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Star Wars:  Revelations Hunter x Foxen

TCW Fanfic Hunter x Foxen

This is the first sexual encounter between these two characters in a series I am writing based on the aftermath of TCW.  Please enjoy, I had to get this out of my system!

WARNINGS: SMUT 100% rated MA from start to finish, squirting, cum eating, rough sex, mentions of blood, oral 69ing, protected sex.  

Norsik Language:

Ojciec - Father in Polish (Title of a male leader)

Glumačka Sjena - Shadow Cast in Croatian (1 of Norsik’s 3 moons, her favorite moon.)

Охотник -Hunter in Russian

Bjorn – Bear in Finnish

Mando’a Language:

Mesh’la - Beautiful in Mando’a

Cyar’ika - Sweetheart in Mando’a

3.7k words sorry not sorry.

The crew undergoes a terrifying life or death situation.  This only brings Hunter and Foxen to the realization that they can no longer deny their attraction/feelings towards each other.  To hold off on expressing their desires could be too late one day.  Hunter ends up at Foxen’s door the night they return to Norsik.  She answers the door somewhat groggy, only wearing a gray t-shirt and a thong.  Seeing Hunter, she straightens up, he drinks up her appearance with his eyes, they darken as he steps forward to enter her dwelling.  Her eyes open wide as he grabs a fist of her shirt to bring her flush against his solid frame.  The door closes behind them and the room becomes dark, only lit by the light of the moons and lit candles to cover the scent of weed.  He kisses her deeply, wrapping his arms around her waist feeling down to her ass with one hand while the other trailed up her back to grasp the back of her head to press harder into her mouth.  She lets out a soft moan into his mouth and they parted to breathe, a bridge of saliva still connecting their lips.  Her yellow eyes sparkled in the light of the stars with a fiery glow he’s only seen after the heat of battle.  She wraps her arms around his neck bringing him close again and she kisses him roughly, shoving her tongue into his mouth.  He responds in turn and their tongues dance in a frenzy.  She tasted of a fruity bud; her mouth was far from dry. They drifted to the couch, Hunter breaks away and pushes her down, looking down at her as she backs up to the corner with her legs closed, he stares down at her intimidatingly, eyes of a predator ready to make his kill. He took his shirt off, reached for a wrapped condom package in his pocket and tore the corner to have it ready to grab when the time came and set it on the table beside him. He worked at his belt dropping his pants leaving his underwear on and crawled down between her legs to begin kissing her again.  His large rough hands explore her body, feeling her thighs, her waist up to her breasts, pinching her nipples earning a gratuitous wince from Foxen.  This woman was kept in a gladiator cage on Zygeria, for her to moan at a physical touch like this excited him further.  How feminine she was curling around under him, moaning into his mouth and gazing at him with heavy lust filled eyes.  

She felt up his chest, memorizing every scar, tracing his deep muscle grooves, and kissing his neck as he buried his face in her hair inhaling her heavy scent, burning it into his nostrils.  She pulled his hair and he let out an erotic groan with a sharp grin, she craned her neck up to leave love bites on the large column of his neck, licking his Adam’s apple and kissing his jaw until their lips met again.  His cock throbbed at the action between them, and he began to press himself against her drenched apex.  His tongue so eager to climb back into her mouth he let his weight push her back against the couch.  She instinctively wrapped her legs around him and he broke the kiss and let out a deep chuckle, she could feel the sheer strength of his voice from around her legs, and she felt a bead of her slick drip out of her making her shiver with pleasure as Hunter pulled back from her and placed his hands along her thighs.  Looking down at her with pleading desire.  His hands feel along her soft and scarred flesh until he reaches the band to her thong, hooking a thumb under one side, waiting for a sign of approval.

“What a gentleman.”  She spoke with a sly smile followed by a nod.

“Only out of respect, Captain.”  He said in a low tone and with his free hand he wiped down the front of his body to lick up some of her love juice and let out a growl at the taste and scent of her slick.  His cock was fully erect pulling the fabric outward and opening the waistband to reveal the base of his shaft and curls of his hair.  

“I don’t want respect Hunter.  I want to be fucked...!”  She said lunging forward and mounting him.  Pinning him down to the couch she takes off her shirt and throws it to the side and her hands scratch up his torso and gripping his neck as she bent forward to take a harsh kiss from him.  His cock is throbbing, Foxen can feel the heat between their loins growing, an ache that they both share quickly taking over in a primal display of affection.  Hunter let out a moan and his hands began to explore the body of the warrior atop him.  His hands reach down under her hips and rips off her panties and brings the threading to his face to lick all her discharge and inhale her lewd scent again.  

“Kriff give me the real thing.”  His voice a gruff order and she obeyed and turned around over him so she could stuff her mouth with his raging dick.  She slid his underwear down to his knees and he aided with his feet to kick them off entirely to be completely naked with her.  She gazed in awe at his thick mass, the veins raging out with a bead of precum forming at the tip.  Still in awe his hot breath blew across her neatly tucked folds, he took in the sight of her bare pussy, so soft and tender, and a complete sopping mess.  He buries his tongue in her hole to taste the inside of her. He gave a firm slap on the side of her ass and she jumped at the action, his tongue licked up and down to taste all of her precious skin below.  He kisses all around and then begins to go to work at her clit.  Foxen could only manage to grip his cock as he worked on her, completely lost in the riveting sensations that he brought upon her. She has never had a man gone down on her, not even her ex-husband Kalem.  

