supposes it doesn’t matter what he’d thought, anymore, now does it?

Life on Tatooine is quiet, a far cry from the peace of the Temple before the war, or the frenetic pace of the Clone War, dashing back and forth across the galaxy. Too quiet, sometimes; all he has for company are his ghosts, most days, or Owen and Beru, on the rare times they let him see Luke or he needs help with his vaporators. From Anakin to Qui-Gon, the memories are all there, taunting him every time he closes his eyes.

Train him.

I hate you!

There is still good left in him…

And of course, the worst one, in some ways: starting up the cliffside of the Pau City sinkhole, feeling a shout of warning in the Force, and then the cannons firing - feeling the way his men’s Force signatures suddenly warped, twisted into something unfamiliar and heavy and wrong, wrong, wrong, and then falling, and then-

In any case, he almost wishes for something to keep him occupied, to keep his mind off the still-aching emptiness of the Force and the way he still sometimes glances over his shoulder to say something to Anakin, or Cody - that’s the primary reason he’d started investigating Jabba’s movements and going after his supply shipments. Part of it, of course, had been he could never let himself sit idly by and let the slavery and the stealing and the corruption go on, but if he’s honest with himself - which he’s never been too good at, he supposes - he’d needed the distraction from everything and everyone he’d failed.

Ahsoka contacts him, occasionally - he knows she’s working with Bail to form a rebellion. She’s been trying to get him to join, but he can’t leave Luke alone. Besides, Ahsoka is a strong young woman; he has faith in her abilities.

The comms can be frustrating, though, especially on a day like today, when the endless sands and the burning suns seem to have sucked the life out of him - he doesn’t have the energy to argue with her again.

“Obi-Wan,” Ahsoka says, when he answers the comm.

He sighs, rubs at his forehead. “Ahsoka, I’m not in the mood,” he says, before she can get anything else out.

“This isn’t about rebelling,” she says. “I’ve… found something of yours, I’m bringing it to Tatooine.”

He chuckles, though it feels not-quite-forced. “What, did you land on one of the multiple planets I left a cloak behind on? That’s hardly important enough to warrant the trip.”

“Something like that,” Ahsoka says, evasive.

He knows her well enough to know she’s hiding something; today, he’s too tired to probe. “Alright, then,” he says. “I’ll be here. Please don’t let the Empire know.”

“Trust me, Obi-Wan, I’m better than that,” she says.

He doesn’t tell her that’s what Anakin always said, right before getting them into some terrible mess. The wound is still too fresh, and in any case, she’d know that.

The comm cuts off and he sighs, rubs at his temples. What in the galaxy could she have found that’d warrant a visit all the way to this wretched hellhole?

If it really is one of his cloaks, he’ll-

Oh, what’s the point anymore?

He almost doesn’t bother to clean up the hut, although he manages to sweep out some of the sand (it’s impossible to keep it out, he’s tried everything) and organize the small stack of holonovels and the two precious holocrons he’d managed to save from the Archives. It helps keep him busy, anyway, and after a while he goes out to check on the vaporators, and he waits.

He’s been doing nothing but waiting, it seems like, these days.

Ahsoka’s ship lands on a dune nearby his hut, late evening, as the twin suns are slowly sinking into the western sky, turning everything blood red and warm gold and streaked with violet; Obi-Wan steps through his door and paces a couple meters from the hut, squints a bit against the setting suns.

There’s three figures walking towards him, silhouetted against the sky. Ahsoka is one of them, her montrals are distinctive, and he thinks the two others are clones - one’s likely Rex, the other another vod they must’ve gotten out. Good, that’s good, although it means he should’ve put more effort into seeming… normal.

As though there’s anything normal about this, a Jedi Master living in hiding on one of the least-liked planets in the galaxy, an absolute hive of scum and villainy, trying to evade his own men and his own padawan.

One of the two clone-figures freezes in place on top of the nearest dune, and Obi-Wan frowns, narrows his eyes, notes the other (who must be Rex - it’s not like Rex would be surprised by Obi-Wan’s appearance) taking the first clone’s arm. He watches them a moment, then shakes himself, turns back to Ahsoka, who’s nearly to him, crosses the last of the distance himself and sighs. “Ahsoka, what’s this about me losing something?”

Ahsoka just smiles (damn it, but he’s fairly certain she picked that trick up from him) and nods a bit back at the two figures making their slow way down the face of the dune, and in that moment, the light shifts and he’s finally able to make out their faces.

Thick dark hair, longer than he remembers, falling into amber eyes colored with apprehension and shame, a scar curling around his left eye.

Cody.

Obi-Wan doesn’t entirely realize he’s moving until he stops in front of his Commander, who hasn’t moved a muscle since their eyes met, is not-quite-shaking, the last golden-red rays of sunlight melting over his face and setting him ablaze. “Cody,” he says, soft, too soft, lifts one hand to ever-so-lightly skim across Cody’s scar.

“Sir-” Cody’s voice is strangled, and he tilts his head into Obi-Wan’s hand, seemingly unable to hold still. “Sir, I didn’t mean- I’m sorry,” and his voice cracks and shatters, tears welling up brightly-crystalline in his eyes.

“Oh, Cody,” Obi-Wan says, and pulls his Commander into a hug. Cody buries his face in Obi-Wan’s shoulder, and Obi tilts his head so he can tuck his nose into Cody’s hair, letting out a breath it seems like he’s been holding since his world came crashing down. “None of this is your fault, my dear.”

Even when he feels Cody’s shoulders shake beneath his arms, it still takes Obi-Wan a moment to realize his Commander is crying.

He’s only ever seen Cody cry once.

(It’s a long, somber hyperspace trip back to Coruscant from the mess that was Umbara; Scratch and half his medical team are on board the Resolute, tending to saber wounds and exhausted troopers, leaving only a skeleton team in the medbay. At first, Obi-Wan thinks that’s where he’ll find Cody, checking in on their injured, but to his surprise the medbay is quiet, the lights dimmed to night-cycle brightness. Cody’s not in the barracks, either, which is where he should be, sleeping off their latest battle - nor is he in the mess, where they meet late at night when nightmares get to be too much and neither of them can stand to be alone with their thoughts.

He finds his Commander standing at one of the massive bay windows facing out into space, staring at the blue glow of hyperspace, casting his features in an otherworldly light. He’s whispering, under his breath, lips barely moving, and although he can’t hear the words Obi-Wan thinks he knows what’s being said.

“Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc,” Obi-Wan says, soft, stepping up beside Cody’s shoulder. “Ni partayli, gar darasuum.”

Cody twitches slightly at the Mando’a, turns his head to look at Obi-Wan, and only then does Obi-Wan see the tears on his cheeks.

“Waxer,” Obi-Wan says, and Cody nods.

He tugs his Commander into his arms and lets Cody cry on his shoulder, and after a while shifts him so they’re sitting, back against the wall, the blue of hyperspace turning everything blue, like his lightsaber, like grief, like the paint on all those broken bodies. Eventually Cody’s tears peter off and his Commander dozes off, head on Obi-Wan’s shoulder; he sits in the silence and watches Cody breathe and tries not to feel helpless.)

“It’s going to be alright, Cody,” Obi-Wan says, pulling himself to the present with an effort, and kisses the top of Cody’s head. “I’ve got you.”

Obi-Wan tilts his head to one side, just a bit, and Rex catches his eye, hands quickly sketching out a message in the old GAR sign language: we’ll wait on the ship. He nods once in acknowledgement, tugs on Cody’s shoulder just a bit, says, quietly, “Why don’t we go inside? Rex and Ahsoka will join us in a bit.”

“Okay,” Cody says, raspy and hoarse, pulling back completely and shifting as though he intends to fall into parade rest.

That won’t do at all.

Obi-Wan tucks an arm around Cody’s shoulder, pulls his Commander against his side, and turns and starts for his hut. “Come on, cyar’ika,” he says, lightly, the endearment slipping out almost without his notice. “We have a lot to talk about.”

Cody nods, hesitantly slips his own arm around Obi-Wan’s waist, and Obi-Wan smiles and hopes that for once, he won’t have to let go.

[silvereddaye]

If you’re still doing prompts could you do prompt 34 and 62 for Jocasta and Dooku please? Maybe With Jocasta being a Sith lady towards a Jedi Dooku

The Geonosian bugs dragged him through the hive palace. He hung limpy in their hands. His black hair fell in front of his face. Dooku simply didn’t have the fight left in him. He was here to investigate and mediate between the Geonosians and a shipping company. However, the talks turned violent. The bugs were never ending and eventually he collapsed. Now,the bugs turned into a room and threw him to the floor. His body was sore. His Jedi robes were in tatters. Burn marks littered his body from near-missed blaster shots. 

“What have you brought me?” came a silky smooth voice. It sent a cold shiver up his back. He heard the sharp tap of boots as they approached. He was soon staring at a pair of black shiney books. The tip of the boot forced its way under his chin and pushed his head up. “Well. This is a delightful surprise.” 

Dooku’s mouth fell open as he stared at a woman. She was dressed in black leather robes with red stitching. Her pale blonde hair was pulled back in a sharp bun. She had dark markup around her eyes that made her gold eyes stand out. Her red lips pulled up in a smile. 

“Hello there Jedi,” she said with a purr. 

He noted the lightsaber hanging on her hilt. She unhooked and turned it on. A red beam sprung to life. 

“Sith,” Dooku hissed. 

