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tbangles · 20 days ago

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Do Not Disturb

Cad Bane x Hondo Ohnaka (Banaka)

It was a rule: don’t bother him while he’s out on a job. Hondo seemed to think the rules didn’t apply to him, often breaking them without hesitation. It was his own fault for lettin’ him get away with it—but not this time. This time, Bane had deactivated his public channel, and it was only public if you knew his frequency. He had others, ones he kept to himself for the shadiest of deals—everybody had a secret or two they guarded against loved ones, didn’t they?

Notes/Warnings: This is a fic based on an already established relationship! This is SMUT. It is also CRACK and meant to be funny! Expect roughhousing, kissing, penetration, innuendos, dirty humor, and GAY OLD MAN SEX. I am using the Justifier, and Hondo is still on Florrum, so let's pretend this would happen around season 5 or 6 of the Clone Wars, hmm?

Special thanks to @allsystemsblue for helping me figure out Sriluurian curse words, for her thoughts about Hondo in general, and for being my cheerleader!

Word count: 7.2k

THERE WILL BE A PART TWO.

In his line of work, nappin’ was a luxury. Between scores, the droid manned the ship, or the ship manned itself, set to autopilot, directed by coords Bane had personally calculated.

The mind of a Duros was built for, among other things, astrogation and mathematical computation, but at the expense of a few hours’ sleep before it could be deemed possible. Equations just didn’t solve themselves. Hell, the computer could do it for him, but Bane was a stickler for checking things twice—it was how he'd stayed alive so long, and he couldn’t afford to quit now.

Minus the loose ends that needed tidying, the Duros was comin’ down off his last hunt like a drug addict off an incredible high, his pockets lined with creds and a satisfied smile daring to linger, the man finding himself to be as smug as a rich kid on Life Day.

Sometimes, things went so well it was suspicious, though he decided to let that funny feelin’ slide, oblivious to the misfortune that was about to befall him like some dunderheaded bantha-brain, failing to reactivate his comms in a manner that was timely.

It was just as well, hyperwaves were both hard to receive and transmit in the bowels of deep space, though Bane had all but forgotten his promise in the paroxysm of his exhaustion. How many rotations had it been? How many weeks had passed since he had last spoken to the pirate? He hadn’t kept count, not while he was in hot pursuit of a bounty with a hefty price on their head, one that was as wily as they were agile, sending Bane on a wild-goose chase from one end of Giju to the other.

And Bane was a private man. Nothing had changed, even if Hondo had wished it to. Bane wasn’t necessarily an old dog, but to retrain him was nigh impossible—the Quay would tell you that himself, tell anyone who would listen, frills bristlin’ every time his lover was unreachable.

The here and now was no different in the scheme of things, the only variable being the fluctuations of a certain scoundrel’s mood. The hunter had poured himself a measure from his personal stash, taken off his duster, and demanded his droid piss off as he kicked his feet up, soon finding himself dozing at the helm of his ship.

And Todo had warned him; had told him he had messages queued, waiting; seemed adamant about their importance, but Bane was in no rush, marching to the beat of a different drum, one that was stubborn and unyielding.

It was some hours later, his hat tipped low over his eyes, shielding him from the backdrop of realspace and those damn floodlights that shone ever so brightly, when he finally yawned. Ohnaka would’ve said he looked like a took’—teeth and all—as his arms stretched wide toward the hull before drifting back down.

Blue fingers itched the Nashtah-hide at his belly, though it was pointless. Nothin’ could get through there. Bane sat in silence, reacclimating to his surroundings, finally able to recall the first of ten equations that would carry him the ninety-six standard hours toward Florrum from his place in the Colonies, having parked himself temporarily at an orbiting waystation somewhere off the Rimma Trade Route.

It was only then he figured he’d loop him in on his whereabouts—no use mentioning it before now, knowing the pirate would make a fuss about the length of his trip, askin’ questions like “when are you coming home, my darling?” or makin’ him feel guilty by stating how much he had missed him.

It wasn’t that Bane didn’t miss him; Hondo was a distraction. It was hard to keep one’s mind clear, focused and alert when it mattered most if he didn’t cut him off. He couldn’t recall how many times he’d sent him naked holos when he least expected it, thinking he might save some of them as blackmail for if the pirate ever double-crossed him.

That wasn’t even the worst of it, it was the vids, the clips of Ohnaka in his office, spread-eagle while jerkin it, whispering obscenities, thinking Bane might enjoy his crude display. They’d argued over it once or twice. Hondo felt he was doing him a service for if he felt alone, perhaps thinkin’ he might one day receive something in return.

It was only when one such holo came through durin’ a meeting with none other than that gasbag Dooku that he’d nearly given up his ghost, not wantin’ to be seen in anything other than a professional light. Not to mention, Bane knew he had a bone to pick with the pirate; it was something he refused to talk about, but he hadn’t spoken to the Quay for weeks, and his poutin’ had been plain awful. He almost rather endure a conversation with Kenobi than to go through that again.

Still, he ought to check in, not allowing for his personal life to interfere with business. Leaning forward toward his comm display, the Duros would witness a series of blinking lights, red like that of his eyes, screaming silently for him to pay attention. He had a bad feelin’ about it, and he was usually right when something didn’t sit well in his gut, staring at the rapidly flashing bulb as it winked at him; taunted him; urged him to press the button just beneath it—the one that would play back all his pending messages.

“Greetings, my friend! I have been trying tu reach you about your speeder’s extended warranty, please return my comm as soon as you are able,” the first message began, Bane rolling his eyes at the pirate’s cheap joke, though he had to admit it was a tad amusing.

The next one wasn’t much better.

“Knock, knock. Who es dere, you may ask? Why, not Bane, of course, for he has refused tu return my call! Soon, ah, my love? I impatiently await tu hear your voice once more.”

The hunter sighed, wondering just how many of these he was going to have to subject himself to, though he dare not skip through them, or it might lead to him potentially losing out on a job. Maybe someone other than Hondo had commed him, though he had his doubts, shaking his head as he took note of the Weequay’s tone. It was progressively sounding more and more bitter, as if that would make Bane want to call him back.

“Bold of you tu continue tu ignore me when so many desperately wish tu seek an audience with me. Dey cannot be blamed, nu? Yet et feels like eons since we have spoken. I am not happy, Bane, but I will excuse dis your slight. Consider yourself lucky I bother tu try—and I du know someting of luck, ah?”

Bane would have almost felt guilty had the scoundrel’s words not come out as more of a warning than a petition for his consideration. And perhaps he was lucky. Not many dared to keep his company, nor put up with his special brand of bullshit, Ohnaka being one of the few to share his table, and his bed with the Duros, Cad having found himself all too comfortable, so comfortable, he wondered if he had begun to take him for granted. There were worse things, he supposed.