She let out moans and whines and breathy pleas for more and more, even telling him where to lick, realizing herself what she likes.  She spits on his cock, his arms tense around her thighs locking her in place on his face.  She licks at the tip to taste his cum, and then licks around the head and shaft to make it easier to fit his cock in her mouth.  Never had she seen such a mass as defined as his, Hunter’s body is extremely lean, very low percentage of body fat, just muscle, prominent veins in his arms and legs, and a gruff growl of a voice that always manages to send shivers up her spine even in the deep focus of tasks.  Always yearning to feel his eyes on her, always wanting to make a pass near him to get a graze of his body against hers, and after hearing him command orders to her to ensure survival of the group damn near sent her over the edge into...love.   Foxen forces his cock in her mouth, she sucked the tip, running her tongue over his frenulum of his uncut member.  The sensations of her tongue running over the sensitive skin sent a fire ablaze in Hunter’s stomach.  Needing more from her his hips bucked, wanting more of himself inside her in some way or another.  Foxen caught on to his needs and began to take him deeper in her mouth, it’s just his cock is so girthy, it’s hard to get much of him without feeling her own teeth scrape along his skin, not wanting to hurt him or cause discomfort she then works on sucking the amount of cock that she can fit in her mouth comfortably.  Gagging and sucking on it, leaving trails of spit to run down his cock.  He lets out moans of pleasure from her efforts, he then rewards her with a finger, and she moans on his cock in return.  Her slick is definitely enough to signal that she could take him, but now he wants to stretch her out a bit for good measure. He adds a second finger.  

“Hunter...! Oh moons!  Glumačka Sjena! Aaahhh!!” She grabs his thighs, her nails cutting into his skin, he smiles at the pleasure of the pain as she squirts all over his face from the way he touches her insides. He opens his mouth to catch the love juices flowing from her body. In shock she hops off him, embarrassed thinking that she had just urinated on him. He lets out a deep chuckle as he swallows her juices and clutches her mouth in his hand making her look at him as she gasps for air, recovering from a never before felt level of an orgasm. His hair is drenched more so on the left side than the right, his red bandana is also soaked. With his free hand he takes it off and drops it to the floor and speaks.  

”Get back here and fuck me.” His voice like gravel over her panting, he grabs the condom and begins to roll it onto his cock. She crawls up onto him, kissing, wanting to know the taste of what she let loose all over him, clearly unphased by what had happened.  Perhaps it was what he was looking for. He guides her onto his lap, his cock nudging at her gaping entrance ready to swallow him.

“I’m so glad you’re a squirter....not many women are....makes things easier....and funner...”. He says between breathy kisses as she teases his head.

“That’s squirting? I thought...it would feel different from pissing...”. She said embarrassed as he smiled.

“It’s all comin’ from the same place mesh’la. Sorry about the couch, if I knew....”

“Fuck the couch Hunter, I want you to do more of that to me.” She said aggressively and mounted him more seriously and began to push down onto his dick to start taking him. His features softened at the sensations of her tight walls beginning to envelope him. She let out a cry as she got half of him in,

” It’s so thick...it’s so big...I can’t...”. She let out in frustration.

“It’s okay cyar’ika you don’t need to take it all in one go...just take what you... can and you’ll get.... m-mo-ore!” Mid-sentence she flashed a devilish grin and pulled back a touch up on his cock and then slammed down taking him in one fell swoop catching him off guard. His hands went limp and fell to his sides, eyes a blank stare, she can almost see his brain go haywire from the unexpected and quick flood of sensations. Her pussy is so warm and taut, sucking him in, her nails dig into his back as she takes in his full mass. She reaches down to feel her stomach, almost trying to feel where his tip is protruding out into her insides. Cursing herself in her mind how the Zygerians made this feeling not so much painful...but secretly longed for once more, that Hunter’s cock can now provide even more so than those Zygs.