Had the Sith returned? After all these centuries? He had to get back to the Order. She turned the saber off and clipped back on to her belt. 

“Up,” she ordered. 

Dooku only glared at her. 

“You work for me,” she said in a low voice. “You are my slave.” 

“I will not bow for a Sith,” Dooku muttered. 

The Sith lady sighed. She walked away and returned holding a whip. “Well,” she said with a smile. “At least you’ll make this fun.”

——-

The days dragged into months. He tried to escape. Tried to get a com out. No matter what, Darth Agnitia was always there. Whether it on her ship or one of her various dwellings. She traveled around the galaxy collecting information. Most of these were in forms of holonovels, though some were filmsi books or scrolls. Sometimes she took records of old carvings on the side of stone walls. Every now and then she recorded a story from someone. 

“I am making an archive,” she stated when he had asked her what all of this was for.

“For the Sith?” he growled. 

“No,” she said calmly. “For the galaxy. I’m collecting knowledge and history the Jedi don’t want to be known. Things that have been marked off as too blasphemous or goes against their image for the galaxy.”

“Nonsense,” Dooku said. “The Jedi Archives are complete.” 

She laughed. “And can you access all of those archives? Could a regular person? Even if they are complete as you claim, there are things they will never share with people who aren’t Jedi. Even then some of the knowledge is forbidden to members of their own Order. That is not free knowledge.” 

“Some things are perhaps too dangerous,” he countered. 

“And who gets to decide that? Why not the person reading it?” 

“Like you?” 

“Have you seen me do anything dangerous?”

“You depapitated that old man and his guards just last week!” 

“Oh he was a hoarder,” she said with an eye roll. “Just collected stuff to collect it. No intention of doing anything with all of those books and artifacts. Probably never opened any of them. He just wanted to use it as a status symbol.” 

“And would you kill Jedi to get to the Temple archives?” he asked. 

“Ohhhh?” she purred. A wave of heat ran down his side. “Don’t tempt me to reveal what I would do to get my hands on the Jedi archive.” 

———-

They were on another mission. They were off on some cold outer rim world. Agnitia was up late pouring ancient texts she had pulled up in some tower at some crumbling palace. They were staying the night at such palace. It was drafty and the wind outside was harsh. It whistled through whatever cracks it could find. Dooku shivered as he curled himself up in his blanket. 

His thoughts were on the Sith lady he had been a slave to for almost a year now. Part of what she said made sense. There was knowledge out there that Dooku had never known about. Histories that had obviously been forgotten. Such as this place. A great war had happened here, but the records had burned or destroyed. The Jedi had aided in this destruction because it suited their needs. 

His bed shifted as Agnitia sat on the edge of the bed. 

“Can’t sleep?” she asked. 

“Cold,” he muttered. 

She slid over and snuggled up against him.

“Yes, it is,” she said. “That is why we should be together like this. Generate more body heat.” 

He said nothing. But it was getting warmer. 

“You know,” she said softly. “If you can’t sleep, we could have sex.” 

He looked at her. “Are you serious?” 

She smiled that devilish smile. Her hand slid around his neck. 

“It’ll heat us both right up,” she said as she leaned and pressed her lips against his.

[crqstalite]

pt. 1, unforseen (felix && naji)

this turned out so much worse than i wanted it to.

i was actually kind of worried to write this chapter because while i did have the headcanon that force-sensitives could sense their children’s presences even before they were born, but by the time i wrote this chapter i was so absolutely done with trying to characterize the crew right that i just gave up. ;-;

also like?? there are no felix fanfictions anywhere n im so disappointed. even compared to like, torian, felix has like, none. so i guess i gotta write em’ all lol.

enjoy if you can. it does get pretty depressing near the end though :/

written: 7.28.19. word count: 2,686

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character song: imagine, ariana grande

character file: naji iresso, barsen'thor, felix iresso, lieutenant

-

there’s another presence on the ship.

she feels it washing over her, whether she’s meditating or relaxing alone in her quarters. it’s there, it’s warm and beautiful. it’s much like felix’s, like the sunshine on voss, with a bit of a cooler tinge. but it wraps over her like a blanket or a hug, which is comforting in the dark nights aboard the defender.

while it is wonderful, naji is beginning to think there’s an intruder on the ship who’s really, really good at hide and seek. naji has hunted every single corner of the ship, even getting her husband and other crew members involved, but she can not find it. whatever is causing the extra presence, is either invisible or very, very small.

nadia mentions that she doesn’t sense it when she’s alone, only when she was around. and naji trusts she does meditate on her own, which she finds odd. she can’t ask any one else, because no one else on the ship is force sensitive in the slightest. thank god it’s not a cold aura, because naji may have had to fight herself (preferably with a blanket) to ward it off.

she’s reading a holonovel when she hears her name being called from outside her door. it’s…holiday? for a moment, naji forgets she was given access to the ship, and often appeared wherever she pleased except for their quarters. it was a tough week or so before she buckled and allowed tharan to install sensors in the defender for her to appear where she chose. there was one event in particular that lead to naji and felix making a rule that holiday wasn’t allowed to enter unless they gave her explicit permission, one she’d rather not remember right then.

“i’m alone, you can come inside, holiday.” she says softly.

holiday’s slim pink frame shimmers into view as she smiles to the jedi. naji isn’t very good at reading the hologram’s emotions, but she has a mischevous grin that reminds her of tharan’s when he has some sort of new project he’s working on. she’s up to no good, and she refocuses on her reading. “jedi, i may have found the answer to your…‘force presence’ issue!”

her capacity for not only sentience but a real voice box is amazing as she shrills the last part of her sentence (she didn’t ever tell tharan that, his ego would inflate further than the ship could handle, but she was in awe of his work). “is it a good thing?” she asks, as she continues skimming the holonovel. she’d read this one before, a published diary by an old war hero, and was just getting to the mid-climax of the book. “there are no intruders aboard the ship, i hope.”

“not exactly…” she clasps her hands together as she disappears and reappears into view, sitting on the bed next to naji. she props herself up on her elbows next to the barsen'thor, who turns some of her attention to the hologram. “you did say you wanted kids one day…”

“that is true, holiday.” naji smiles to herself as she flips the page. it was a dream she’d had since she was young, but given her position as a warden of the order, felix and her had pushed it back as far as they could. in the prime of their lives, neither was exactly ready to have to resign themselves to the ship or an apartment to care for a child just yet. home was where the heart was, and her heart was with felix iresso. naji wasn’t ready to share it just yet with a baby. “why?”

“well, where do you think that force presence is coming from, if only you can sense it?” holiday purrs, rolling onto her back.

“i’m not sure, holiday.” she answers absentmindedly as the other female groaned. “why, where do you believe it’s coming from?”

“naj, you’re a great person, you’ve helped tharan day in and day out and are even the warden on the jedi order. but could you please listen and think for just a second?” she nearly begs the woman. “why else would i ask about a force presence and then kids within the same span of five minutes?”

“i’m not su-” she pauses for a second, halfway in between flipping another page without even thinking about holiday’s question before the realization sinks in. the force presence was relatively new, and while small, it enveloped her in a way she’d never felt before. only before when she’d reached out in the force for a younger being, such as nadia or the younglings at the temple. innocent, full of life and a passion for adventure. a fire that couldn’t be quenched, but a soft, warm feeling that left you feeling euphoric.

but…

turning slowly to the smirking hologram, she puts the holonovel down on the opposite side of her, trying not to show the anxiety pulsating through her veins as she continues thinking, running a hand through her hair. “holiday, what are you implying?”

“i think you know exactly what i’m implying.” she grins, but her face drops once she sees that naji hasn’t broken into a smile yet. “naj, you do know what i’m implying, right?”

naji stands from the bed, holonovel forgotten as her eyes darken, her hands becoming sweaty and heart rate increasing. “h-holiday-”

“naj, aren’t you happy?” holiday asks, disappearing and reappearing next to her. a panic attack is creeping up, as her chest tightens, her hands wrapping around herself, tears begging to fall from her eyes as the pink woman is trying her best to comfort her. “i’ve heard most women are excited at the whole 'expecting’ part. i’d never be able to bear my own children.”

“holiday, get. out.”

“naji-” the hologram knows she can’t touch her, as her hands phase through her as the jedi flinches away from her, a fearful look her eyes. “it’s going to be okay-”

“holiday i said GET OUT.”

holiday pauses for a moment, as if she’s run into a malfunction or a bug, before lowering her head and shimmering out of her room. she’s shivering, as if it’s too cold in the room as her vision blurs. she can’t help but panic, she’s afraid. it was bad enough she’d gone behind the council’s back and married not even another force sensitive, but a solider. something she’d sold out another padawan for while she was on tython.

and now what?

she was already carting felix off on mission after mission to save the jedi from utter destruction, attempting to keep the republic in one piece. she was trying to be her best, she wanted to be her best. she wanted to be the padawan everyone saw when she arrived to the temple, the one they could rest all their hopes and dreams for the future on.

what would they think of her then? she’d broken the jedi could already, passion was something she fed off now. was she dipping into the dark side already? naji never felt darkness around her, and nadia admitted her force aura was like the suns of tatooine.

and now she was possibly dropping a baby on him as well?

staring at her hands through teary eyes, she couldn’t help but think,

'where did i go wrong?’