“Yetsut (Prick)! Embibatum (Deserter)! So wicked you are, savage! A terrible boy. I should want tu have nothing tu do with you! And yet… I find myself aching en ways endescribable, both en my heart and en my loins … Hurry back, Bane, lest you find I nu longer wish tu receive you upon your return.”

Bane’s brow ridge furrowed. Of all the fibs, that one outshined all of ‘em. He wasn’t sure what he had said, only picking up on a few Sriluurian words here and there in their time together, but he thought it must equate to asshole, the Duros snorting at how ridiculous he sounded when he got all riled up over nothin’.

But maybe it wasn’t for nothin’. It was clear as day that the Quay rather lose a limb than be apart from him, so the next message that came through was really no surprise at all, except for its delivery.

“WHY DU YOU HATE ME?!”

Bane jumped back, so loud was his query that he nearly lost his hat. This time, Hondo had recorded himself, the pirate’s face so close to the emitter Bane thought he could see the whites of his eyes.

“Why du you forsake me, de man who loves you? Should I return tu Aurra?” the holo whined. Bane blinked, then squinted at the tiny blue outline; he wouldn’t dare.

The man was crying, his sniveling and the sound of him blowing his nose dominating the one-sided conversation. Hondo waved a handkerchief for what Bane assumed was dramatic effect, the Duros folding his arms, refusing to buy into his charade.

“After everyting I have done for you, you cannot simply allow me your face tu be seen, tu hear your voice, or tu witness you touching yourself tu de thought of me—et es not right!”

Bane was tempted to fast-forward, realizing that Hondo’s diatribe was likely to go on for several minutes. Listening to his pleading at twice the normal speed, while watching the erratic hand gestures that accompanied his speech, only made it all the more humorous.

“Etesclearyoudunotcareformeonebit, disinowknowwithoutashadowofadoubt, butperhapsmyprickcanconvinceyouwhennothingelsewill,ah?”

Bane almost fell out of his chair when a shot of the pirate’s cock dominated his view, catching himself just in time before he teetered backward. “Fer kark’s sake!”

Letting the holo continue to play back, Bane witnessed all manner of things, things he wouldn’t repeat outside this room, slowing the recording back down when he felt he was nearing its end.

“… I am divorcing you! And du not bother tu come back!”

Bane snorted; they weren’t even married, for cryin’ out loud! Somehow, he had expected more, for the Weequay to have changed his mind. The timestamp read this last comm was transmitted more than four days ago, and Hondo hadn’t bothered to send anything else since.

The Duros’ mouth twitched. He sat there, the gears of his mind turnin’, having dealt with Ohnaka’s mood swings on more than one occasion, they nearly trumped his own.

Had he eaten that day? Was he tendin’ to himself in his absence? Had he run out of his favorite smokes, the ones that made him feel good? Was he experiencing an especially low, low? Had he talked to his mother?

Bane sighed again, this one to excess, his lungs expanding and contracting to their full extent. He rubbed the entirety of his face in the palm of his hand, reaching for the bottle he had left out earlier.

“Better get dhis over wid,” he thought, steeling himself. After downing another two fingerfuls of whiskey, he dialed Hondo’s frequency back on Florrum.

It rang and rang, Bane growing more sour by the second. Just what kind of game was he playin’? He nearly disconnected when the pirate finally picked up, or someone did, a pair of youthful, feminine legs filling the frame before they shrank back with a giggle, disappearing somewhere offscreen.

Bane felt his temper rising, steam threatening to shoot out of his ear cavities, the Duros baring his fangs at the image of Hondo who sat like royalty, his hair loose, full, and streaming down his back as he held what looked like a small mirror within his hand.

“Oh, et es you,” he said in a bored, bland tone. His helmet was off, his goggles were gone, and his coat was nowhere to be found.

“Who de hell was dhat?!” Bane growled, pitching forward in his seat.

“Heh, et es nooo concern of yours. We both know you don’t really care,” Hondo claimed dismissively, wafting a hand.

“Ah’s werkin’, ye cheatin’ piece a shit!”

The Weequay smiled a terrible smile, his cheeky grin spreading from one ear to the other. “Come, now. You could not spare a moment of time for me? I du not see why you are so upset. Dis es what you wanted, ah? For me tu move on with my life?”

“Yer dead te me, and whoever dhat bitch is, she’s gonna be next!”

Bane heard the woman gasp. Hondo’s mood changed yet again, in real-time. It was evident he now felt he should pacify the Duros; Bane always made good on his threats.

“My heart, wait, I—”

“—No, ye wait! Fer me te get dhere! Yer gonna see just how much it’s gonna cost ye—fer when ye decide te mess wid me!”

“But Bane, I was only kidding! She es my—"

The Duros cut the comm. “—hairdress … er. Ah. Hm.”

Hondo turned his head once the holoprojector went dark on Bane’s end, looking up at the terrified woman. “Iiiii suppose et es time tu put you en hiding until dis all blows over, my dear. But.” The Weequay fluffed out his mane of hair, letting it rest against his back and shoulders. “First you oil and reset my braids, yes?”

---

The hyperdrive of the Justifier worked overtime, the assault transport having enough fuel to get Bane to Florrum without needing to stop to fill up. Todo had done all he could to quell Bane’s anger, but he didn’t want it to be quelled, he wanted to stay furious, indignant at the Quay’s behavior, but worst of all, his perceived betrayal.

And it wasn’t just that he was angry. Bane had other feelings over it, complicated ones, ones he rather not share with anyone, but that were obvious should you know him well enough—and Hondo did—jealousy being at the top of the list.

Ohnaka’s men wanted nothing to do with Bane as he landed before the entrance to their fortress home, Weequay scattering like sandflies to all four corners, though keeping a wary eye on him. Some might say their species lacked intelligence; Bane would argue against that point at the end of his blaster, but no matter what the case, they knew well enough to stay out of his way.

Fury marked his features, the bounty hunter’s duster fluttering behind him as he stormed the pirate’s den, ignoring any dirty looks; any raised weapons; any whispers that accompanied his forward stride. He had barely ventured beyond the entrance to the grand hall when he saw Ohnaka seated upon his dais, though he did not look happy, ring-bedecked fingers drumming along the surface of a table. He perked up immediately upon seeing the Duros, barring his current disposition. No doubt he thought he would be able to subjugate his sullen mood.

“Finally, you have arrived!” Hondo began, standing to sweep around the table’s edge, his arms open and hands spread as if in greeting, though Bane had made it clear as to what he should expect.

“I was beginning tu wonder if you were indeed com—”

A hand cut off the king of pirate’s oxygen supply, Bane’s lengthy fingers curling themselves around Hondo’s throat. He did not so much as acknowledge the barrels of blasters that rose to meet him, the drawing of swords, or even the aim of a slingshot, knowing none of their ilk would be any match for him.

Even so, Hondo bade them to lower their weapons with a single wave of his hand. All complied, whether they wanted to or not, the pirate forcing a smile as he was pushed back against the banquet table resting just behind him.