The sting of her nails brings Hunter back to the moment, feeling her tight warmth coiling around his cock, his hands return to her sides to help guide her hips up and down. She buries her face in his neck, biting and sucking on whatever flesh she can get her mouth on, not caring if she’s leaving marks and hickies on his skin. She pulls back to take in the sight of his now relaxed and softened face, totally enamored with her body, eyes welling with tears from the pleasure and pain she is providing to him. She begins to feel his whole-body relaxing, his shoulders are loosening up, tension and stress floods out of him as he looks into her fiery passionate eyes. He reaches up to cup her left breast, wanting to feel her heartbeat in his hand. She bounces up and down in a steady rhythm, feeling his warm cock slide in and out of herself, the ridges provided by his thick veins would rivet against her opening in the best ways when she would go at a slower pace. Hunter is speechless, near silence, any vocals he attempts to let out are getting caught in his throat.  Seeking a peep from him, Foxen pulled the back of his hair to the left side and forced her tongue in his ear.  Never before has Hunter experienced this action in a sexual way, just wet willies from his brothers in their cadet years, his toes curl at this newfound sexual sensation.  Foxen can feel his already hardened cock become even harder, signaling for a soon release, but Hunter isn’t that easily finished.  He lets out a soft gasp at the action and his hands wrap around her torso to hold her in place on his lap.  Foxen is overwhelming him in the best balance that he has ever managed to receive from a woman, and he didn’t even have to ask or inform her of the small bursts of pain he would need to keep in the zone to perform. Foxen likes it rough like he does, and she has no problem taking charge and getting what she needs from him, which he is so enthralled by. But now it’s his turn to return the favor, to remind this woman that he is a man after all and that he is the man who can please her, to show her who’s the real Ojciec for the Scourge Crew. Hunter’s commanding face returns and he slaps her ass cheeks and gathers her up in his arms and stands up. Forcing himself inside her deeply he leans forward which has her lean back and he began to thrust inside her, making all of her weight come back down against him. He could only manage to do this for a few thrusts. Foxen is a beautiful beast of a woman, muscular much like him, and standing at 5’11 and he 6’1, she is a lot to carry. She wrapped her arms around his neck to stay on him, her legs naturally wrapped around his waist to keep the couple together as he stopped to carry her back to her bedroom. He managed to keep them connected until he kicked the door open and threw her onto the bed. He climbed on top of her forcing her legs together and up over one shoulder. He leaned down and kissed her roughly and pushed himself inside her once more and resumed at a punishing pace. The hardboard began to hit against the wall in the same manner Foxen felt him pound against a spot inside her no man had ever reached before. With each thrust she could feel the air leave her lungs as he filled her entire space. She cried out his name, her hands digging into his shoulders to push him back a bit, but he pressed on. He let out feral grunts and moans as he fucked into her, needing more and more of her body around him. Their foreheads pressed together, staring into each other’s eyes unafraid of this new level of intimacy between them. A hand slid down his chest with scratch marks that began to draw blood which only excited him further. Her eyes widened at the sensations and she threw her head back screaming his name and pleaded for him to slow down. Feeling her stress begin to climb he slowed to a softer pace, and he pushed her legs to the mattress so she was on her side. He spanked her ass a few times which made her pussy tighten around him each time; he reveled in that feeling.

“Hunter I’m cumming again...!” She squeaked out between spanks.

“I can feel you...tightening...”. He let out and pulled back a bit to spread her legs open across him and began to take her missionary style. Watching her breasts bounce in time of his thrusts excited him. He felt them in his hands, the warmth of their bodies grew and grew. He kisses her deeply and pulls up so he can look down at her battle scarred and tattooed body. Seeing his darker skin be swallowed up by her fair-skinned body was so visually pleasing. The erotic squelching noises their connections made as he thrusted filled the room. To himself he thinks how much more beautiful it will be to see the delicate pink skin of her pussy take his tan skinned cock in the daylight. He traces circles on her clit very gently which sends sparks through her, he can feel her excitement surge through her body. She reaches up to grab the back of his neck roughly with some of his hair and kisses him, biting his bottom lip. Her eyes begin to swell with tears of pleasure and a devilish grin comes across her face as she begins to cum on his cock. Her insides clench and squirm, sucking him in and forcing him out at the same time. His cock is far too big and stubborn to be forced out without his permission. He stills himself, remaining inside, letting her work through an intense internal orgasm that he can tell she has never experienced before, and wants to watch this wash over her with a clear view, to see her writhe under him. Her body became hot, then sweaty and clammy. She’s seeing stars, and fading to white as the heat within her swells and crashes. Her legs are shaking and she’s sucking in air with shallow breaths. Her eyes break with tears.

“ Охотник...”, she lets out softly. He lowers his body so they may rest on their sides still connected. He can’t bring himself to separate from her just yet, and this feeling alone is bringing him closer to orgasm. He hooks his arms under her shoulders and begins to softly thrust in her, slowly bringing her attention back to his movements. Her body begins to spasm once more around him, a third release already on its way to back up the second, which was all he needed to begin his release. Wanting him to give her a bit more time to settle Foxen pulls his hair from the back. He exposed his neck to her unfazed by this action and she began to kiss the column of his neck, releasing his hair realizing he is about to cum as he lets out a deep moan from his chest. His breathing becomes heavy, and his intensity increases as he brings himself closer to kiss her. Hugging her to his chest tightly and letting out a groan that he’s been unable to get out for some time, his cock pulses but she feels no splash within her. The feeling of his pulsing and muffled cries of pleasure in her hair brought her to a softer release than before, but still tingling with the small movements made by him. Hunter had rolled that condom on which serves as a protective barrier to keep his sensations from overwhelming him and a strict discipline to always wear a rubber to protect himself and his partner.  Which he instilled in his Bad Batch brothers and an adopted practice by his newfound Scourge brothers, respecting the Kaminoins’ ideals of Jengo Fett’s DNA overriding the human gene pool across the galaxy. Foxen giggled into a pleasured moan as Hunter pulled out of her. Feeling relaxed she kisses him softly, but she can tell that he’s still coming down from an intense encounter. She pulls away from him to give his senses a hiatus. She sees how his hand is holding his member as he lays there breathing deeply to keep from hyperventilating. Foxen takes it upon herself to take the condom off of him; it was still tight along his cock and when she removed it he was continuously releasing sperm, shooting some onto her hands. He shirked away for a second at the sensation of release from the rubber, finally relaxing. She held the used condom up to see how much he had filled it; it’s a healthy amount, easily enough to make a baby. He stretches back against the pillows, completely wiped out, and yet longing to feel her skin against his again. She placed the condom in a bin at the bedside and tasted his cum on her fingers. He watched as she played with his sperm in her mouth, tasting his product as he did with her squirt. She cleaned her fingers and swallowed loudly, not that she needed to in order for him to hear it anyways. She flashes a grin, and he reaches an arm out to her as a signal to cuddle. She obliges and they curl up together on the comforter, the air is warm and smells like sex, enjoying the now gentle skin to skin contact.  Foxen admires his body in the same fashion taking in his sweat and musk.