-

felix knows something’s off as soon as he boards the ship after a particularily harrowing supply run (imps, stars they’d be the death of him). usually naji always greets him when he arrives, or eventually comes out of the cockpit or from below deck. he doesn’t immediatly panic though, possibly she’s meditating with nadia, and he wouldn’t want to bother his wife if that was the case. she’d get so wrapped up with her padawan some days that she’d be in a trance for maybe an hour afterwards until the bond was severed for a bit.

but, the ship is oddly quiet. zenith sits at the table near the intercom, in his own world of politics and freeing refugees (all very admirable), so other than an offhanded wave from the sandy colored twi'lek, he heads belowdeck.

what’s off is that there’s hushed whispering. qyzen is tinkering with something near the ship’s engines when he checks that room, and that nadia is nowhere to be found in the medbay (where she usually resides), and he picks up his wife’s name from holiday’s voice in the cargo bay. it’s too quiet, but the female hologram sounds concerned.

“holiday! you know she’s sensitive, why would you do something like that behind her back?” nadia asked hushedly. “you didn’t even offer to help her, you just dropped it on her like a bombshell!”

“i’m sorry, nadia. but it was either that or the multitude of other things that could happen if you ignore it for too long. after a bit of research on the holonet, i found out that using the force extensively can endanger not only her but-”

“yes i know that!”

“you didn’t know that beforehand, did you, nadia?” holiday sounds exasperated as he creeps further and further down the stairs and near the cargo bay’s doors. “i thought she’d be happy, i know i’d be!”

“holiday, dear. our fair nadia is correct in her assessment of your actions. this shouldn’t have been taken so lightly. you are aware of her and lieutenant iresso’s position on the matter.” tharan says, as he catches felix’s eye as he steps into the cargo bay, shifting awkwardly as neither woman meet his gaze. “lieutenant, you’ve arrived back to the defender in one piece.” tharan welcomes him back in a slightly standoffish manner.

“that’s right.” he says, raising an eyebrow. “what exactly did you drop on naji, holiday?”

if a hologram could seem embarassed, holiday did in that moment. she flickers in out of existence, hiding behind a curtain of hair as she frowns. she still freaks him out a bit, with the increased sentience. he keeps thinking she’s a real person, just halfway across the galaxy. she lowers her gaze, not meeting felix’s. “where is she, anyways?”

“she’s in your quarters.” nadia answers quietly, arms crossed. less being threatening, but a stance he often noticed was the product of anxiety from the younger woman. “holiday, you tell him. it’s your fault we’re in this mess.”

instead of answering, she shuts off completely. tharan sighs, and felix knows that there’s no way he can get her back. forcing her back into a holographic form causes some uneeded technical difficulties, including being shocked with a low-voltage electric shock if she was feeling particularily mischeveous. “do i have to ask one of you?”

nadia and tharan share a look before turning back to him. “i feel it would be impersonal if we tell you. you may be more inclined to ask your fair jedi.”

“what’s so wrong? is she okay?” he pauses for a moment before almost rolling his eyes at the two. “if you two keep trying to communicate through your eyes i will eventually get an answer from one of you.”

“of course, felix.” nadia says, twisting her robes in her hands. her haphazardly cut hair does nothing for the sad look behind her eyes as she excuses herself. tharan busies himself with something else in the cargo bay before scuttling out to speak with qyzen. out of sight of the others, he does try to keep from bolting up to his quarters, concerned for his wife’s safety. had she fallen ill without him ever knowing? naji did have a tendency for hiding her own pain in favor of healing his. while not a sage, she was was capable of healing faster than tharan could, even though it took a toll on her force abilities and health.

“naj?” he asks, knocking on their shared quarters’ door. “you alright?”

no answer. maybe she’d headed planetside for the night, but he found that unlikely. “i’m coming in.” he said softly, before unlocking the door.

as always, it’s dark. neither of them do much work here, so they have no reason to really keep the lights up that high or that bright. stepping inside, he can’t hear anything, and can’t see her either. however, she gives her position away as he hears shuffling from the bed. he can just make out her form underneath the rose gold comforter, and after slipping off his armor and boots, goes over to sit opposite to her. “naj, i know you’re there.”

“go away, felix.” he’s only getting more concerned, as her voice sounds hoarse.

“naji, did you get yourself sick?” he asks, turning to face his wife. he catches a glimpse of her puffy red eyes in the dim light before she rolls over to face the wall. she’d been crying, for whatever reason. or, she’s caught herself a nasty cold. placing a hand over her shoulder, she flinches before curling into herself. “don’t be like that, please. you didn’t even come to greet me when i got back.”

“i didn’t want to.” she mumbles, pulling the blanket over her head.

felix knows better than anyone that his wife has secrets, enough to fill one of those boxes and then some. he doesn’t know enough of them to pull one to memory just like that, only that she’s been relatively sheltered within the temple since she was child, and that he was in absolute awe the first time he met her. but, something’s eating at her, and he’s not sure what. and seeing his wife in any sort of pain drives him mad, and not in the way he wants to be either.

wordlessly, he pulls the blanket back just enough for naji’s face to be facing him now. “naj, if something’s bothering you, you don’t have to face it yourself. we’re a team, remember?”

her hair pools around her in a blonde ocean as he brushes damp strands of it out of her face. she must’ve been crying while he was on the ship, and a part of him wishes he’d ignored tharan and the others and come straight here. “what’s bothering you?” he whispers as he helps her sit up against the headboard. she slumps further onto him, a few quiet hiccups escaping her.

“h-holiday-”

“i already know she told you something. she didn’t elaborate.” he answers, smoothing back her hair before she looks up at him, blue grey eyes red and shiny with unshed tears.

“i-i’m so sorry, felix.”

“for what? you never did anything wrong.” he responds. “naj, you’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

“i should’ve been more careful, this was never supposed to happen, and now…” she trails off into silence. “the force presence i felt, it wasn’t an intruder.”

“okay?” he asks, before she cuts him off.

“felix, it-it’s a child.” he can almost hear her tears rising up again as he tries to take stock of the situation. “i, i messed up. i’m..pregnant.”

felix iresso hates one thing (well he heavily dislikes quite a few things), and it’s when she cries. he doesn’t like it when anyone cries, but when naji breaks down, something in him shatters.

he lets her cry, because there’s no stopping her when does. she’s not a loud crier, but her weeping is enough to make anyone shed a few tears. given, they had both been extremely careful since their first time together (and one of the few times they were every together in such a manner), as she’d expressed her concern of ending his career early (though he’d assured her he was her lieutenant first and foremost) with the prospect of a child. as the warden of the order, he could only imagine how disappointed and crushed she’d be to lose that position that she’d worked her whole life for.

“naj, you don’t need to cry over something you can’t control.” he says quietly, as she shifts herself to rest her head on his chest. “it would’ve been nice to wait a while,” a long while, “but whatever you want to do, i’ll support you through it. whether you don’t want a baby around, or you do, i’ll always be here for you.”

naji’s content to stay with him for the rest of the night. they don’t talk, not about anything. their impending future or her breakdown earlier in the day. the one thing that he does intend to ask her in the morning, as she reads in his lap, is that she wasn’t going crazy. felix had felt that presence too, though he figured not nearly as a strong. he’d thought she’d been running a fever everytime he’d even grazed her skin. but as he adjusted his grasp around her waist, he smiles. deep down, he does hope naji keeps their baby. something with such a bright presence couldn’t be anything that bad.

-

i really hope i characterized felix right. he and andronikos are my favorite romanceable companions.

[melanoradrood]

ficlet : teach me how to touch

prompt request : Virgin Cassian requested by: @dracosollicitus​

WARNING: IT’S PORN Y’ALL

Also Found on AO3

They’ve gotten this far before, where his shirt is off, and hers is halfway up her stomach, but they’ve never gone further. They both know where the line is, have discussed their pasts, and she knows all about how little he truly knows, despite being five years older than her. Sex isn’t something he has time for when it comes to pleasure, and when it comes to business, well… he gets this far, extracts what he needs, and is then gone, a shadow in the night, leaving behind a target that is still gasping for air.

Her shirt is still on, and this time, he thinks he’s ready for it to come off.

She knows more than him, so much more, and Cassian is okay with that, he really is. He’s glad that one of them knows something, that she knows how to touch herself, that she’s able to show him how to touch her, but he still feels clumsy, his hands feeling too rough and awkward. She gasps, though, when his calloused fingers run over her hip, and her lips part under him again, pulling him in for another kiss.

Her shirt is off and over her head the second that they pull away for air, and he has touched her before, touched her under her shirt, but never without her shirt there to hide her from his eyes. He wants to look, to touch, to explore, but the light is out, and he can’t see much.

When he mouths at her breast, she ends up just brushing him aside, almost impatient.

“Your pants,” she demands with a huff. “Just push them down so they’re out of the way. I have to take mine off.”

He nods, because he trusts her, and he kicks them past his knees - he thinks they should be off all the way, but she had said to just push them down, wants to do as she says.

Her legs are lifting on either side of him, and he can’t see much in the dark of the room, but she had insisted… Jyn knew best. He was definitely going to trust her on this.

When her legs are on either side of his, he leans down, goes back to kissing her. He’s good at this, great at this, and everything slows down for a minute, their bodies rocking together like they have a hundred times now, it seems. He can feel her, though, without fabric in the way, and he definitely wants to explore her, to touch, to taste.

He might not know a lot about actually having sex, but he’s on a military installation. He has heard the pilots talking about going down for a taste. He knows that they always get their girl off first, talk about how it keeps them coming back for more.

He wants to do that with her, and his hand slides down her side, down her stomach, his fingers searching for-

“What are you doing?” she asks, and she sounds breathless, breathless from his lips, and he shrugs, even if she can’t see it.

