#why are they so similar SKDBDH

[foxafterdark]

LEO MORE LIKE LFG

can I get “leave the heels on." for ujalane OR “after that little stunt? you’re not getting off that easy.” for ujalan(??? Quin and uj)

~Lo

[ prompts ]

bestie you can just say you want Uj to bottom wksbjdbddj ANYWAY I can't stress enough that I didn't edit this but I hope you like it anyway kiss kiss <3

prompt: “leave the heels on”

pairing: ARC Trooper Uj'alayi/Lane Hurosa

tags: 18+, M/NB, OCxOC, M receiving oral, M receiving anal, off-screen drag

wc: 2k+

posted to ao3

Sipping a glass of something electric blue and too sour for their taste, Lane shoves a hand in their pocket and shifts impatiently. Heavy bass thumps rhythmically through the walls, vibrating against their shoulder. In all honesty, they haven't been waiting that long, but excited anticipation makes their fingertips itch and their thoughts staticky.

Like he's fully aware of Lane's admittedly thinly veiled antsiness, Uj meets their gaze in the mirror and smirks. Partially removed eye makeup is streaked and smudged across his face, dark greens and black like shadows from harsh light.

These nights are rare, when Uj slips into a different kind of mask than his helmet. Dramatic pigment and careful contouring cast an illusion over his features, disguising tattoos and scars as temporary cosmetics, tweaking the appearance of his bone structure. In shifting and pulsing club lighting, most wouldn't even recognize him as a clone.

Fewer still would look past the padding and carefully hung fabric that obscure his figure, falsifying curves where none exist and drawing the eye away from broad shoulders and heavily muscled arms. Lane knows him well enough to see through it, but it's an extremely effective shield from bigoted eyes.

"I can practically see the gears turning in your head," Uj interrupts their ogling with the ghost of a laugh on his lips. "Care to share?"

Lane hums and scratches his nails through the back of his hair, carefully de-tangling sweaty curls. "Just thinking about how good you've gotten at this."

Leaning into their touch, Uj snorts softly.

It may not be the answer to his question, but it is true. The first time Lane was granted the privilege of an invite to one of his drag shows, he was still unsteady in heels and clumsy with eyeliner. He was still visibly uncomfortable. It's a far cry from the easy confidence he exudes on this night, fresh off the stage and glowing despite the exhaustion he must feel.

"I had a lot of help," he eventually says, resuming his efforts to scrub away makeup with a thoroughly used wipe and only succeeding in making a bigger mess of his face.

Shaking their head with a huffed laugh, Lane swivels his chair around and plucks the wipe from his hand. "You missed a spot."

"You gonna help me get it?"

"Hm. Maybe." After reaching past him to deposit their drink on the counter, they curl a finger under his chin and tilt his head up. "This is kind of a look, though. Very racoon-esque."

Uj's lips twitch as he fights a smile. "Just wait, I'll singlehandedly bring it into style."

"I think you should start going out like this all the time, to make sure it catches on."

"Maybe I will."

Despite their best effort, Lane cracks first, laughing brightly and bending over to Uj's eye level. "Coruscanti fashion won't know what hit it."

Whatever Uj would've said is muffled when Lane cracks first, again, and crushes their lips together. He tastes like cheap liquor and tobacco and it's nasty and it's intoxicating. They clamber onto his lap and only bang their knee once in the process. It's well worth it when Uj groans into their mouth, wraps his arms around their waist, and stands like they weigh nothing at all. Their lekku curl with approval, even after Uj drops them onto a ratty couch.

As distracting as the broad, bare expanse of his chest is, as much as they want to lean forward and bite into the meat of his shoulder, that's not what does them in. It's the clothing he still has on that makes their mouth suddenly go drier than sand. Namely, the thigh-high, black leather, high heeled boots. Before he can press them back into the cushions, they stagger to their feet.

Lane's height advantage over him is turned upside down as they look up at the self-satisfied grin on his face. Heat surges through their core. Abruptly, because it wouldn't work otherwise, they flip their positions so Uj is seated with Lane standing between his thighs. They murmur a curse and sink to their knees.

"You're a sight, jun tol," they say, running their palms up his thighs to tug at the tight material of his underwear.