“Hunter?” Foxen asks first to break the restful silence.

“Hm?” He answers and looks down at her, his hands getting tangled in her hair and glancing over the rest of her body in the moonlight.

“Is this going to be a regular thing?” She asked and looked down at his chest in slight embarrassment but wanting an answer so she can start to organize her feelings. Compartmentalizing is a key survival trait that begins with near-paranoid discipline after all.

“I would like it to be, Foxen. But that’s up to you, Captain.”

“Why leave it to me? You’re the man.” She noted.

“I want to hear you call me ‘your man’ then.” He said gruffly, his arm around her backside flexed possessively, locking her in place on him, with a heated look in his eyes like that of a dominant bjorn over a female. Her core began to heat up from his primal gaze, the effect he has on her does not go unnoticed by this male.  

“I want you as my man,” she said and drug a hand up his chest and rubbed the area of his shoulder to his neck in a soothing manner.

“Then you’re my girl.”

Star Wars: Revelations Tech x Natelyte

Now Revised

This is the first sexual encounter between these two characters in a series I am writing based on the aftermath of TCW.

I revised this encounter because after re-reading it a few weeks later it did not capture the vision that I have for the start of their romantic relationship.  

WARNINGS: Rated MA +18, Explicit, NSFW, P in V sex, protected sex, during office hours, Auralism (sound kink), recorded encounter, feelings.  

5K Words.

Norslyr Translations

Sonval: Sun drop in Afrikaans

Sonskyn:  Sunshine in Afrikaans

Lokacinka: your turn – Hausa

taa ya nyota: starlight – Swahili

Zub da hasken rana a cikina: Pour your sun flares into me - Hausa

Haskaka ni da farin dodo: Spark me with a white dwarf (baby) – Hausa

Gee nog een uitbarsting my sonskyn:  Give one more eruption my sunshine – Afrikaans

Star Wars: Revelations: Tech x Natelyte

Tech turns on his helmet audio function to listen to Natelyte’s special recording.  The audio is Natelyte masturbating, moaning, and whining his name as she uses a high-powered vibrator on herself.  

“Tech...!”  She whimpers.  His eyes widen at the sound of her voice calling his name.  This recording was unexpected, it appeared in his room upon the Solar Scourge before leaving to complete a job.  Tech knew well enough to listen to the audio in private in case it was something meant just for him.  Nat’s voice breaks again as she nears release.  

Tech checks over his shoulder to confirm the door is locked and proceeds to remove his cod piece.  He takes it a step further and removes all his armor except his helmet, he lays out on his bed. He pulls up innocent images of Natelyte on his screen to look at as he strokes himself.  Tech isn’t one to take this kind of time to himself while on a job; but the crew are already on their way to return to Norsik.  He isn’t going to be needed anytime soon.  Tech let’s out a groan at the lack of fluid friction he could do to himself alone.  He grabs a sock from his bed side and slicks his cock with lube and proceeds to jerk himself with the sock around it.  The vibrator takes on more of the volume in the background of Nat’s whimpering.  Tech begins to visualize how she does it to herself, just from this audio clip alone he can deduce that Natelyte is more about clitoral stimulation than penetration.  

“Make you...cum on my piece...”.   He goes on babbling about all the dirty things he wants to do to Nat.  

“Nat...!”  He yelps at the violent ejaculation that glazes the inside of the sock.  Feeling himself need more of her to get his nerves right he continues listening to Nat.  Her voice breaking in high pitches that he has never heard her voice achieve before, at least not around him.  

“Tech.!  Oh, I miss you already.”  She coos, he can envision the devious smile on her lips.  Then she orgasms whining his name.  He sits up tossing the sock to the floor.  

“She’s so enthralling”. He sighs still thinking about Natelyte.  All the things he wants to do with her...and too her.  Thinking of the moans and whines she let out while calling his name, the actions she took to make this for him.  It all started so innocently, she is making it clear that she’s not teasing anymore, she wants Tech.  