“I’m trying to - I know I don’t know how, but I want to try and finger you.”

He can practically feel her stare, knows she is blinking, is processing the words - “But why?”

Cassian doesn’t know how to describe it, but suddenly, this feels really important, even if he doesn’t fully understand. “Because it feels good, to make you feel good, so that you-”

“That’s pointless. You don’t have to waste time doing that.”

Something suddenly doesn't feel right. Nothing about spending time with Jyn could ever be a waste, and nothing about being with her would be pointless. He wants to protest, but then he feels her hand wrapping around his cock, pressing it to her entrance.

“Stop,” he says, and she lets go of him immediately, like her hand is burned, and he pushes himself away.

“What?” she asks, and she’s sitting up, he can tell that much, but he still can’t see anything. “Are you not ready? Cassian, it’s okay if you’re not ready.”

He wants to tell her it’s that, because that would be easier, but the truth is, he is ready. He has been ready, but he doesn’t think they’re on the same page. He wants to enjoy this, wants to experience this, and she seems to be in a rush.

“It’s not that, it’s just… can we slow down?”

He thinks that might be the right words, and then he’s leaning forward, kissing her. Jyn kisses him back, and it’s so soft, so gentle. He thinks back to their first kisses, how rough they had been, how she would push him against a wall, fight with him for control when he was happy to give it up, and he has to wonder…

He knows that he hasn’t had sex, but he has to wonder if what she has had of sex, if it’s the same thing he wants with her.

Is the kind of sex he wants with her even possible?

They’re getting lost again in their kissing, and when his body settles over hers, he grabs at her hand, the one not on her back, and threads their fingers together. He can feel her react, the soft gasp of her lips, and he squeezes her hand, telling her he’s right there as he rocks his hips against her.

She’s wet, wetter than she was before, and he wants to explore that again, let’s go of her hand, and slides his fingers down beside his dick, his fingers finding soft skin with a little hair and all of the wetness he has imagined.

For ten seconds, his fingers slip in, running up and down, the tips brushing against a sensitive bud - and then she’s jerking away from him, the breathy moan fading in the room.

They’re both breathing hard, but he doesn’t move, just waits for her to say something.

“Cassian-”

“Why can’t I touch you?” he asks. He wants to know, to understand. “I want… I thought that was part of sex, touching each other.”

There’s a long moment of nothing but heavy breathing, and then Jyn is sucking in a breath, and- “I don’t know? I just… it’s not normally like that.”

He wants to see her, wants to touch her, and he shifts forward, reaches for the light beside the bed. It turns on, and they both look away from it, the light filling the room. His pants are still around his lower legs, keeping him from moving easily, and she’s reaching down, grabbing her shirt, trying to cover herself.

“And why can’t I see you?”

He’s sort of in love with her… he wants to see her.

The hand on the shirt stops, and then she drops it, drops it back onto the floor before looking at him. His eyes are on her face though, not looking down. He wants to see her, wants to know her, but he wants her to open up to him.

“Jyn… what’s it normally like?”

He gets a shrug in response, but that’s not what he wants right now. He needs it to be verbal, needs her to tell him what it’s like for her.

“I don’t know - you know how war is. It’s normally rushed, have places to be, a quick fuck, and then you move on.”

He gets what that sounds like, has accidentally walked in on it a time or two, but that’s not… “But we’re not in a rush right now. We have all night. Does it have to be like that?”

He doesn’t know the answer, but he really hopes it’s a no.

Jyn doesn’t say anything for the longest time, just looks at him, and after a while… he starts to worry. She’s not saying anything, not doing anything, and then he realizes what it is… she’s thinking about what it could be like, thinking about what she has imagined, thinking about something that tells her it could be different.

“Tell me,” he says, and it sounds more like he’s begging than commanding, and she shakes her head, her cheeks going pink.

“It’s absurd. I just… I read this holonovel once, and it was supposed to be romantic, and it-”

“Tell me, please?” he asks again, and this time it’s definitely him begging.

“Well just…” He doesn’t interrupt her again, because he can see it forming in her mind, can see her trying to find the right words. She’s always so careful, picks and chooses what she says so it has meaning, so he waits, watching the blush spread over her skin, trying to not look down.

“So, the man… he’s pretty sure they’re never going to be together again, and he wants to take his time with her, so he pulls her onto his lap to kiss her, and she’s… she’s wearing this wrap skirt thing or something…”

She’s thinking about it again, and Cassian takes the time to kick off his pants, and then shifts himself to sit with his back against the wall. Jyn seems to be lost in thought, like she’s remembering it, and not for the first time, he’s mildly terrified of her brain.

“So, he ends up getting her undressed, and then he’s… he pushes down his pants because he can’t wait to be closer to her to take the time to get them off, and then she’s… well he’s in her, and it feels good, and then they just… slow down.”

He doesn’t know what that means, but it seems to mean something to Jyn.

“And then they just… they kissed and touched and slowly built up speed, and it was… I don't know, it just sounded nice, to not be in a rush.”

He’s not sure if it can be like that either, but he wants it to be.

“I want to touch you,” Cassian says. He knows that she has touched herself, has heard her joke about the fact that she knows herself better than anyone, but he wants to learn too. “But that… I want to try that. Can… Can we?”

It’s the longest ten seconds of his life, just looking at Jyn, and she’s frozen solid, not even blinking, not even breathing - and then she’s nodding, her breaths coming in hard, and he has two seconds before she’s climbing into his lap.

It’s a good thing that his pants are already off, because in seconds, she’s straddling his lap, and his cock is slipping between her folds, running up her slit. He lets out a groan, eyes pinching shut, trying to resist how good it feels, but then Jyn is kissing at his throat, and he loses it.

He knows this isn’t sex, or at least isn’t the sex they’re going for, but he grabs her hips all the same, jerking them to rub himself against her. He’s not doing this right, he can tell just by how  much she’s bouncing, but it feels good to have her heat against him, and he can’t wait to be inside.

“I want to touch you,” he says again, and she huffs against his throat.

“You are touching me,” she insists, and her face pulls back from his skin, giving him a good opening.

“No, I mean like this,” he amends, and he leans down, mouth catching her nipple, and then he sucks.

Her thighs try to clench immediately, but she’s straddling him, and has no option to find some sort of grip. Her hands, previously on his chest, go over his shoulders, and she lets out a high pitched squeal.

He lets go after a moment, waiting to see her reaction, and -

“The other one,” she demands. “Use your tongue, your teeth, oh fuck, Cassian-”

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

Within thirty seconds, Jyn is rocking her own hips, trying to find something to grind on, and Cassian is pretty sure he might just cum before he’s even in her. He has to let go of her nipple, moving to the other one to lick at it, before pulling away, trying to slow her down.

“Woah, I’m going to blow,” he groans out, and Jyn laughs, like he’s crazy.

“That’s the point of this,” she insists, and no, no, on that one she’s wrong-

“The point of this is for us to both feel good,” he retorts, and her eyebrows raise slightly in response.

“Cassian… that felt good.”

It’s not the same, and they both know it.

“I’m going to make you cum on my cock,” he vows, and the sharp intake of breath she makes tells him that she wants that as much as he does, and he doesn’t know how he’s going to do it… but he’s going to try.

Everything slows down again, and it gives him time to think, to catch up.

Their lips are caught again, and she’s still rocking her hips slowly, but it’s nothing like before. She’s running her fingers into his hair, over his shoulders, down his back before dragging her nails up, and when she shifts forward a little too far, he realizes just how wet she is for him.

“I’m… help me inside of you?” he asks.

Jyn nods, shifting back down onto his legs, her hand gripping him, and he lets out a hiss. “Already so close, but want you to cum first.”

She snorts in response, she doesn’t believe him, but he hasn’t given up yet. She’s slow, though, and when she sinks down onto him… He really might not last. Not when he can feel how hot she is, how much she wants this, and when she rocks her hips, he thinks he might just lose it.

Instead, he grabs her, grabs her by her hips, his fingers digging in, and he pulls her close, so close she can’t get away, his arms going around her to hold her still.

She doesn’t move in response, just stays still, and his grip slowly relaxes. He really is so close, his breaths coming out in ragged moves, and he forces his eyes open, to look at her.

“What were they sitting like? Like this, or?”

“His legs were up, so she could lean against them.”

It makes sense in his mind, and his legs bend, giving Jyn the ability to lean back some, back onto his legs. The angle shifts, and suddenly Jyn is sucking in a breath, her back arching off of his legs, as though something is hitting just right.

“Good?” he asks, and she’s nodding, her body resting on his legs, her on his knees.

When he looks down her body now, he can see where they’re connected, can see beneath the dark hair exactly what he has been looking for. He can’t possibly get any harder than he already is, and he wants to feel her cum… he wants her to get off before he does, but he needs her help.

She isn’t looking, and he just - goes for it. Two fingers together, he slides them down where they are joined, underneath the hair, and finds a hard little budd, right in front of where his cock is. She tightens around him immediately in response, and he lets out a groan as Jyn lets out a shriek.

Whatever he just did, he did it right.

“Good, or?”

“Not as hard,” she breathes out, and he nods, lightening is touch, “-but more than that.”

He wants to do this right, at least this first time, wants to learn with time, but time isn’t on their side. She’s actually splayed out in his lap, his cock is buried deep in her, and if he wants her to get off, he needs help.