"You're eager, cyare," he counters, even as he shifts to comply with their silent request. Lane pulls the offending garment down and off when he lifts up, but stops him before he can unzip his boots.

They brush their lips against the tight leather and murmur, "Leave the heels on."

His breath leaves him in a broken sigh, but he relaxes back onto the couch. Resting their cheek on his knee, they have an excellent view. Though untouched, his cock is hard and flushed, curving against his lower abdomen. Dark, trimmed curls fade into a happy trail, up his stomach - soft over thick muscle - to his chest. His cheeks are flushed and his pupils are blown wide. Waiting.

Lane watches with rapt attention the way breath catches in his chest when they drag their tongue across the leather encasing his lower thigh, then has to look away to suck a hickey into the skin above. Their own pants are getting uncomfortable, but they're determined to ignore it for the moment. They trail wet, nippy kisses up Uj's thighs until they reach the crease of his hip and bite down gently. A muscle in one of his thighs jumps and a calloused hand twitches on Lane's shoulder.

Part of them is tempted to drag this out. It's not often that Uj hands over the reigns like this, much preferring to hold tight control and give rather than receive, and the urge to savor the opportunity is strong. The burn of arousal and alcohol inside them is stronger. The overwhelming smell of musk and the salty taste of sweat and the press of thighs to their sides are all stronger.

They lick a long stripe along the underside of his cock, just to feel it jump against their tongue, before sealing their lips around him and hollowing their cheeks. Uj lets out a low moan that goes straight to Lane's groin. Only by wrapping one hand around his ankle and the other around the base of his length can they resist touching themself. The slide of velvety skin over their tongue is also an excellent distraction. Their eyes flutter closed as they focus in on the whisper light touch at the back of their neck and the stretch of their jaw and the strain in Uj's legs as he fights not to buck his hips.

And that just won't do. Lane hums around him and sinks down until their nose brushes thick curls. Uj blows out a harsh breath, speaking rapid-fire Mando'a that they can't understand, but his tone betrays desperation. The head of his cock nudges at the back of their throat, cutting off their air until they shift back, pressing their tongue up and sucking hard, then sink down again. They set a slow, intense pace. Swallowing around him punches a moan from Uj, curling their tongue around the head of his cock gets the slightest thrust up into their mouth. If their mouth wasn't full, they might smirk at how quickly Uj unravels.

He's never been much good at holding himself together when Lane goes down on him. Despite themself, Lane might let it go to their head. Just a bit.

Bobbing their head faster, they move a hand to lightly brush their fingers against his balls, then further back. With practiced motions, they knead just so, up, and there.

Uj swears loudly.

Every muscle in his legs goes taut and his hips snap up, testing the limits of Lane's gag reflex. Their brain goes a little fuzzy as he holds them in place and fucks into their mouth. Everything narrows down to his cock, hot and thick and heavy, chasing wanton pleasure.

Lane's pants are inordinately tight and decidedly uncomfortable, but they've come like this before. Untouched, on their knees, grinding against whatever grants a ghost of friction. The filthy promises spilling from Uj's lips and the ache of his cock at the back of their throat are like a drug.

On a particularly rough thrust, they choke, swallow, groan, and Uj comes down their throat. His hand is tight around the ba k of their neck, holding them down, and they can't breathe, and they can't think beyond sharp satisfaction. Distantly, they feel their lekku entwine in a tight twist. Right when their lungs start to burn, he lets them up to suck in a breath.

"You'll be the death of me," Uj declares, his voice thick with naked lust.

Swallowing hard and still panting shallowly, Lane grins up at him. "Only if I actually manage to suck your soul out someday."

He huffs a laugh and lets his head drop onto the back of the couch. Lane takes the opportunity to stand and press a kiss under the corner of his jaw. "I wanna fuck you," they murmur, scraping their teeth against his ear. Uj shudders. "Wanna bend you over this shitty couch and see if I can make you come again on my fingers. Then I wanna fuck you."

"Fuck," he replies, eloquently.

"You want that?"

"Yeah."

"You have lube?"

"At the counter. Top drawer on the right."

"Perfect." They kiss him a last time, letting him lick past their teeth and undoubtedly taste himself, then shuffle across the room to get what they need.

"You're wearing a lot of clothes," Uj remarks as they turn back to him, shucking off their shirt in the process.