Both of these geniuses make a schedule nearly every morning to let the others know when and where they will be throughout the day so if and when anyone needs their help, they can always find them based on the schedule.  When they put it together that they both do this type of time management technique they began to plan their days to intersect every now and then just to get some time to work together, take breaks that overlap with one another’s time. Then one day, Tech cleared his schedule and he sent just ‘Natelyte’ for the whole day, to not only her but to everyone in the crew.  When she saw this, she too just wiped the day away and plastered Tech’s name across the planner and they went out together for the day doing fun things instead of work.  Then this job came up a few weeks later and he had to go with the Scourgemen, she slipped this audio recording in his room before they departed.  Now he isn’t going to hold back what he wants to do with her.  Natelyte is a beautiful and intelligent woman, a rebellious danger, something he admires most about her.  The ship came out of hyperspace, Tech redresses and went out to the bridge.  The crew is eager to get back to the surface to see their perspective counter parts.  None of the women came along for this delivery job, it wasn’t out of disinterest, they just have much more pressing matters that require their presence to maintain at present.  Hunter walks out onto the bridge to oversee the dissent to the surface being performed by Wolffe.  He looks Tech up and down with a sly grin and a raised eyebrow, knowing full well that Tech is a horny little bastard right now.  Tech shrugs the look off, at least he is getting something from his girl.  

The crew land at the platform and Tech was off the ship and dashing towards Natelyte’s office building.  Assuming she would be walking from that direction, he turns a corner and there she is.  Her face brightens with a smile to see him alive and in one piece.  They briskly walk towards each other and embraced.  Their armors clad against each other couldn’t stop the feeling of the other’s warmth.  

“I listened to your message.”  He says with a soft smile.  

“Oh ja?  Did you enjoy it my sonval?”  She asks and leans into him with her breast plate more against his chest plate.  His hands move further down her back to hold her more closely.  

“I loved it so much that I want to participate with you my sonskyn.”  He rasps lowly in her ear and nibbles at her lobe, wasting no time as always.  Nat breaks away from him still grasping his hand to walk to her office together.  They continue to converse about the job he returned from and high lights of events happening on Norsik.  

Her office is open and organized, Nat closes the door behind her and activates the glass clouding feature so no one can see through the glass.  Tech steps forward and cups Natelyte’s face, their eyes transfix on each other searching for the next move.  Nat takes notice of Tech’s posture, now straightened and taller due to the posture correction patch Ottehok slapped between his shoulder blades to correct his hunching.  Their lips connect, her arms wrap around his neck, she introduces her tongue into the mix and Tech hums with delight.  Tech steps forward to press Nat to the glass wall and the kiss deepens, their heat begins to overtake their minds, instinct begins to override logic and focus.  

Heat swells like a roaring star.  

“Tech….”  Natelyte moans when their lip’s part for just a moment.  Her lust lidded hazel orbs focus on his wide brown irises shielded by his specs.  “We should move from the glass.  I heard someone enter the lab.  People can see our figures against the glass wall…”  She speaks with a reluctant smile.  She did not want to pause in the moment, but privacy is priority in regard to this encounter.  

He is a Voider after all.

“Ah well, to your nook then?”  He smirks and pushes his frames up his bridge.  He takes a few steps back to get distance from the glass.  The disinterested look in Natelyte’s eyes is quickly noticed by Tech.  He comes forward to take one of her hands to spin her around the space between them, so her bottom is pressed against a desk that was behind Tech.  “Or I should we continue right here?”  He queries in her ear with his crotch piece pressing against her apex.  

“Ja right here, sonval.”  She mewls as he nips at exposed flesh on her neck.  His hands come down to her thighs to lift her onto the desk.  Her hands push aside monitors and a keyboard to make room for their encounter on the desk’s surface.  Teck kicks away a swivel chair just a foot away from their coupling.  “I’ve always wanted to be taken in this office.”  She lets out as Tech sucks away at her neck leaving hickies carelessly across her supple flesh.  “To be railed by a man of your faculty.”  

“You give me too much credit my taa ya nyota.”  He smiles as his hands come down to unhook his utility harness and comm link.  Nat follows suit and begins to unclasp her armor plating.  They strip down to their under clothes and eagerly entangle once more to explore each other’s forms.  

Natelyte’s full feminine curves draw the attention of his hands immediately.  First her thighs to then fearlessly cupping her breasts.  Her hands roam over his upper body memorizing every muscle groove, feeling his solid frame tensing beneath her touch, she catches notice of his flushed complexion, how pink his ears get when he blushes, it’s adorable.  He is touch starved, ravenous for physical contact of any manner possible, his throbbing member sandwiched between both their thighs is evidence of his physical needs.  His unbashful expression to her acknowledgement of his arousal has him take a moment and clear his throat.  

“Ahem.  With your permission Natelyte, I would like to record our coitus?”  His query is collected and serious.  She knows damn well that Tech exhibits Auralism; where one is aroused by sound; not that just any sound arouses him of course, but just the sounds that he desires to hear when in need.  Hence why he has a habit of recording nearly everything; he does it for his own reasons, from safety to necessity for assignments, for proof or for study.  But of course anything remotely having to do with sex, you best bet it will grab his attention for a moment before he remembers his surroundings and task at hand.  Nat knows all too well he is not referring to just audio recording their encounter, he will be recording everything.  