“Darling, I du not mind dis, but ef I may so say, your grip es a little tight according tu my preference.”

“Where is she?” Bane hissed, the fine points of his teeth millimeters from Hondo’s face.

“Who, my love? My hairdresser?”

Bane shoved Ohnaka back with only a fraction of his might, though capable of truly harming him should he decide to do so. “De karkin’ girl who’s gigglin’ on dhat holocall,” he growled, “de one wid de long legs!”

“Yes, dat would be—well, maybe I shouldn’t tell you. She does a good job, does she not?” Hondo flipped one freshly oiled and set braid across his shoulder, running his fingers along the length of its many plaits. “We all know what happens when someone displeases you.”

“She ain’t de only one Ah’m displeased wid!” the Duros sneered, grasping Hondo by his chin. Bane’s fingers locked tightly around his jaw, slipping between the scoundrel’s frills. Then, he hovered close, his fiery eyes nearly boring through the pirate’s goggles. His olfactory organs sensed the perfumes, the oils, and something else—another Weequay—a female.

“Lettin’ her put her hands all over ye,” the hunter snapped, glaring as much as he was frowning. It took all of Ohnaka’s self-control not to smile again, knowing that Bane wasn’t actually angry, he was simply feeling territorial, and he thought he might be able to use it to his advantage, not to mention it was a bit of a stroke to his ego to top it off.

“Not all over, just my head, my neck … my shoulders, perhaps. Ears.”

Bane glared harder, his eyes forming slits. Hondo felt a tremor run down his spine, knowing full well that Bane favored his ear’s tapered tips and loved to fondle them from time to time.

“Ye done wid me? Ye fool enough te try an’ dump me ova de comm? Knowin’ Ah’s werkin? Knowin’ Ah told ye te be patient? Dhen ye go and get a girl te touch what’s mine?”

The pirate sulked, knowing the gunslinger could hardly stand his pouting, yet he felt his sadness returning, having only said those things out of desperation to see him, to hear his voice … which he was able to do so now, but not in the capacity he wished. Of course, it was truly flattering to be told he belonged to Bane, yet his pouting continued, nonetheless.

“I dedn’t really mean dose tings …”

Bane bristled, holding onto his anger despite his confession.

“I missed you, my love. I was hurt when you ded not comm me back.”

This seemed to have the opposite effect than the one he intended, Bane dragging him up to nearer his height by the edge of his ornate collar. Hondo’s feet nearly left the floor as he dangled there, at the mercy of his grasp.

“Ye play too god damn much!”

“Everyone …” Hondo said gravely, his tone turning dark, his voice somber, “out.”

Both men waited for the room to clear, some of the pirates lingering longer than others, giving fretful glances between one another, or elbowing each other as they snickered and leered.

“Ya know they’s gonna fuck!” one Quay shouted, though neither Bane nor Hondo budged, refusing to deny or refute his claim, or to agree.

Once his grand hall was empty, Hondo placed a hand softly against Bane’s belly. It was something that normally calmed him down, the simple gesture doing him wonders in that it released a high level of Oxytocin into his system, promoting feelings of calm and relaxation.

“Forgive me,” he begged.

This time, his tactic did not work.

Hondo gasped, Bane becoming nothing more than a flurry of tongue and teeth, smacking his helmet with the wide brim of his hat. He felt the Duros’ cuspids dig into the flesh of his neck, piercing his scales, Cad latching on as if to feed.

The Weequay whimpered before his whining turned into a lecherous moan, knowing that Bane had broken skin but caring nothing of it, as it wasn’t the first time—he had many scars and marks leftover from his lover, what was one more?

“Bane…” the pirate groaned, his instincts instructing him to rest one hand on the back of his head, his black skullcap. Truth be told, Ohnaka hated the hunter’s form of dress—it was so constricting, always in his way when he desired to touch him most. He felt his toes curling in his boots, Cad’s bite one to be relished, savored, something so pleasurable nothing else compared.

His prick throbbed; he felt Bane pull harder, the Duros’ slim fingers wandering down below his belt to caress Hondo’s swollen cock through his pants. He was already leaking, his tip wet as he thought he might blow any second, but no, he would not allow that to happen. There was too much at stake—him being properly laid.

Just when Ohnaka thought he could take no more, Cad pulled away, his elongated eyeteeth coated in black, the color of the Weequay’s blood.

He forced Hondo to kiss him, pink and onyx coiling together in a provocative dance. Having marked him, Bane sought to assert his dominance even further, pressing the pirate’s back into the table once more.

“Tell me yer a liar,” Bane rasped, pushing the edge of his thumb into the Weequay’s mouth. The slut in him began to suck, twirling his tongue over blue flesh, trailing up once he reached the top of his cutoff glove.

“For you, I will be anyting, darling.” Hondo took the time to lift his goggles, placing them higher up on his head, just below the edge of his helmet. His eyes were sparkling, like radiant crystals. Bane seemed enthralled, but for a moment; he would not allow himself to be taken in by his charm, his spell.

And the Duros did not approve his answer, that much was apparent from the way he continued to bare his fangs like some wild animal. Hondo sometimes thought it difficult to know what to say or when to say it, the hunter being as volatile as he was dangerous, not to mention sexy.

Secretly, he loved to make Bane angry, at least to the point he did not fear for his life, though he doubted his love would actually harm him, but one could never be too sure. There was something about it—the unchecked fury, the rise in his temper, the deeply resonate growl of his voice—that made Hondo so inexplicably aroused. He had always been a fan of high-risk men, and women, or for risk in general—it had a bigger payout, for one, and to love someone like this Duros was at his own peril, a risk he was more than willing to take.

“Whore,” Bane sneered, manipulating Hondo’s limbs without his say-so, twirling him about-face to wrench off his coat. The pirate gave a little yelp of excitement. He wasn’t sure if he was engaging in dirty talk or actually accusing him of cheating. Whatever the case, the Weequay smiled, even as Bane bent him over, beginning to unbuckle his pants from behind.

“No one’s te touch ye, naht even yer hair. Ah’ll do yer braids from now on, ye hear me?”

Had he seen the pirate’s expression, Bane may have laughed in that adorable, honking way of his, Hondo’s mouth having formed a nearly perfect “o” before it stretched wide, curling up at the corners. His eyes joined in, almost smiling in their own right, angled slits narrowing mischievously as the reality of what Bane had just said sunk in.

What he needed now was to protest, albeit lamely. To give just enough backtalk that Bane would have his way with him, not that he wasn’t already.

“But Bane, du you even know how tu braid? Sah—” He paused, almost giving the girl’s identity away. It was too soon for that, though he supposed he might be forced to tell eventually that it was Sahmet. Hondo mostly kept her around to mix him drinks. He quickly turned the first three letters of her forename into another word, one that would make sense. “Sah … ome. Some find et … difficult. And you du not even have hair on which tu prac—”

“—said Ah’ll do it!” Bane snapped viciously, whisking Hondo’s pants down to his ankles in one fell swoop. He was rather quickly assaulted by a breeze, having gone commando this fine evening. Most evenings. He hated wearing undergarments unless absolutely necessary.