“Show me,” he says, and she groans a little, runs her hand down her body, in between her legs, brushing his hand aside. He grabs at her wrist, though, and pulls it out of the way, replacing her hand with his own once again. “No, use my hand. Use my hand to get yourself off.”

Her eyes open suddenly, her head tiling forward, and he thinks she might want to kiss him… except this angle is literally perfect, and he doesn’t want to lose this.

His fingers press against her clit again, rolling around the nub, and then her hand grabs his wrist, slowly working it forward and back.

“Separate your fingers a tiny amount,” she instructs, and he does so. Almost immediately, he can feel the difference, how he’s no longer pressing directly on it, is instead moving around it, the pleasure seemingly spread.

She doesn’t have any other instructions for a few moments, just using his fingers, and then she shifts her hips from side to side, drawing another groan from him. He can’t last like this, and it already feels like he’s on edge. Next time they do this, he’s going to finger her first, and fuck it, he’ll tie her down ( with permission ) so that he can explore everything that makes her moan.

Maybe he should start watching holoporn to get ideas…

“Can I touch your breasts,” he asks, and it suddenly hits him how hard he’s breathing. She tightens around him again, and he doesn’t want to groan, but really, he’s only one man.

“Please?” she asks, and her hold on his wrist has lightened. He’s rubbing at her now, trying to keep up the pressure, trying to keep his hand relaxed, but he presses too hard and gets a hiss. “Pointless, told you it was-”

“Shut up,” he groans, and he leans forward, licking her nipple. “Going to make you - I can. I can do it.”

He doesn’t want to hear her say again that her pleasure is pointless, because all he wants is to make her scream.

“You can’t,” she insists, and she’s crying a little now, almost in frustration. “You shouldn’t have to, it’s me, I’m the-”

His free hand moves to her mouth, covering it, and he feels her tighten around him in response as his palm flattens over her lips, keeping her from speaking anymore. The look he gives her tells her that he’s done, doesn’t want to hear it again, and when he moves his fingers again, he pinches the little bud a bit, then rubs gently, making her jerk her hips again.

That’s it. That’s what it is. He can do this, just like this, the little bit of roughness with taking his time.

“You’re going to cum,” he hisses, and he bites at the nipple he just licked, teeth tugging at the sensitive point before he moves over to the other one, his lips wrapping around it so he can suck. When he pops off of it, stretching her slightly, he looks up again, looks her directly in the eye.

“You’re going to cum for me.”

In all honesty, Cassian doesn’t know what to expect. He knows that women don’t shoot out their cum as men do, but he knows that there is some liquid. He knows that they feel it, that they can have multiples of them, but he doesn’t really know what they do. He knows that his own orgasms are in the fresher, hand on his cock, trying to be as silent as possible.

What he gets is outside of his imagination.

One second she’s fine, breathing hard, the next, he feels like his cock is being gripped by a hand, tensing and pulsing around him, and she lets out a scream against his hand. He releases her mouth immediately, and just watches, watches as her lips part and her eyes roll back in her head, and he-

“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck, oh fuck-”

He can’t help it, he really can’t help himself, his hips jerking in response, and his free hand moves to her hip, grabbing her so hard he thinks he might be leaving bruises in her skin. He jerks in response, a few shaky thrusts, and then he’s cumming so hard, his own eyes are rolling back in his head, and he can’t, he can’t breathe, he can’t even see-

She’s still whimpering, shaking against him, when he realizes what just happened.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I tried, but I-”

“Shut up,” she gasps, and Jyn wraps her arms over her chest, falling forward into him, her forehead pressing against his neck.

He’s not sure if this is a good or a bad thing, isn’t sure if she’s mad at him, if she’s hurt, and his hands go out to either side of him, not touching her, waiting for her response. He knows he was bossy, probably didn’t touch her right, definitely dug too hard into her skin, but she’s… she’s not pushing him away, only getting closer.

He’s literally not moving, scared he might do something else wrong.

“Put your arms around me, Cassian,” she mutters against his neck, and he… goes with it, because he’s still not sure what’s going on, doesn’t understand why she wrapped herself up with her own arms, but he’ll go with it. He’s careful, one arm loosely around her hips, the other over her back, and she cuddles in tighter. His dick is still sensitive and half hard, but with her shift, he slips out of her.

There’s a mess, he can feel it on his stomach, leaking from her, coming from off of him, but he doesn’t mention it, doesn’t move, still too stiff to move. He had blown it, literally. Somehow, he was sure he had managed to fuck this up.

“Stop thinking,” she huffs against him. “Stop being so tense. You just had sex, with your girlfriend, who you love. Just… just relax.”

He’s trying to, he really is, but it’s hard when he has literally no idea if it was any good.

“I… are you okay?”

Her head pops up, eyes thin, and she’s looking at him like he grew another head. “I just… I just had an orgasm on your dick. I just had the first orgasm of my life that I didn’t cause. What do you mean are you okay?”

He’s not really sure how to respond, but he feels sheepish now, his hand falling from her back to rub at the back of his neck.

“I just… I didn’t… last…”

“It was your first time,” she says with a sudden burst of laughter, and he’s pretty sure he was supposed to last longer… but first time might matter.

“So it was okay?”

Her hands come up to grab his face on either side, forcing him to look at her, and she shakes her head a little.

“You karking idiot… Cassian, it was better than okay. It was really really good.”

He blinks and nods his head, because okay, really good, that’s good.

“So you liked it?”

She just groans in response, shifting off of him, and yeah, there’s a mess of fluids on his stomach. A part of him is grossed out… a part of him wonders what it tastes like.

“Get cleaned up,” she says, walking into the fresher. “We’re going to sleep, and you don’t want to sleep with that on you. In the morning, we can work on improving any areas that you think are lacking.”

He nods at that, getting off the bed, following her into the fresher. He freezes, though, when he realizes that the bravado, the grins, all of it is gone from Jyn, and she’s gripping the sink, her head bowed slightly.

Now, it’s not about him, not about his performance. There’s something deeper here…

“Jyn… Jyn, what’s wrong?” he asks softly, and his hands touch her shoulders, run down her arms.

Her eyes close in the mirror, and he looks at them, watches as he presses a kiss to her ear. She’s smiling a little at that, and he knows that whatever it is, it can’t be too bad.

“I’ve just… it’s never been with someone that matters,” she confesses.

He kind of already got that impression earlier, but hearing her say it… he kind of has to respond.

“Thank you,” he murmurs against her jaw, and he presses another kiss there. “For showing me, teaching me… for being… you.”

He wants to thank her for being his first, but there’s a part of him that hopes she’s also his last, his only.

Jyn turns in his arms, smiling at him, and her fingers run into his hair, brushing the strands out of his eyes. “Next time, we’ll try it with you on top?”

He likes the sound of that, but then his cheeks go red at the thought of spreading her out and exploring her with his mouth first.

“What?” she asks, and she’s breathless already.

Instead of answering, he just shakes his head.

“Get cleaned up. We’re going to need our rest.”

[deepspacenightshift]

It’s so hard to find decent non-romantic holoprograms! I’ve heard that it’s different on starships, but it seems like on DS9 you find maybe one in ten holoprograms that aren’t titled “Vulcan Love Slave pt. 5″ or “Taken By Surprise” or “A Gratitude Festival Reunion”.

And if you count out the romantic holoprograms, the rest are... well... unpredictable. Klingon opera, “Heroic” Klingon holoprograms, Human action-adventure stories, educational holoprograms teaching traditional cooking of various species or pre-military Cardassian culture, complex strategy games for seven players, “Existence As A Crystal Being”, “Cuddly Critters For Children”, and “Moonlit Evening Meditation On Vulcan” are some of the ones I’ve seen while browsing.

[thebestparisyouhave]

Personal Log

Once again, I’m sneaking in a log while B’Elanna is asleep. We were supposed to go to bed early (to actually rest) before tomorrow’s training run, but I curled up behind her and she jumped me for a quickie then promptly passed out. I don’t know what’s gotten into her lately… Well. I might know. I’ll save that for the end of the log. First, I have to get this down.

Last night was unbelievable. B’Elanna modified a holonovel of the movie Zorro into this super sexy, meant-for-two, erotic fantasy. I still can’t quite believe what we did. Or how great it is to have a partner who thinks to do this stuff. Sure, we’ve done some minor role playing before. I’ve picked her up at the bar for a one-night stand, we’ve horsed around as Starfleet vs. Maquis, or kissed where it hurt as doctor and patient. Hell, we’ve even tried a few Klingon-romance-novel-something-or-others where I inevitably ended up with a broken bone, but THIS. This was totally different.

We dressed in period costumes. I had boots and a black cape and mask, B’Elanna wore a cream colored, loose corset dress with undergarments. We started out with a fantastic tango, then had a swordfight in the stables (where I snuck more than a few passionate kisses), we fought bad guys together, rode off on horseback, found a little oasis to cool down and had some of the most exhilarating sex…  All in all, it was amazing. I can’t wait to try some of the other scenarios B’Elanna thought of. How did I get so lucky?

I guess it shouldn’t surprise me that B’Elanna would think to do this for us, but what did surprise me was how tired she seemed afterwards. I barely got her home. And also, okay this is going to sound strange, how good her boobs looked. Her boobs are always great but I swear they’re different somehow.