“Ja, the more angles the better actually.”  She halts her movements across his body and reaches back behind herself to activate a monitor.  Tech’s eyes narrow in bewilderment before she speaks again.  “I can capture more than just the angle of your frames.”  She speaks in a low sultry tone that rivets in his ear canal sending shivers down his spine and goosebumps to rise across his body.  She opens an application that allows her to wake all of the surrounding monitors in the office, activating a recording feature.  The cameras all blink with a red light signaling the start of their first coitus session.  Tech stares in awe at Natelyte’s expanded reach into this kink, and his cock throbs with gratitude.  “Perspective on all sides…”  her tongue slips into an ear, her hands return to his body with a fiery intensity making Tech’s knees weak.  His fingers brush along his goggles to begin recording their steamy encounter, and for Tech to get to work on his sonskyn.   

“May we disrobe?”  Nat nods and lifts the hem of his shirt first; she wants to see what this Techno Master looks like underneath everything.  She is not disappointed.  Tech is sporting a healthy muscle tone, a cog and skull tattoo on a shoulder and left pectoral muscle, several others accented with blaster scars and a stunning set of abs that has Nat bite her bottom lip in arousing admiration of Tech’s physique.  Tech’s hands come back to Nat’s body, he lifts off her shirt and pulls down her pants, panties, and socks.  His darkened brown eyes scan across her chestnut skin, her red curls complement the flecks of green in her brown pools.  Navy blue and crimson red runes line across her body, markings of achievements and lessons she has mastered throughout her life.  Her body is a sculpted masterpiece, Tech is far from being a religious man, but he’d be dammed it he didn’t want to worship the ground that this woman walks upon.  

He worships her in a different manner.  

Tech lifts her left foot into his mouth, slipping her toes between his lips, his tongue sweeping between her toes.  Nat slips onto her elbows to watch Tech do his thing.  He sucks on her big toe and releases it with a pop.  

“That was really nice.”  Nat says with a pleasant smile.  

“Your clitoris looks much nicer…”  Tech purrs planting a kiss to her lips first to then trail down her body.  Kissing each dark nipple, her pierced naval, down to her darkly pigmented clitoris.  Spreading her opening with his thumbs he inspects her coloring; it becomes pinker towards the center, her skin is smooth and tender, with arousal dripping from her.  His hands glide along her thighs, his warm breath fans over her apex, he witnesses her opening contract, the slit rising and falling in a slow motion, his places a slow wet kiss to her button.  Nat’s head falls back, she lowers from her elbows, to lay flat on the desk, she props her legs wide on the desktop.  His hands come up to her torso, pinching and rolling her nipples with his skilled fingers, burring his face between her legs focusing all of his affections on her clitoris.  Slow and featherlight ministrations, spelling his name and number in her folds, drawing all the sinful noises from Nat.

“Aw jaaa…”  She drabbles on babbling words in Norslyr, pleading for Tech to go just a tad lighter when pressing onto her clit.  His hands freely graze along her body, memorizing her form, her curves, down to the last scar.  Heat begins to form in her core, quickly building from Tech’s touching.  She takes one of his hands and sucks on the fingers, drenching the digits with her saliva for her own benefit.  Tech knows exactly what she wants him to do now, and he does it when she releases his fingers.  He fills her opening with one finger with a few pumps for her to adjust, to measure her readiness, and then he adds the second and her moans grow louder.  With raised brows he looks over his shoulder to look at the door, but what does looking at the door solve?  So he reaches up and covers her mouth to hush her lewd noises from prying ears.  Natelyte giggles and sucks on his fingers again whilst hooking a leg over his shoulder to lock his mouth back onto her clit.  “No one can hear us.  Not behind this glass.  I promise...!”  She sucks in air through her teeth and lets out a choked cry, her hips buck against his face.  Nat stands to her feet with Tech plastered against her clit from below.  His brown orbs open wide to take in the sight of her standing over him, hands fisting his hair to pull him into her with more pressure as his mouth opens wide to swallow her pussy.  She pulls on his hair from side to side to have his mouth swipe her opening, his hands come to her ass to hold himself steady on his knees.  Then she gushes with slick from above and he gulps down every last drop like a parched man drinking from a spring.  

The light of the amber screens drapes her body in a golden light personifying her as the physical embodiment of solar radiance.  

Nat’s legs shake, Tech’s strong hands support her at her rump, he pants for air and rises to his feet to seal their lips together.  Tongues dance frantically as she takes in her own taste glistening across Tech’s face.  

“That was an exquisite view, Nat.”  

“Lokacinka.”  She says breathlessly and pushes him down into the swivel chair behind him.  Tech scans the monitors around the room, he rolls the chair pushing with his heels to the center of the room, so each screen has an angle on them both.  Nat smiles with his attention to detail, but now she wants all his focus again on her instead of the technology around them both.  

All.  On.  Her.