"I was distracted." He doesn't move until they pause between his knees and tug on his hands. "C'mere."

With an exaggerated grunt, he straightens and pushes to his feet. It's impressive, his ability to stay steady in heels and kiss Lane like he's trying to consume them and maneuver until he's sandwiched between their body and the arm of the couch. His fingers drop from their jaw to their belt, deftly unbuckling it and loosening their pants enough to slip his hand inside. The sudden freedom and friction - just his palm grinding against their boxers - is enough to draw a soft moan from them.

They really won't be able to last long.

So they squirm out of Uj's grip and raise a brow at the all-too-innocent look on his face.

"What?" he asks.

"Just trying to guess what you're plotting in there." They tap a finger to his forehead before squeezing his hips and turning him around, brushing their lips against the back of his neck. "Now bend over for me, spitfire."

His knees don't bend when he doubles over and plants his elbows on the armrest. Palming his ass, Lane plants a kiss high on his back, just beside the plating around the socket for his cybernetic. As expected, Uj rocks back into their hand - eager - as they trail kisses down his spine.

Neither of them have much patience left. Uj rumbles a deep groan when lube-slicked fingers spread him apart, generously coating the rim of his ass and letting him adjust to the cold. He's tense, but clearly trying to shove aside his nerves. "Come on," he rasps, angling to fuck himself back onto their fingers.

"Easy," Lane murmurs. They rake their gaze appreciatively over the rippling muscle of his back and squeeze his hip, a gesture of silent support.

For all of the tension corded through Uj's shoulders, he takes Lane's finger with ease. He pushes back as they press inside him. He whines, high and needy, when they can't get any deeper. And gods—

"You're so fucking tight," they breathe, burning, aching.

Maybe they rush a second finger after only a few languid thrusts, but Uj meets them with enthusiasm. Curling their fingers against the bundle of nerves inside him earns them increasingly desperate noises and increasingly incoherent babbling. A third finger follows the first two.

"Lane," Uj says through a pitchy sigh, "if you don't fuck me now, I'm gonna–"

They withdraw their fingers and shove the rest of their clothes down around their ankles in a smooth motion. "Gonna what?" they ask, slicking themself and lining up with the fluttering entrance to his body. "Leave? Turn the tables?" Demonstratively, they grip the back of his hair, tight. "I think you'll take what I give you, whenever I give it to you. Won't you?"

Before he can answer, they rock forward just enough for the head of their cock to disappear inside him. And it takes everything to stop there. Lane can hardly think.

"Yeah," Uj moans, mercifully, "I'll take it– fuck– please."

"Good boy."

Only knowledge of Uj's limits lets them fuck down into him in one long, hard thrust. Tip to root, they bury themself in the furnace-hot vice of him. The pace they set is unforgiving - fast and hard enough to shove Uj down onto his elbows. They're pressed close enough to feel the leather of his boots against their knees. They're deep enough to feel every contraction of muscle, every ripple and rush of arousal. Again, the world narrows, this time to Uj's hole ceding to them like there's no other care out there. Like he was born to take them.

Desire drips like liquid flame down their spine and pools lows in their stomach. "I'm close."

"Me too," Uj sobs into the crook of his elbow.

"Gonna come in your ass," they carry on, largely on autopilot. "Gonna make you feel me tomorrow, with every little cramp."

"Come in me–"

"'Cause you're mine."

"Yeah."

"Say it."

"I'm yours."

Digging their nails into his hips with the force of their grip, Lane snaps their hips forward and true to their word, paints his insides. Pleasure explodes behind their eyelids like fireworks and twists through their core. Everything fades out for a beat before ebbing back. When they blink they eyes open again, they're collapsed onto Uj's back, still buried inside him.

Swallowing colorful language, they slowly, carefully, pull back and out to a way shlap. Uj huffs, but Lane is past caring about involuntary bodily noises. Instead, they wait for him to sprawl onto his back and then situate themself comfortably on top of him. His chest makes a wonderful pillow, and they tell him as much.

"Oh, thanks," he snorts. "I see that's all I am to you, an all-purpose body pillow."

"Yep."

"Ass."

"Yep."

"You're lucky I'm happy to be your body pillow."

They hide their smile in his chest, breathing him in. "I know."

[note: Ryl is tricky but I'm using "jun tol" to mean "my fire"]