Bane knew this, his frigid hand coming up and beneath Hondo’s undercarriage to cup his balls in its broad palm. The contrast in temperature was so sudden, Hondo involuntarily shuddered at the same time he moaned lasciviously, unable to control his reaction for how good it felt, no matter if Bane could crush his fragile testes like a pair of nuna eggs should he desire to do so.

The Quay gave a wry chuckle. “Careful, love! Du not ah … damage de Ohnaka family jewels, ah?”

While Duros’ sex organs resided inside themselves, Weequay’s did not. It was no wonder Cad could wear trousers that were so tight, the hunter practically poured into them, not that he was complaining about the view.

“Gonna damage somethin’,” Bane spoke low, Hondo’s breath hitching as he felt the Duros’ skinny hips press firmly against his backside.

“Hopefully… someting dat es easily repaired.”

“Ye never learned how te keep dhat mouth shut.” Hondo heard a clink, a soft grinding of metal, the rustling of fabric—and finally, the telltale sound of a thermosuit being rearranged, pried apart, reminiscent of wet rubber. He knew what would happen next, his scales teeming in anticipation.

“Dere es one way tu keep me quiet,” the pirate dared, his sexual innuendo not lost on Bane. Then, Hondo hissed through his teeth, something soft and cold fondling his ball sac, something that was saturated in a gooey, sticky substance that also doubled as wonderful lube.

“Please, darling, be gentle wit me …” The pirate wanted his back blown out.

“Ye know de werd.”

Hondo felt another something tickling his hole; the Duros had two pricks. He wondered if that had something to do with his piss poor attitude, too much testosterone, perhaps, though even so—Hondo was thankful every day.

Bane was … fun to fuck. There was no other way to describe his feelings, the Duros being a rarity among his kind for more than one reason, the ways in which they made love seeming to be endless, and never boring.

Jarring him from his thoughts, Hondo felt his neck being pressed upon as if by a weight, the Duros’ fingers lodged tightly around the pirate’s nape. He felt his face meet with solid wood, the breadth of Bane’s palm smooshed against flesh and frill to the point Hondo thought he could well be in a vise.

Then, the sound of leather, Hondo freed temporarily as the hunter’s gloves came off, Bane tossing them onto the table next to his head. Hondo’s excitement was hardly containable, a hard slap given to the fat of his rump. The pirate grunted before a sigh of longing overtook him—he ached for him—warranted by the swirling of his index finger, Cad circling Ohnaka’s rim with its padded tip.

“Du not tease, my love,” the eager Weequay scolded. Bane snickered, collecting a small quantity of his own cocks’ slick, wetting his hand.

“Do what Ah want,” he shot back, though he would not make him wait much longer, Bane’s long, lithe, lank forefinger broaching his entrance to its first of three knuckles; Duros had an extra phalanx that made this kind of thing all the more enjoyable.

An intake of breath. Hondo batted his lids before they gently closed. “Of course, how silly of m—”

Bane slid further inside before slipping back out, back and forth, the pirate left unable to speak—for once—as Bane prepped him for admittance.

Hondo felt him push lightly against his prostate. “Exquisite,” he thought.

He did not have time to think much else, Bane retracting his knobbed digit for one of his tentacular cocks to slowly begin to penetrate his ass. It slithered its way up inside him in increments, like a snake searching for something—prey—filling his rectum with an indefinable, uncharacterizable pressure a little bit at a time—a kind of pressure that he never ceased to get tired of.

Hondo dug his nails into the table’s surface, finding himself lifting his bottom as high as it would go at this vantage, even putting his back into it, wanting to wholly expose himself. Cad fit him like a glove, his body’s self-lubrication more than enough to usher him in—like an old friend he had long since missed.

“Bane.” He whispered his name this time, like a prayer, arching his lumbar region as he spread his legs wider.

“Predictable,” the Duros jeered, his sweet-smelling breath—laced with Ambrian cheroot; cloves—titillating the pirate’s ear as much as his deeply sonorous, rasping voice, “always wantin’ te get fucked.”

The Duros’ slender hips drove him forward, Bane’s malleable dick fully engorged with green blood and stretching Hondo wide, entombing itself to its base. He was admittedly careful—at least in the beginning—Hondo was thankful for that too, able to take his entire girth alongside rapid pants and salacious moans, each rib and crest of his comely cock sending a bolt of pleasure straight down through his belly toward his groin.

“Es dat what you call dis?” the bastard teased, aware of just what an insult like that might do. He was prepared to receive the consequences and then some, knowing the “and then some” might equate to double trouble—Ohnaka’s little pet name for Cad’s genitals when he was feeling in a funny mood.

The Duros sizzed menacingly in his ear, ramming his sinewy frame against Hondo’s that was more robust. Still, Bane’s legs were strong from all those acrobatics, all that training—it was nothing to shake a laser sword at, the bounty hunter having powerful muscles enough to force another lust-filled moan to spill from Hondo’s lips without much effort.

Bane thought he ought to be embarrassed.

Then, something that felt nearly like a tongue licked at Ohnaka’s taint, causing the pirate’s very bones to shiver down to their marrows, his own prick bouncing in time with every one of Bane’s violent thrusts.

It was pain and pleasure, followed by more pain as Cad sunk his fangs once again into Hondo’s throat—this time from behind. At the same time, his second cock slipped upward, just a little higher, lapping at his balls, leaving a cool, slimy trail in its wake.

“Beg yer pardon?” Bane seethed, his displeasure ostensible, the Duros’ sharp teeth raking across his earlobe next, threatening to bite there, too. Hondo was doing everything in his power not to blow his load too soon, lest he regret it forever and a day.

“I ded not realize you had already entered me, Bane,” came his snide reply, followed by a brief interlude of chuckling. “Es dat all you have got, ah?”

The pirate was playing with fire, though he wished to be burned oh-so badly.

A snarl—Hondo felt the Duros withdraw—had he gone too far? Would Bane leave him like so many times before, throwing what Hondo considered to be a tantrum? Preferable to death, of course, though Bane did not retreat, only from his innards, Cad spinning him back around so that they were face to face, and what a face it was.

Hondo grinned sadistically like the devil he was, yet he reveled in studying his love’s weathered and worn scales; his many scars; the beautiful way his eyes glinted though full of animosity; the points of his fangs. “Ded I touch a nerve?” he dare ask.

Bane threw him backward, shoving him flat onto the table by his throat. Hondo barely had time to gasp before Bane was dragging him back by the ankles, pulling his ass all the forward so that it hung off the edge.