Nat crawls between his legs and rubs his clothed bulge straining to be set loose from its prison.  The heat radiating from his crotch is intoxicating, drawing her in, mouth pooling with saliva, with want.  “Take this off.”  She pats his thighs and Tech stands before her and peels off his blacks.  Tech catches this next moment on his lenses, Nat’s eyes wide with shock, and an ambitious smile spreads across her face taking in the sight of Tech’s massive cock.  The veins raised almost perceived as being angry, but Tech is far from any sort of antagonized emotion.  His cock twitches at the first sight of Nat’s tongue darting out to swipe across her lips.  She presses his thighs for him to sit back down in the chair

“Are you hungry my sweet?”  Tech rasps as his hands find purchase in Nat’s thick curls.  

“Ravenous.”  She sighs and wastes no time in drooling over his cock.  She pumps him a few times, feeling the girth, watching a bead of hot precum spill from the tip down the shaft to mix with her saliva to be smear by her chestnut hands along his tan meat.  Sweet soft sighs leave Tech’s chest.  She brings the hot tip to her plump lips and kisses it a few times.  Dragging her lips down the shaft, licking her way back to the tip, slipping it between her lips for her tongue to swirl around the head.  Tasting his early seed and the salt of his skin.  

“Please…”

“Hmm?”  She hums with a full mouth sending vibrations around his solid member making his toes curl at the sensation.  

“Please be sloppy.  Make it loud and messy ta ya nyota.”  His grip tightens in her hair.  Nat knows what he wants, how he wants it, and she will do it only for him.  Nat chuckles with him in her mouth and she slides down his shaft swallowing him whole.  

Natelyte can deep throat.

Tech’s eyes fixate on her motions.  Her head bobbing up and down to suck him from tip to base, nose pressing to his pubic bone, throat expanding and contracting around his cock.  She gags and coughs while still managing to keep him stuffed inside.  She slurps and sucks loudly, her tongue swirls around the head and base.  She has his tip hit the back of her throat; she opens her mouth wider to let the wet sloshing sounds of her throat to echo within the room and fill his ears.

And for the cameras to hear.

Tears fall from the corners of her eyes; Tech pulls her hair to have her face look up at him, snot drips from her nostrils.  He can feel her swallow, it causes her to cough, she pulls off him, so she does not bite him.  As she coughs Tech stands up and takes her hand to have her sit on the desktop again, he separates from her as she wipes her eyes and nose.  Tech reaches down to pick and open a condom from a pocket of his belt and rolls it on.  Natelyte watches him do this and the puzzled look on her face has him smile in slight embarrassment.  

“Is that the fabled con-dom I’ve been hearing about from you Voiders?”  She smiles bringing a hand down to his now covered member to feel the rubbery barrier for herself.

“It is not a fable if it is real, my sweet.”  He smiles whilst cupping her face and kissing her deeply to commend her erotic blowjob.  

“What is a con-dom?”  Her accent while speaking Arubesh made it hard to speak that unfamiliar word.  

“It is a thin latex polyurethane barrier that goes on a male’s member to capture the sperm.”  He smiles at her with a flushed expression.  Drunk with need.  Burning with desire.  Yearning for release.  

“Oh…will it...still feel the same or?”  

“Yes, yes it will still feel the same for you.  I will lose much of the sensation, but it is worth it.  I wouldn’t want to risk impregnating you, Natelyte.”  Their foreheads pressing together, staring into each other’s eyes with understanding and adoration.  

“I could take my own protection.  An after pill.  That way you don’t need to miss out…”  She says pumping his shielded cock, gathering the strange lubricant that covers the outside.  

Tech wants to, he wants to feel her from the inside, her hot moist walls clenching around his throbbing mass.  But he cannot.  He must do it this way, he cannot risk the possibility of spreading his genes among the Norsik population, not even if it is with Natelyte.  

He just can’t.  

Nat sees his internal confliction, then his resolve as he clenches his jaw and lines himself up with her entrance.  Pumping himself and coating his cock with her juices.  “I want to, but I cannot.”  He says and cuts off any more of her pleas as he plunges inside her warm depths.  A loud moan escapes her chest as Tech thrusts inside her a few more times to sheath his piece within her, coating every last inch he has to give with her slick.  Then he holds himself still to look upon Nat, to see her already ruined around him.  Her legs wrap around his waist, her arms tighten around his shoulders, head buried in the crook of his neck groaning from the stretching pleasure of his cock.  

“You feel so good sonskyn.”  He purrs in her ear and begins moving a fast pace.  Every time he bottoms out inside her a beautiful gasp leaves her chest.  The sting of her nails digging into his broad shoulders fuels his need to fuck her harder.  Demanding that he fuck her hard as to wash away her previous thought of the barrier affecting her end of the pleasure between them.  His pleasure is surely dulled, but he uses that dullness as an advantage to last longer.  To fuck her for all that she is worth here and now.

Nat’s heels dig into his lower back, her breathing is ragged, she peels an arm from around his shoulder to vigorously rub her clit.  Tech growls at this action and replaces her hand with his own thumb.  She mewls at the harshness of his touch, she lays flat against the table, her breasts bounce in rhythm of his thrusts.  The monitors all shifting from the weight of his pounding, moving their angles around without touching them, it’s maddening.  