Which brings me to what I want to note in my log. I think… oh boy. I think B’Elanna might be pregnant. I’m not sure. I’m not even half-sure. So I’m not going to say anything, at least not yet. Maybe it’s all in my head, but I’ve been noticing little things lately, small differences in the way she’s acting. Our replicator rations are constantly at rock bottom and I know she’s been eating in the mess too and having snacks thanks to her team; meanwhile I’ve been losing weight. Her sex drive is off the charts, which is saying a lot because, well… we generally have a lot of sex anyway, but lately I can barely keep up. And then, what I noticed last night about her physically and also how tired she was. Tonight, she looked wiped after her usual ten-hour shift.

Anyway. Like I said. I’m not mentioning a thing. Maybe there’s some other perfectly good explanation for all of this, it could just be her body adjusting to the lack of contraceptives, or that this newlywed phase is much more exciting than I anticipated. Most of all, I don’t want to project my hopes onto her or make her self-conscious. She doesn’t need to feel like she’s letting me down or that I’m obsessing over children. No, if my guess is correct, then this is something I would like for her to realize on her own.

But boy. If she is pregnant… wow.

[proudtoehaver]

Jedha’s Legacy - Chapter 6: Intimacy

Finn quickly showers and changes for bed, pulling on the T-shirt and sweat pants he usually sleeps in these days before settling down with the first of the holonovels.

A quick scan on the index reveals neither Datung nor Beshen-42 mentioned anywhere, but he tries not to let that discourage him. If either name is only brought up in passing they might not have been considered important enough to be listed, but any kind of information would be more than he has. So he settles down and begins to read from the beginning, even if it gets him nothing else it'll provide him with another view of galactic history than the one the First Order force fed him and lend truth to the lie he told earlier.

Zapal proves to be an engaging writer with a lot to say and her passionate style a difference in the dry one he's been used in history texts.

He continues reading until his eyes begins to droop and the text start to blur in front of his eyes. Knowing that he'll get no further today, but still distressed at the lack of information he puts down the holonovel, turns off the lights and closes his eyes.

                                                         oOoOo

It is there, right in front of him as it always is, the yellow orb with the larger pinkish one right behind it. It feels like they're calling to him, their vibrant beauty touching something inside of him for which he has no name.  

Time has no meaning here and yet it passes. All too soon there is a change, a presence he can feel somewhere behind him.

It has come.

He hurts all over, the silence is roaring in his ears. He wants to shout, to warn, but he has no voice.

A spear of green hurtles past him, straight the yellow moon and when it strikes the orbs shatters.

Something shatters inside him as well and he falls.

There is no up, no down, no point of reference in the void, perhaps he falls forever or perhaps it ends, but suddenly they are there. The three men, the young, the tall and the blind.

His chest and throat aches as he looks at them, all three of them so serious as the stare back.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

He knows they'll talk to him and he knows he won't be able to hear them, but this time the dream breaks form.

The young man steps forward and holds his hand out to Finn. He's dressed in a form of tunic that reaches past his knees and baggy pants, all of it in light blue. His black hair and beard are short and neatly trimmed.

Hesitantly Finn takes the young man's hand. The young man points off in the distance and for a moment all Finn can see is the same empty void as it always there, then as if it has always been there, there's a majestic mountain range its peaks reaching for the deep blue sky.

The yellow brown rock of the mountains seems to almost glow, something that Finn cannot put into words, a power or sense of strength, emanating from them. It pushes and pulls at him.

The young man makes a gesture as if to say 'come' and starts leading Finn towards the mountain range and as they move closer the sensation increases.

Finn looks up at the looming peaks as they near them, jagged and sharp like they would cut the sky I they could. So absorbed is he by their ominous majesty that he doesn't notice how close they are to them and then they pass through the rock and stone, engulfed in an odd shimmering darkness that all colors and none at the same time.

Beyond lies a cavern, wide and open, its ceiling rising far above Finn's head. So far it is almost lost in the forbidding red light that fills the cave.

The light brings with it anger, grief and a heart rendering loneliness that overwhelms him.

No, no, no, no.

He can't think, he can't breathe in here.

Unthinkingly he tears away from the young man and flees as fast as he can.

                                                           oOoOo

His chest is tight when he wakes and tears stings the corners of his eyes. The room is pitch black but the imperative to move overrides everything and propels him out of bed.

The icy feel of the metal floor against the soles of his naked feet jars him out of the last tatters of web of sleep, but the pressure in his chest doesn't ease, nor does his heart stop racing.

Where can he go? Who would-

"You can always come in."

Poe!

The thought sends him into motion and he quickly make his way across the floor, picking his way in the darkness, through the fresher and into Poe's room.

The other man's room is just as pitch black as his own and it's filled with the soft, snuffling sound of sleep.

What had he been thinking? It's the middle of the night, he can't wake Poe up.

But before he can retreat back the way he came there is a soft beep from somewhere to his right. To Finn it sounds almost deafening

"Shhhh," he hisses. "Don't wake-"

"Mmmmmph, Beebeate what is it? Are we under alert?"

Too late.

There's shuffling of cloth, the creak of a mattress and then the muted light from Poe's bedside lamp fills the room. Caught, Finn shifts on his feet, not knowing where to look as Poe sits up in his bed, rubbing a hand over his face.

"No, it's- It's just me. Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you, I wasn't thinking."

"What's wrong buddy?"

Far too conscious of the tears still trapped at the corner of his eyes, Finn can feel the heat rise in his cheeks.

"Buddy?" Poe asks as he gets out of bed and walks to Finn.

This is ridiculous. It had just been a dream, why is he making such a fuss over nothing? But he feels his owes Poe an answer for waking him.

"It's just- The dream came back and you said that, that well, I could come in if..."

"Yes." Poe holds out his arms and though part of Finn still wants to downplay the whole thing, the terrible ache that's still lodged in his chest moves him forward and into Poe's embrace.

Poe folds his arms around Finn and rubs small circles on his back with one hand. Finn finds it difficult to relax at first, uneasy for reasons he can't name and braced as if for an attack. But if that is what he expects it never comes, instead Poe just holds him gently and mutters, "I'm here. It's okay, I'm here," into his ear.

Finn can feel how the heat from Poe's body seeps into his own, and he smells nice and warm from sleep. Hesitantly Finn wraps his own arms around Poe's waist, puts his cheek on Poe's shoulder and allows Poe's warmth to melt away the terror.

"I don't want to be alone," he mutters against Poe's shoulder. The words bring with them a brief moment's anxiety when he's said them.

"Then stay," Poe replies, words that chases the nervousness away. "You can sleep here if you want to."

"I do."

The admittance makes him feel calmer and when Poe gently tugs him towards the bed Finn willingly follows.

Beebeeate have been hovering like a nervous ball near them and now he spins rapidly on his axis the way he often does when he's trying to cheer someone up. Finn can't help but chuckle at the antics so he supposes it works after a fashion.

Then he looks at the bed and the nerves that had just left him begins to skitter beneath his skin again.

"You okay?" Poe asks.

"Yes, I- I just never done this before. Shared bed with anyone. I was thinking about the logistics of it."

"Nev- No, I suppose not. Okay, lie down on your side and face the edge of the bed."

Finn slips beneath the covers, laying down the way Poe told him to, right at the edge of the bed. Poe crawls onto the bed and scoots up behind him, chest pressed against Finn's back, knees tucked up behind his. He slips one arm under Finn's neck and wraps the other around his waist.

Finn stiffens, heart hammering in his chest. It's a lot of body contact and having someone snuggles up behind him like this feels both weird and new.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," Poe says as he begins to pull away again.

Finn grabs hold of Poe's wrist.

"Just, give me a moment okay. I said I've never done this before."

Poe settles down again, but Finn can feel a rigidity in him too now.

It is an odd sensation, having Poe so close in this way, pressed up against his back, arms loosely wrapped around him. A little overwhelming too and it's accompanied by an odd feeling of agitation but not a form on it that's unpleasant. Just a lot.

Finn focuses on Poe's hand that's lying flat against his chest, the feeling of the fingers through the fabric of his shirt and slowly begin to relax. And it's Poe, who always has a smile and a kind word for him, no matter what else is going on.

"It's... nice," he says to Poe, to say something to put his friend at ease though it sounds a bit silly to his own ears.

"Nice?"

"Mmmm. Feels warm."

Poe untenses and his arms tighten just a little around Finn. That feels kinda nice too.

"You good to go back to sleep then?" Poe rubs his arm and Finn can feel the calluses on his fingertips against the skin of his forearm.

"Yeah, though it always takes me a while to fall asleep."

"Don't worry about shifting about. Once I'm asleep it can take a bit to wake me."

Finn nods.

"Shall I turn of the light?" he asks.

"Do that. Goodnight again, Beebeeate."

"Goodnight Beebeeate," Finn says as well, turning off the nightlamp. A soft thrill of beeps fills the dark before the room falls silent.

Poe falls asleep almost immediately and Finn can feel the soft regular huff of his breath against the back of his neck. Another new feeling, another one he decides that he likes. Now that there's no pressure and he can relax into it is pleasant to have another person this close, to be held in this way. He could get used to it.

The panic he had felt upon waking is all but gone, and the safe feeling of Poe's arms and the heat coming off his body, melts away the last vestiges.

His eyes feel heavy and sleep beckons far more quickly than it usually does, but he finds himself fighting it. Not because he's afraid to sleep, in this safe cocoon he feels like he might never be afraid of anything ever again, but because he doesn't want to lose that feeling.

When sleep finally overtakes him, his dreams are not of yellow moons or looming mountains, but of gentle hands with calloused fingers caressing his cheeks and neck, and soft lips brushing against his own.