“Oh, ho!” the pirate interjected, his smile growing wider. Bane was aware this type of thing gave the scoundrel a thrill, whether he meant to indulge him or not. And he was so much scarier than Aurra, though Bane had honor. Still, he knew even the Duros had his limits, that there were only so many buttons he could push.

“I like where dis es going!” Ohnaka teased, pulling an irritated growl from the gunslinger amid him lifting both the Weequay’s legs. He had gathered them together at the shins in one ginormous hand, pushing them back and over Hondo’s helmeted head, locked tight together. Hondo had an unobstructed view of Bane’s stacked cocks should he peer around his own thighs, the one residing on bottom seeming to take up a life of its own.

“Dhat right?” the Duros asked with a questioning lilt, though it wasn’t meant for him to answer. Bane’s tone was beyond aggressive—livid—a sinuous appendage finding its way back into the warm depths of Ohnaka’s rectum, only this time he did not bother to graciously take his time.

Hondo felt his prick couldn’t be any more erect, almost painfully so, its head taut and shimmering, beads of precum seeping from out his slit. Bane dropped the pirate’s legs atop his shoulders, and Hondo scrambled to wind them tight, pulling him toward him as much as he was holding Bane hostage deep inside him. The Duros’ cock snaked up, up, then prodded at that small, sensitive gland just below his bladder. The feeling was almost too much for the Quay to bear.

Hondo’s eyes began to roll; Bane gave a short, obnoxious little laugh of derision, then retained his focus, his expression hardening as did the thick phallus that was interred within Ohnaka’s bowels, inch by glorious inch. Had the pirate thought he was already stretched, he groaned in ecstasy as Bane pushed him to the brink, the other half of his hemipenis staying limp; pliant, though deciding to curl itself around the base of the Weequay’s girth.

“So, did ye fuck her?” Bane asked out of the blue—no pun intended. Hondo found himself suddenly more alert contrary to wanting to give into pleasure, Bane’s backup cock like that of a boa constrictor around his shaft, his breath staggering as Cad began to squeeze.

“Wh-what?” Hondo asked, dumbfounded, not thinking Bane truly believed he had lain with anyone, well, recently. Not since before their union, least of all that Quay who had styled his hair. Even as he tried to concentrate, to center himself, the overwhelming amount of physical sensation he was experiencing was everything he could have wished for and more.

“Nu! You are crazy—”

Hondo moaned again, Bane having hit his rhythm: rough, slow, and methodical, pounding his prostate while he pumped the pirate’s prick, up and down, jerking him off completely hands-free, despite it feeling like fingers caressing him. This allowed Bane to remove a holdout pistol from the confines of his duster, his LL-30’s residing on the floor, snug in their holsters.

“Ye ain’t seen crazy—fess up!” Bane demanded, Hondo finding the barrel of the tiny blaster placed against his temple, even as Bane drove it home with every stroke.

“Bane, nothing happened! You ridiculous man!” Hondo scowled, pushing his pelvis up into Bane’s. He met him full force, the Duros’ secondary dick mimicking a piston as Ohnaka’s balls flounced beneath him, Cad rutting him into the table though the blaster moved—it now resided inside the Weequay’s mouth.

“Ain’t ridiculous!”

“Wht ar yu ding!” Hondo’s words came out muffled, his eyes wide, though they continued to turn toward the back of his head. He wasn’t sure if he should be scared, or even more turned on, perhaps both, nearly gagging when he shoved the barrel farther inside.

“Tell de truth!” Bane demanded, “and make it quick!”

Hondo decided it would be the latter, not caring one iota that Bane had arched the ridge of his brow, the Weequay sucking on the end of the weapon like it was one of Cad’s pretty pricks. He slathered it in his saliva before he hummed around it, Ohanka gazing up at the Duros who now seemed both confounded and mildly entertained.

Hondo tilted his head back, announcing something akin to “phooey!” before he glowered at the hunter who had him pinned.

“I ded! I am! I—mn,” Hondo felt he was close, too close, ivory and gold gnawing along his bottom lip before he shook his head to clear it, hoping his lucidity would last.

Bane rocked forward, shoving his legs back once more, folding Hondo in half like some cheap sabacc table. He pummeled him with thrust after thrust, still gripping the palm-sized blaster in his hand.

“Dhen—dhen ye’ll teach me how te braid?” Cad’s voice cracked. No longer angry, Hondo felt his heart melt at the very idea he even wanted to learn. Alongside the most endearing thing he could ask for, Hondo knew exactly what it was Bane wanted to hear. Far be it from him not to indulge the lovely creature, so rare was it for Bane to be doted upon. It nearly broke his heart. He was more than just a nefarious, murderous, unscrupulous hired gun. He was a man with feelings—even if he kept them buried deep inside… except when he did not.

“Of course, my heart. My poor boy, my Moon, I adore you; love you; no one else compares tu you, believe me darling—I only wish et tu be you here wit me, at all times. De only Duros en de Galaxy for me,” the pirate promised, his voice taking on notes of honey, his words causing the hunter’s mouth to flex toward a frown—what had he done now?

“De only Duros? What about de other species,” Bane argued.

Hondo would have sighed had he not felt he was about to blow his load, ring-laden fingers reaching up to pet Cad’s cheek, or what he could reach of it, hating those pesky breathing tubes; the black cap that covered half his face.

“De only being alive—no, de only being en existence, dead or among de living—” he corrected, wanting to cover all his bases, knowing Bane all too well, “—dat has my heart, dat feeds my soul, dat—dat—”

Hondo was unable to finish his sentence, his cock beginning to spurt, Bane tossing the pistol behind himself onto the floor. A shot ricocheted somewhere in the background, Bane unwinding his spindly phallus next. Then, he shoved the pirate’s twitching prick backward against his belly with the flat of his hand, the Weequay’s ejaculate directed away from Bane and toward Ohnaka’s chest, staining his otherwise pristine tunic.

“You vile, evil—”

“—Ain’t gettin’ dhat mess on me.”

“Youuuu—”

Bane shoved his tongue into his mouth, thrusting harder, faster than before. Hondo found himself hanging on for dear life, his fingers scratching into the hunter’s boney hips. The Duros hissed a low sound directly into the Weequay’s maw, releasing a gelid jet of cum straight into Ohnaka’s nether regions at the same time the pirate finished. His semen was left to sit on his stomach while his cock was still held firmly in place by Bane, squashed underneath his palm.

“Not on de leather, ah?”

Ohnaka began to laugh, to giggle, Bane sneering down at him, one snaggletooth exposed as he rode out the last of his orgasm. Bane could go again right away; Hondo would need a bit to recuperate should the Duros wish to switch, but it seemed the pirate’s quip annoyed the Duros well enough that he didn’t wish to bother with another round.

“S’expensive,” he defended, finally lifting the hand pressed down on the Quay’s deflating cock, unsheathing himself to leave Hondo feeling impossibly empty, minus the thick, viscid fluid that would soon find its way out.