                                                          oOoOo

Poe wakes to the feeling of a warm, heavy body pressed against his own. Sleepily confused for a moment as he doesn't recall bringing anyone to bed with him, he hasn't in years, before remembering Finn coming in in the middle of the night. He must either be a heat seeker or a sleep snuggler because he's practically lying on top of Poe.

The slow, regular breathing tells Poe that Finn is still soundly asleep something Poe is private relieved of as he has noticed a personal and kind of embarrassing problem. His waking mind might be able to suppress his attraction to Finn, but his sleeping body has no such defense mechanism and right now he's having a fairly noticeable physical reaction to Finn's closeness. A reaction Finn won't be able to miss the moment he wakes, as his thigh is currently wedged firmly between Poe's legs. A position Poe under other circumstance wouldn't be objecting to, but it could make thing awkward when Finn wakes. Finn might be less than enthused to find Poe having a literal hard on for him and the last thing Poe wants is to make Finn feel uncomfortable.

Slowly he tries to shift away under Finn, just a little, enough that things are not quite as... obvious, but Finn immediately tighten his grip and hooks his leg around Poe's.

Despite his embarrassment and mortification Poe smiles in the dark, feeling a tug at his heartstrings at Finn's actions.

Beebeeate's whistle-beep pierces the silence in the room.

"Shhhh. You'll wake him," Poe hisses.  

"Yes, I know we have to get up soon," he adds in a whisper at Beebeeate's subsequent query after having shot a quick glance at the chrono, its numbers glowing in the dark. "But he hasn't been sleeping well. I'd rather he sleeps as much as he can."  

And then maybe Poe can find a solution to his predicament before Finn awakes.

"If you want to go on with your day don't let me stop you, but please don't wake him."

There's a huffy tone in Beebeeate's departing salute, but he rolls out the door without further ado leaving Poe and Finn alone in the room.

Poe lets out a slow breath.

"That droid is getting bad manners," he whispers under his breath.

The room once more dark and quiet Poe again tries to shift out from under Finn, achieving the same result. Or lack of it. Finn really does make a convincing impression of an octopus in his sleep.

Huffing he relaxes back down on the bed. Maybe he can think it away.

Come on, you don't want to make Finn uncomfortable, do you?

His body is less than cooperative, a warm, sleepy, cuddly Finn too alluring for it to ignore.

Finn shifts in his sleep, restlessly, getting closer to waking.

Damn, damn, damn, damn.

"Mmmmmph." The incoherent sound from Finn is accompanied by more movement.

"Goodmorning buddy," he says, trying to sound as unconcerned as he can. Maybe he still has time to move away before Finn notices.

"'morning," Finn says, his voice slurred by sleep and nuzzles his head against Poe's shoulder.  

Poe can feel how his heart skips a beat in his chest. Finn sounds so relaxed and unguarded here in the dark. If only he could think of a way to surreptitiously move away.

Finn is the one who ends up solving the problem, casually moving his leg away but he keeps his head on Poe's shoulder.

"Sorry," he mutters. "Didn't mean to get familiar like that."

"It's-" Poe's voices cracks and he clear his throat. "It's fine. I just didn't want you to feel uncomfortable."

"Don't worry, it happens sometimes," Finn answers, patting Poe's stomach.

The laid-back tone in Finn's voice and his casual manner makes Poe wonder if Finn had ever had the chance to wake up like this before and if so, with whom.

"When do we have to get up?" Finn asks, interrupting Poe's thoughts.

"Soon, I'm afraid."

Finn groans and pushes upright. Poe reaches out and turns on the bed lamp. Finn looks different than usual. Normally he's so put together, all sharp folds and neat corners in his dress, but now he's rumpled from sleep and there's a crease on his cheek from a stitching in Poe's shirt.

"Thanks for letting me stay here."

"Any time."

"That's nice of you, but I better not make a habit of this."

"Why not?"

"Come on, I can't sleep in here every night."

"I mean it, why not? It's my bed, I'm the only one using it. No one else in the room but Beebeeate and he adores you. So I ask again, why not?"

"I just- It-" Finn lets out a huff. "I'll think about it."

"Sorry, didn't mean to get pushy. I just wanted you to know I genuinely meant it."

"It's okay. Thank you."

Poe looks at Finn. He wants to say something more to make sure that Finn has understood, that he's gotten through the invisible wall that Finn sometimes has around himself, but he can't think of a way to do it that doesn't make him sound like an overbearing asshole.

"What?" Finn asks. "You keep looking at me funny, do I have something on my face?"

"Yeah, a crease right there," Poe laughs and points to Finn's cheek.

"Where?" Finn asks rubbing his cheek.

"Here," Poe answers trailing his fingers across the line where the crease is.  

Finn's skin is warm and soft under his fingertips, smooth even with the minute bumps from the crease. The feel of it makes Poe's heart beat faster and the way Finn just looks at him steals his breath away.

"It's almost gone now though," he says, retracting his hand.

Finn raises his hand to where Poe's fingers just touched, a faint smile gracing his lips and a tender look in his eyes.

"That's good. I can't go around looking creasy," he jokes. "I suppose we better get up now," he adds with a sigh and climbs out of the bed.

"Yeah, I suppose," Poe says, following Finn's lead. "See you at breakfast."

                                                       oOoOo

Finn shuffles back into his room and begins to get ready for the day, but he doesn't feel the least bit sleepy anymore.

Waking up in Poe's arms had been a novel experience, a nice one. Warm and comforting, even with the slight awkwardness. Finn isn't quite sure what to make of Poe's physical response, if it was just a guy thing or if it meant something more. He's glad that Poe didn't make a big deal out of it though, he had felt far too cozy and snug lying there to want to deal with any added complications.

But the way Poe had invited him to come back if he wanted to, that surely meant something more? Wouldn't it?  

And the way he had touched his cheek.

Finn lets his finger touch his cheek where Poe had minutes earlier, the touch lingering in his mind as well as on his skin.

Sighing he tries to put it out of his mind, it's far too complicated for him to deal with this early in the day, but that just leaves ample room for his mind to wander to the dream he had last night. He doesn't understand why this one lingers so, why it keeps repeating itself over and over. Though the cave last night had been something new. And why he remembers them so clearly. Usually his dreams fade immediately upon waking, if he recalls anything at all it's gone by breakfast. But not these.

His gaze falls on the two holonovels on the night stand and with a jolt both Poe and the dream is forgotten.  

Datung. Home.

Tenderly he touches them, fingers trailing across their surface.

Please have something about home.

Home. The word had never meant anything to him, until now. But now it makes his chest ache and all he wants to do is stay here and read all day in the desperate hope that there is something in there.

But he can't. He has a job to complete and once he hands the map over to Brace there will be other tasks for him. Exhaling slowly Finn removes his hand from the holonovels, determinedly turns around and retrieves Brace's map from the safe and heads off to breakfast.

[warp6]

The Incongruity of Softness

I offered 5-10 sentence fics as a favor in return for readers of my WIP doing me the favor of giving me some extra feedback, and, as mentioned when I filled mia-cooper’s prompt, I’ve never kept a fic to a short word count in my life, sooo... This is this for the inimitable @jhelenoftrek. It ended up blooming even farther over the supposed sentence count than Mia’s and became enough of a Thing that I put in on AO3, which I decided to roll with since Helen wrote me not one, but TWO, fics when I was sick/sad about being Left On The Wrong Side Of The River this spring. So she deserves much thanks for that as well! <3

(And yes, I promise am still working on the actual WIP that started all this.)

Prompt: I don't see nearly enough writing about Chakotay building things. Can you write something about him in a wood shop for me?  Or making something with his hands?

content warnings: past battle/intense violence description; past major injury description; food mention

Fun Facts:

The Nechayev knitting joke is a bit of a mythology gag (let’s pretend I planned it that way rather than realizing the happy coincidence as I was already typing it out), since Natalija Nogulich is an IRL knitter!

Tomorrow today, June 24th, is, in fact, National Praline Day. Happy NPD!

Read on AO3, or...

The circular saw bites through the soft pine-like wood, spraying aromatic sawdust across the floor. The tarp spread over the carpet under my makeshift workstation shows off the pale specks like stars, except in the places where my feet have scuffed through the drifts as I work. If the tarp were a galaxy, my footprints would be...black holes? Exceedingly large black holes wider than Federation space?

Oh, well. No analogy’s perfect.

I have eight front chair legs cut--a much simpler process, merely trimming the ends of the pre-cut alien wood--and twenty-one days to cut these angled back legs and all the other pieces, and assemble the four chairs and their matching table. I could have made any other gift for the newlyweds, of course, any of them less time-consuming, but I wanted to do this. A family should have some furniture that isn't replicated.

Kathryn has been making a lace table runner, knitting the delicate pattern by feel. Sometimes as I pass by her door, I can hear her voice querying the computer about stitch count or pattern rows, and the calm tones of Voyager’s response. At our first dinner back in the mess hall after the mission, I told her--Kathryn, not Voyager--that she should save her time. After all, what crewmen would dare use a tablecloth made by their captain? She just laughed and told me we should visit the newlyweds for dinner, and then they’d have to. And when we’re there, Chakotay, you spill just a drop, just a drop of red wine on it. Then it’s no longer flawless, and they can use it when they have a gaggle of fat, rambunctious babies and they’re all throwing mashed carrots across the table.

I don’t know. I don’t think I’d risk staining a gift from my commanding officer, even if my other commanding officer messed it up first.