“A towel, my dear?” Hondo asked. Bane eyed him, as if deciding whether to help. After some thought, he disappeared behind the bar, finding some sort of dishrag that seemed fairly clean.

“Good ‘nough,” Bane smirked, worrying about himself now, tucking things back where they belonged as the pirate sat up to watch.

“I knew you’d cum—come—” Hondo grinned, “you cannot resist me or my siren’s call.”

“More like ye won’t stop commin’ me,” Bane retorted, moving to zip up his fly.

Hondo’s lower lip protruded. “Well, ef you would answer once or twice—maybe … maybe next time du not wait so long,” he said in his most petulant tone.

Bane would be hard-pressed not to feel some sort of guilt, giving Ohnaka a look as he refastened his holsters around his waif-thin waist. “Maybe next time ye don’t threaten te divorce me! Fweh … we ain’t even hitched,” he mumbled.

“Es dat something you…” Hondo hesitated, “dat es tu say…”

“Ah need a drink,” Bane flatly responded, wishing to avoid the topic altogether.

“We could be,” the Weequay offered, trying to sound as casual as possible.

The Duros gave an amused guffaw as he began to walk back toward the bar. “Ye couldn’t afford te keep me,” Bane chided.

Hondo glared daggers from across the room, muttering under his breath. “Du not tell me what I cannot afford, bounty hunter... Youuuu would be surprised…”

“Shot?” Bane asked, holding up a bottle of his favorite poison—Hondo kept it around for his sake.

The pirate gave his most alluring smile, forgetting any ill feelings and forgiving Bane his past transgressions, just as he always had and always would.

“Smoke?” he questioned in return.

“Sure.”

“Eh … Make et a double.”

Then, a thought. Hondo was not done pestering him, determined to get another little something of the Duros while his mood had not yet soured. “Won’t you indulge me next time? Just a little bit?”

“What are ye goin’ on about,” Bane grumbled, retrieving two clean glasses from off a shelf.

“De holocall… ef you ever miss me, perhaps you can show me just how much?”

Bane stared at him, as if Ohnaka had grown an extra head. “What.”

“You don’t ever miss me?” The scoundrel frowned, his shoulders mildly drooping.

Bane sighed. “’Course Ah do.”

Hondo perked right back up, as if he were but a marionette and Bane controlled his strings. “Den might you? For me?” he asked pitifully, gazing at him with soft, gray eyes.

Bane’s forehead scrunched in irritation; the Weequay did not waver except to poke his bottom lip out. “Fine!” he snapped, deciding to take a swig right from the bottle.

The pirate beamed as brightly as a main-sequence star, clapping his hands together so that they might hold each other atop his lap. “Excellent,” he said, “you will not regret et—may even enjoy et!”

Cad rolled his eyes as he poured Hondo a drink, not so stingy as to leave him empty-handed. It was his liquor, after all, wondering what he had just gotten himself into. “Here’s what Ah’d enjoy—ye cahn get dhat girl te clean up our jizz,” Bane snarked; Hondo knew he was serious.

“Of course, my love…”

Hondo would get Gwarm to do it; what better job for his second in command?

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tbangles · 26 days ago

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BEN IS CANONICALLY AN ARTIST???

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tbangles · 26 days ago

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Adam Driver as Kylo Ren / Matt the intern in SNL's Undercover Boss: Star Killer Base, Where Are They Now

My GIF masterlist

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tbangles · 27 days ago

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The Act

the first hug

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tbangles · 27 days ago

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Hello there!

I am here to ease ya'll into my favorite ship:

Banaka (Cad Bane x Hondo Ohnaka)

Best in the Bunch.

I have so much planned for these two in a fanfic I am only just beginning to write (that spans Cad Bane's entire life), but conversations with @allsystemsblue led me to write this fluff scenario and I could not stop myself.

Pretend that what you are reading is based on an already well-established relationship. Bane shows affection by acts of service and gift giving, as his feelings are something he has trouble with expressing. The rest is self-indulgent garbage.

I should mention this is not how the rest of said fic will go. This is a one-off just for fun. You can expect angst, drama, hurt, comfort, toxic relationships, violence and smut in the future.

Credit goes to Teeth for the idea that Hondo, while not believing in the God Quay, still finds comfort in performing magicks for his own peace of mind.

Word count: 1.4k+

Warnings: None. Fluff, a kiss, and a lot of negativity on Bane's part.

He didn’t know a thing about them, flowers, only that they might come in useful for a certain predicament he had found himself in, as it seemed most sentient beings thought the seed-bearing parts of plants—consisting of its reproductive organs, mind you—were somehow beautiful.

He supposed he could see it, what with their bright-colored corollas, petals coming in all shapes and sizes, typically paired with a calyx as green as his own blood. That was only on some planets. On others, they were red, or blue. Purple. Indigo.

On Florrum, they came in various shades of orange, or yellow, a rarity after an even rarer desert downpour.

Fragile is what they were, and a waste of money. The resources used to farm them could be utilized in more efficient ways. Perhaps he would like the wild ones better, though to pull weeds as a manner of apology didn’t seem good enough. Didn’t seem thoughtful enough. He was sure the Weequay would run him out.

Then again, apologizing wasn’t something he often did, as Bane rarely meant not to do something he had set his mind to. Only this time, he had hurt Ohnaka’s feelings.

Feelings. Hondo had too many, and maybe Bane had too few. Callous one might call him, insensitive another. Cynical was more like it; tired; disillusioned. Yet rare was the man who could crack him open to show him what lay beneath; like a geode, Ohnaka exposed his insides, revealing to Bane all the pretty bits he never would have known existed.

And Bane did care, if only when it suited him. If only on his terms. But this time, he cared because Hondo did. It was partially anathema, this caring, yet he did it anyway, unable to coax his mind to let their little squabble go.

To the pirate, it had been more than that, Bane insulting his very heritage. He didn’t understand the tiny dolls he kept, the archaic sources of illumination that were made of wax and smelled like things Bane could not identify, nor the bits and scraps of flimsi that had been burned to cinders.

These things decorated a small table, resting atop an ornate cloth; Bane had touched it much to the pirate’s chagrin, then disrespected his arcane practice, ridiculing his efforts to appease some nonexistent deity in order to bring about Bane’s good luck.

His job was dangerous, but the hunter was unaware he was being prayed for behind closed doors. Somehow, that had irritated him, more so as he didn’t understand it, thinking Hondo must be attempting to commit himself to witchcraft like those little ladies that lived on Dathomir.

“What’s with dhis nonsense. Ain’t no use in doin’ dhat,” he remembered saying; a poor choice of words to one who meant no ill will.

He understood that now, if nothing else. So what if Hondo lit a candle for him. Who was he to say he hadn’t lived to hunt another day because of it? It was possible the only thing keeping Bane alive besides his street smarts and good aim was the Weequay’s magicks; Bane shuddered to think that was the case.

Even so, here he was, holding a bouquet tightly in one hand and his hat’s brim in the other, deigning to do what he felt might be ignored. This was nothing more than a gesture to barter passage into the pirate king’s good graces—an act of service on his part, the buying of them—for in the here and now, there was nothing more he wished to accomplish in this life. Had you told him he would be doing this a year ago, he would have laughed himself hoarse, or worse yet, right into an early grave.

Yes, flowers. Expensive, frail, and pointless. He had chosen the prettiest of those assembled according to his tastes, selecting a color he assumed was the dummy’s favorite: red.

Ladalums were scarce and imported from Alderaan, a fact he’d learned upon their purchase. They would only bloom if pollinated on their homeworld; these were fresh off the cargo freight, able to last months if given the right treatment.

That was one good thing about them—once out of his hands, the rest was up to the pirate to take care of. He was good at that, Bane mused—caring for things.

Eyes and heads—not dissimilar from all the others that populated this chamber of sorts—turned to look at this bounty hunter who relunctantly proceeded with his walk of shame. Bane would bite back all his nasty words, even as members of Hondo's gang jeered and snickered at his expense.

What he wouldn’t give to kill them on the spot. Somehow, he imagined, that would not do him any favors.

Seated on a low dais, in a throne fit for a king no less, his disgruntled paramour still fumed, swoop-goggles purposefully removed to rest upon the front of his worn helmet. Those expressive gray eyes were the Duros’ weakness, finding that he could not meet his narrowed gaze. Already oblique, Hondo’s stormy depths had gathered further into slits, leaving Bane to swallow down his spit.

Still, he approached, feeling naked and vulnerable as he stood there like a scolded child without his hat to shield him. He did his best, fathomless red ellipses meeting Hondo’s glare head-on, Bane saying the only thing he could think to say.

“Brought some flowers.”

Nothin'. There was no reaction, not even a change in his demeanor or a brightening of mood. Bane overtly frowned, taking a step back for his boots to echo lightly against the duracrete floor of Hondo’s beloved fortress home.

Supposin’ this didn’t work, Bane planned for his retreat, hoping to retain some dignity among those present. He lowered his head, his hat rightfully returned to where it belonged by a flat palm, Bane ready to drop the bouquet like so much trash at his feet; it was difficult to care when you didn’t know how to fix the wrong you’d done. Trying wasn’t as good as doing. Doing was the hard part.

“Are dose for me?”

Four little words that set Bane’s heart to thumping, the hunter wisely keeping his eyes averted as he saw the pirate stand out of his periphery. He would only nod, an infinitesimal movement of his head, up and down, affirming what Hondo already knew—those flowers were for him.

His spark descended, that charming scoundrel who kept him going on a dark night of the soul; he strode down the short flight of stairs that would bring him nearly to his level, Bane taller than Ohnaka, though the man was bigger in some ways; his heart for one, Bane thought.

“Dey are beautiful, my Moon,” his bit of sunshine said, Bane’s sorrowful eyes rising out from the shade of his bolero.

“Picked de best in de bunch,” he humbly offered, words bordering a whisper, eerily heard as the hall was quiet, grim faces and furrowed brows sparing him none of his embarrassment. "Same could be said, fer ye,” he added.

It was then the Weequay smiled, a dazzling thing, brighter than dual suns. Bane relaxed openly as he expelled a breath from between his teeth; it was a slow, heavy sigh of relief.

“Flatterer,” Hondo teased, his smile spreading wider, gold amidst pearl and oh-so satisfying to witness should Bane be the sole cause of it. “Dey need water, hm?”

The shuffling of a crimson coat and an idle toss of a braid signaled to Bane that Hondo would exit, the hunter grateful his gift had been accepted. However, the Weequay would pause, turning about face, reflecting on the shrinking Duros as he had been tempted to follow in his footsteps.

“Just… one more ting,” he announced, his expression hardening back to a look previously sported as his voice lowered an octave, Bane’s heart sinking toward his belly as he did not wish to incur any more reprimands.

Hondo took him by his coat’s lapel, jerking him forward. Bane held onto his hat as dusky lips brushed across his, pinpricks of electricity teeming along his scales like minuscule lightning bolts. The Duros would slump his shoulders to sink to Ohnaka’s height, a warm, black tongue invading his mouth to skirt one that was cool and pink.

This must be what it felt like to be forgiven, he assumed, some invisible weight lifting from off his conscience.

“Take it ye like flowers,” Bane remarked once free of his kiss, wanting to fill the now awkward silence with something to lighten whatever tension might be left between them.

For Hondo, there was none. He could just as easily forget as he could forgive. A rough thumb smoothed down the bit of Bane’s flesh left assailable, brazenly descending to aid in the tweaking of one sharp fang.

“Yes,” Hondo harmoniously agreed, “you might say dat.”

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tbangles · 27 days ago

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Re: Bane's trust issues

My thoughts immediately went to Banaka. Would Bane be terrified once realizing he cares a little too much for the Weequay? How much would it take to make him fall for someone? I am curious how Hondo would work his magic to make Bane open up even by a smidge.

Similarly, I have a hc that if Hondo ever were to truly love someone, he would be quite wary of it. Doesn't help that he had been burned once before by Aurra.

Anyway I just find the idea of two people that, despite struggling with love and vulnerability, still believe that that love is worth pursuing, to be very sweet.

Note: SPOILERS AHEAD FOR MY FIC SERIES.

Also, this became almost a 2,000-word essay. SO SORRY.

---

(here, have a stupid thing I made. xD)

Aww, yes! @allsystemsblue and I were just talking about something in relation to this the other day. It could go one of two ways, as in my fic I am planning for them to meet earlier on in life before they are separated for quite a long time and do not see each other again for years, so there is that element of familiarity in my story that sort of helps Bane get past that mistrust, though I have also entertained the idea of them meeting for the first time in adulthood.

As young adults, I do not think Bane is as jaded as he will be later on, given that yes, he has experienced betrayal, but he still holds out hope. Hondo may actually be the more jaded one at this point based on my ideas for his story, what with the person he loves and trusts most selling him, and his experiences as a slave. Don’t get me wrong, Bane also experiences his fair share of issues, but I think he longs to be loved in some respects, whereas Hondo has experienced love already and been burned by it—yes, I am talking about his mother.

Even so, Hondo still holds her in high esteem. I think with a young Bane, Bane isn’t even called “Bane,” yet, and as Hondo will be working for Porla he gives a fake name, and Bane gives his “real one.” Of course, he doesn’t mean to lie—he thinks he will tell him the truth one day, as they get to know each other, but the opportunity for that never arises before it’s too late.

Maybe Hondo thinks it’ll just be a fun little romp in the sack at first, though he is enamored with the Duros. He realizes as time goes on (a few weeks of this, perhaps, or a month or two until he plans his “escape from slavery” and has to leave Boonta behind for good) that he actually enjoys his company, that he’s fun to be around, that they get along well, and even that he loves him.