I would. If Admiral Nechayev gives me a table runner when we get home, I’ll use it.

Well, Kathryn, you’re not just anyone.

The last scrap falls from the end of the fourth back leg, and I blow the sawdust from it--more a ceremonial gesture than a practical one--and walk across the room to place it with the others. Every time I stand for a while, I forget the newly healed bones in my foot, and every time I start walking, the unevenness of my gait reminds me. Enough crew members were injured during the mission that, in consultation with the brides-to-be, we ended up postponing Mariah and Evelyn’s wedding by a month and a half, long enough to get repairs comfortably underway, and for most of the wounded to recover or at least get mobile again. And, last but not least, for some of us to catch up on our gift-making.

It hardly seems fair, Tom opined the other day, leaning his elbow on our table in the mess hall. You two are pretty much obligated to make a gift for everyone who so much as gets a haircut on this barge. Births…weddings…milestone birthdays… The Captain made her future assistant a baby blanket way back in our old glory days in Kazon space, and now you’re both roped into making cutesy gifts for the next few decades.

Some of us might consider that a stroke of luck, Tom, Kathryn drawled in return. We have a chance to exercise our creative abilities, much as you do with your holodeck programs. In fact, I can’t help but notice that you’ve presented a new holonovel or setting to just about everyone who has had a milestone life event on board.

Yeah, Tom, chimed in Harry. We can’t help but notice.

Well, that’s different. I’m always trying to hone my skills, and if I happen to be working on something I think someone might like around the time they’re having their bash, I gift it to them. It’s not as though I suckered myself into Starfleet arts-and-crafts for the next few decades. He leaned back, smirking broadly, and the young ensign sitting next to him stiffened, eyes widening as though she expected lightening to strike our table in retribution for a mere lieutenant calling his commanding officers suckers.

Kathryn, of course, simply rolled her eyes and laughed, and I had to duck my head to hide my amusement at poor Ensign Blain’s shock at the humor--or what passed for it--on display at the officer’s table. This was the first time she had sat at the same table as her captain, or at least, the first time she had intentionally brought her tray to the table where Kathryn was sitting for a full meal, as opposed to Kathryn sitting at her table for a few minutes as she made a few connecting-with-the-crew rounds.

I could tell, without a word from Kathryn, that the first time she went down to the mess hall after the mission, she was assuming she would be eating close to alone. That instead of officers and crewmen joining the table where she sat with whoever on the senior staff was free, they would be inclined to avoid her, consciously or not. I could tell by the resigned yet still tense set of her jaw; from the way she took her tray and retreated to the corner table, taking a chair facing out towards the viewport so that no one would have to look at her.

It was with fierce pride and gratitude that I watched as, instead, more crewmembers than ever joined her. The trend continued over the following weeks: crewmembers of all stripes, from the middle-aged officers who were Kathryn’s closest friends off the senior staff to young, mildly terrified crewmen and everyone in between. Some of them were awkward about looking at Kathryn, but to a person, they were tactful. And they were there. I was still walking with leg braces for the first few weeks while my crushed ankle bones regenerated, and it was at once surreal, touching, and hilarious to see two young lieutenants bounce out of their seats at once when I made to push my chair out mid-meal. Did I need more ketchup? Yamok sauce? Mustard a la Neelix?

Glancing at Blain that day, I found myself thinking of the long, tense week near the beginning of our journey when she’d been laid up in sickbay with an alien virus. It was before many tight friendships had had time to form onboard, and it was Kathryn who dressed in full bioprotective gear every day after her bridge shift and sat beside her very young officer, reading aloud and talking to her and dozing beside the biobed through the night.

Reaching the midpoint of the next back leg, I power down the circular saw and reach for the jigsaw. I can’t help but smile as I inhale the scent of the smooth, pine-like alien wood gained in that long-ago trade with the Tak Tak and watch the sawdust drift through the air like stars.

I killed five or six aliens on the away mission. At first, it was a firefight, dodging behind rocks and into sodden ravines, but we lost our weapons before long in the crush of bodies and the driving rain. After that it was a melee. Fists against skin, boots against teeth, bodies slammed into the mud and piling on top of each other.

The first two I shot, phaser set to stun, but in a half-drowned bog, with the lead pellets of the enemy weapons flying through the air, that was certain enough death. The next four I fought hand-to-hand, and it’s the last one I wrestled in the mud, the one who got his hands around my throat after I’d been shot, that I’m not sure whether or not I killed. There was a crack even over the sound of the rain as I got a knee into his chest and pushed, but I didn’t see whether his eyes went glassy or not. I didn’t see anything. I woke up in sickbay.

Five or six. The or bothers me. I took lives, and would like to know how many. But to choose a number would also feel wrong, as though I were trying to make something as real as life and death falsely pat for the sake of something as immaterial as memory.

So. I killed five or six aliens on the away mission. Kathryn must have killed a similar number in the melee, and at least a dozen more when she crawled into the enemy shuttle’s engine and triggered the explosion that ended the battle and ripped half of her face apart.

The chair legs have all come out well so far, the silken wood with its beautiful streaks and swirls cutting as easily as the pine they smell so similar to. I run my fingers gently over it as I set the penultimate back chair leg in the corner, wondering at the incongruity of this softness in hands that so recently spilled blood and broke bone.

I wonder if Kathryn feels the same dissonance, carefully knitting her domestic wedding gift by feel as the biobandage and headgear wrapped around her face do their slow work, regenerating muscle and cartilage and restoring the majority of her sight. I wonder if she has made a count of the lives extinguished by her actions and under her hands; if she has or’s, and whether she finds those uncertainties a torment or a comfort or besides the point. I wonder if the table runner will smell like her when it is finished, coffee and perfume.

The final back chair leg emerges from the alien timber, and I blow away the sawdust, setting the saw back on my makeshift worktable. Front legs and back legs are all stacked in the corner behind the couch. I’ll begin assembly after dinner, or failing that, after tomorrow’s shift--Neelix is hosting a dessert celebration tonight in honor of an ancient Earth holiday he rooted out of the database, National Praline Day. He declined to mention what Earth nation it was that set aside an entire day to honor pralines, but one thing is certain: like all of Neelix's cross-cultural culinary ventures, tonight will be an experience to be remembered.

I suspect that Kathryn will kick my ass if I walk over and imply she might need help getting to the mess hall--aside from her habit of self-reliance, Starfleet ships’ computers provide plenty of well-honed guidance for blind visitors and crew.

Still, we are both going to the same place.

I ring the chime right as the door opens and she emerges, stopping on her heel just before she collides with me.

“Come to escort your captain to dinner?” Her voice is amused, but with just a trace of warning.

“Come to ask if my captain will escort me.”

She chuckles and steps forward, reaching for me. Her hair swings near my face as she takes my arm, and I catch the scent of her, coffee and perfume.

“You smell like pine.” She is smiling at me, her lips curving upwards as much as they can around the thinner, contoured bandages covering the bottom of her face. “Were you working on the gift again?”

“Just now. Were you?”

“I was.” We step into the turbolift. “It’s relaxing, isn’t it? Working with one’s hands?”

“I’ve always found it to be.”

We ride in comfortable silence, which Kathryn breaks again as we step out of the lift. “Have I ever told you how much I appreciate that you make time for these things? Gifts; helping to coordinate celebrations? It’s not in your job description--well, not to this degree--and I appreciate you--” She pauses. “I could direct you to do a basic level of party planning, but...I could never order you to be the kind of XO who builds chairs for crewmen who are getting married. And I…appreciate that you are that kind of XO, Chakotay.” She’s already using her Captain Voice in preparation for dinner, all graceful humor and round speech-giving vowels.

“Kathryn, I think it’s safe to say that we both do more than a few things outside of our Starfleet regulation job descriptions.”

“Maybe so,” she allows with a light chuckle. Her footsteps abruptly slow as we approach the mess hall doors, though, and she halts just before they will sense out motion, turning to me and placing a hand on my chest.

“I’m glad we can do this,” she says softly. “I’m glad that, after everything, you’re still…we’re both still people who choose to do this.” With that, she turns back towards the doors and leads us through, gracefully unlinking her arm from mine as we mingle into the dinnertime crowd.

I’m glad too.

[ltbroccoli]

"Uh..." Reg frantically worked at the console for a moment. "Looks like it's not on the bridge itself. It's in the -- the access corridor behind the bridge. Tapping into one of the systems... maybe...?" He rubbed nervously at the back of his neck. "I couldn't say without... without seeing it. I could w-wake up Commander LaMarr..." The hesitation was obvious in his voice when he spoke. He never liked bothering LaMarr, even when the man was awake. Bothering him in the middle of the night was even worse. "Or -- or I could try and take a look. Sir."

( @nebulaties )

With the beep on the console, Ed took note of the frown on Barclay’s face. That wasn’t exactly what he was hoping to see. 

“The bridge?” He questioned, brows pressing together. He’d been on the bridge for most of the day, save for an hour or two he went to get something from the mess hall. There was nothing up there that would be able to drain energy from the orville that he had taken notice of. Nothing seemed out of place, the only fault was the power drain. Of course, he tried to place a thought on what it could be. 

The apology, it made his brow raise just slightly. “Nothing to apologize for. You did your job. We just need to figure out what could be draining the power from the bridge and why it’s doing it.” Ed knew it wasn’t Isaac, which would be anyone's first guess. He had been at his station all day. The power drain began while they were studying a magentar. “Do you have an exact location?”