I think that Bane would feel the same, at least at this point, though confused by it, cautious though he does not wish to be. I have no doubt that he *can* let go more as a young man, and gives him his heart, slowly but surely. Unfortunately, Hondo is unable to tell him his plans. I had it worked out to where Porla and the person Bane is working for at the time are rivals. Bane knows nothing of this, even though Hondo does.

In being left so abruptly, without word, Bane is heartbroken. This is where the work comes in for the future and how to gain back his trust. Hondo never wished to hurt him, he only wished to be free of Porla. He tried to look for him, find him again, but as he becomes a bounty hunter he changes his name to “Cad Bane,” and “Lumoon Troks” is nowhere to be found. The fact Bane doesn’t know Hondo is Hondo Ohnaka also comes into play, sometime around the point Jango Fett is his mentor, and they go to Florrum for a visit.

Even though he becomes enthralled with “Lumoon,” Hondo *is* wary, long before Aurra. I believe he realizes just how far he could go, to the point of obsession, which teeth said he forces himself to hold back, checks himself, and that is why he appears so aloof when it comes to relationships. His main line of thinking is, “you cannot hurt me if I hurt you first,” or “can’t hurt me if I don’t hold you close.” It is safe to say his view of love is twisted thanks to his previous experience, therefore Hondo takes on many lovers, but never actually loves any of them.

I like to relate this to the fact he speaks ill of honor, that there is none left in the galaxy. How can he love someone he cannot trust? Even so, he may do surface level things, like “love-bombing” them, giving them extravagant gifts, arranging for fancy meals or drinks, parties, things that do not require him to give any part of himself, but inanimate objects, trinkets, jewelry, flowers. You get it.

I think for Bane to meet him again, he would not be happy. Hondo would have his work cut out for him, especially if he is already with Aurra or has a menagerie of lovers on the side because he had long since given up on ever finding him. Hondo is, to me, a very lonely man with all this love to potentially give someone, but no one to truly give it to, so he gives it to many, though never expects it to stick, and will even keep people at arm’s length for fear of having a repeat of what he felt so long ago—heartbreak, complete and utter devastation at the hands of his dear old mum.

Maybe Bane, or “Lumoon,” was the first person he had felt a connection to in such a long time that it threw him off guard. It made him feel alive for the first time in years, this time they spent together, and it was regrettable that he lost out on it, and him. “The one who got away.”

I think to win Bane’s favor, in this case, Hondo would have to do something extravagant, something selfless, like saving his life, protecting his honor, showing a true display of emotion without regard or reserve for who is present, or having an outward, noticeable change in his demeanor that cannot be deemed as acting or fake. He would also have to leave Aurra and push away anyone else he may have around at the time, which for him would be easy.

Also, I have to say this is sort of a two-way street, as Bane has been with Jango for a few years now, first as his student, but also as his lover. I think there are some complicated feelings going on there, but Fett does not treat Bane as one should treat someone they care about. I think it’s more one-sided, and Hondo sees this, hates the way Bane is treated, and wants to do better by him, or comforts him at times—at least when he can get close enough to do so after Bane’s initial anger has somewhat subsided, and they continue to be forced to work together on a professional level.

On the other hand, Bane would see how he treats others, compares it to how he is treated, and would know this is just how “Hondo is,” with the flattery and flirting, the overabundant gifts, the show of making another feel important and the like, therefore it would not work on him. He would just assume he is not special, he treats everyone the same, even if that may be a form of love-language for Hondo. The only one he knows for the longest time.

To win Bane over, they have to confront their past. He would tell him the truth, why he left, that he was a slave, that he didn’t wish to hurt Bane, and that he had looked for him for years until he could no longer and gave up. I am sure Bane thinks he is “lying,” or says as much, even if he wants to believe him.

Teeth and I think they bond over smokes, drinks, conversations, and Bane might slowly start to come around. It is only when something drastic happens that things turn themselves completely around that he truly opens back up. Like I mentioned, something like saving Bane’s life, protecting him, defending his honor, or begging him with tears in his eyes, drunk as a skunk, confessing his love that Bane may truly realize he means what he says.

If they had NOT known each other as young people, some of his mistrust is dispelled the same way, but as we know Hondo is multifaceted and has more than one side. I think Bane thinks at first he is a buffoon, loud, obnoxious, annoying, and possibly even stupid—that is until he sees he is anything but. His hatred or distaste for the guy slowly melts away, bit by bit, and would be due to things again like sharing smokes, drinks, stories, the friendly way Hondo greets him every time they see each other, the fact he does little things for Bane, or remembers things he says that no one else does, like what his favorite brand of Whiskey is, or that he always wished he could locate “this or that thing,” and that lo and behold one day Hondo brings it to him.

He pays attention to Bane when no one else does, certainly not Jango, and it slowly wins the Duros over. But also, seeing that side of him that is not so boisterous, so loud, he realizes that it’s an act, that the real Hondo is an intelligent, thoughtful man, that he has deep feelings, that he holds sadness in his heart, and that they have a lot in common when you get right down to it.

I am sure as time goes on, Bane and Hondo both have fallen for one another, though it remains unspoken for the longest time. A sort of mutual, secretive pining. I do not think Jango would take kindly to Hondo showing any sort of true affection toward Bane. For one, he assumes he is a trickster and bad for the boy to be around, and two, I see him as thinking Bane is “his,” though it is sort of left unsaid out loud. His for Fett to use as he sees fit, more so, and he doesn’t like to share.

Jango also has a history with Hondo, albeit a different kind of history. He thinks he knows the man, when maybe he does to a degree, but that flirty, clownish, flamboyant persona is what dominates his thoughts when it comes to Hondo, and he assumes if Hondo is taken with Bane that he will ultimately fuck and use him like he does so many others.

This could not be further from the truth in this case.

I think what pushes their relationship to the next level is something Jango does, or that they all participate in. Something that leaves Bane vulnerable and shows just how dismissive Jango is of the boy’s needs or feelings. Hondo would move to comfort him, and the rest is history so to speak, though I am sure for the longest time they keep their relationship a secret for fear of what Fett might do, and god knows people like Bossk or Dengar would never let them live it down.

The only reason down the road they part ways again for years is because of something Bane does out of fear or panic. Hondo’s reaction to it is poor, unfortunately, at the time. This time Bane is at fault, thinking Hondo might hate him, and for very specific reasons, though Ohnaka could never hate Bane. Their love, to him, was written in the stars.

*These things happen before and alongside the Clone Wars. Bane does feel Hondo betrays him in the end, but understands his reasons for it seeing as how it was his fault this time. Combined together with Rako, Boba shooting him, his previous betrayal regarding his boss and many other work associates, Jango hiding secrets, the loss of favor with his housemother at the orphanage, etc, he truly becomes jaded and depressed, and you can be SURE they fight over Obi-wan. While Bane hates him, Hondo thinks they are friends, and that does not bode well.

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