“Don’t stop!”  She cries out as her legs begin to tense around him.  Her hands come down to grasp his forearms to anchor herself to him.  Tech leans back with their arms locked together to press as deep as he can reach within her.  And she cums with a mighty cry as a wave of the most intense internal orgasm crashes within her.  Tech fucks her through it, unable to yield to his better judgement to slow down or cease his movements to allow her to settle once more.  He presses on, heeding her command, doing what she says, what she wants, he’ll do anything, everything for Natelyte’s pleasure.  

She deserves the stars.

Nat’s legs go limp around his waist, his arms release hers and return to the underside of her thighs to keep her legs at his sides.  Her eyes return from the back of her skull and come to refocus on the man fucking her into oblivion.  The aftershocks of electricity brought on by his unyielding movements makes her back arch and body jolt.  She whines his name and praises, how perfect he is, what he does to her, and how he keeps fucking her with a pleasant ferocity.  Her body returns to be flush against him, her hands combing through his hair, licking his neck, biting along his structures, marking him in the same careless manner he had done to her in the beginning.  He lets out sweet moans and sighs at her efforts.  Then Nat pulls herself close to his ear and speaks in a complete wrecked manner that has him obey every next word.  

“Sit in the chair and let me ride you like a wild Scorp.”  

Tech pulls from her and finds his place in the swivel chair quickly to be mounted by Natelyte’s thick thighs.  Her body is so soft and supple, covered in a sheen of sweat that has her glowing in the amber light of the screens.  She lines herself up and sinks down on him quickly to regain the fullness that he fulfills within her.  Tech can feel her entire body working on top of him, all of her weight, her skin, her scent, her muscles.  

“Da rana!  Zub da hasken rana a cikina!  Haskaka ni da farin dodo!”  Nat shouts like a battle cry.  Her movements are rocking the chair, making it squeak with every harsh landing of her hips against his.  The chair begins to feel as though it may break from their use of it.  Tech hopes that it does, all for that camera value.  How hard she can fuck him in return.   Her walls clench around him, her nails dig deeply into his shoulders to then release him and run her hands through her hair.  She leans back to give Tech a full view of the goddess riding him as she takes another orgasm for herself.

“Cum my darling.  Cum all over my cock again.  Take it all for yourself!”  he babbles.  His hands gripping her sides to support her as her bounces begin to become uneven and ill timed.  The tight coil within her snaps and her walls quiver around his shielded cock again.  This time she stops to take it all in, lifting her feet from the ground to have all her weight fully bare down on Tech which he handles with ease.  She sobs into his neck, holding her he stands with her in his grasp to lay on the floor, this will be his last bout, he is nearing his own limit now and wants to ejaculate while drowning in her hazel pools.  In missionary he begins to move slowly, pumping in and out from tip to base, scooping her out with his cock.  Her back arches from the tender aftershocks that sweep across her nerves, which he attempts to drown out with sweet kisses.  

Tech removes his goggles for this last bout, placing them near their heads to continue filming, but he wants to see her face to face.  

Nat is moved by this action, a clammy hand comes to cup his face, fingers tracing along his temple without the interruption of his goggles.  He is handsome.  Her hands come to wrap around his back, a hand grazes over the posture patch between his sharp shoulder blades.  His sweat drips down onto her which she revels in; the fact of knowing how hard Tech works in all aspects of his character in everything he does, it is admirable.  He plants kisses to her forehead and cheeks, nibbles at her neck as his chest falls to rest upon hers.  Natelyte takes a moment to acknowledge how Tech’s frame can easily cage her in beneath him, his heat enveloping her body, his sweat claiming very square inch of her body, as his cock lays claim to her internally.  Tech can feel her depths, no longer limited to physicality, but intellectually, emotionally…he can see it all in her eyes.  How much he means to her, the mark he has left on her brain, her heart, and now all over her body.  

“Gee nog…een uitbarsting my sonskyn…”  He speaks with a heeding tone to what is coming soon.  Nat reaches down to rub her clit, hearing the sounds of their wet skins squelching drives Tech up a wall.  Her moaning increases with pitch, her breathing quickening as she cums again on his cock.  

“Jaaaaa!  Ja! Ja-ah-aah!”  He fucks her again through another deeply felt orgasm which spurs him finally into his own.  

“Ah, yes!  Oh yes!  Karking hell!”  He shouts into the air with quick deep jabs into Nat’s core.  Pouring his unfelt seed inside of Natelyte, a Norse Valkyrie.  As they cum together, they kiss.  

They lay in heaving silence for a few moments before Tech pulls from her and rolls the condom off.  He reaches out for her canteen that had been knocked to the floor from off the desktop earlier and takes a sip for himself then relinquishing the rest of its contents to Natelyte.  She takes a few savoring gulps and hands it back to Tech.  They sit up together and lean against the desk for support.  

“That was awakening.”  Nat chuckles breathlessly looking to Tech for affirmation.  

“I agree.  I wonder how the recording is going to turn out.”  He says dryly and glances down at Nat with a teasing smile.  

“Oh I promise you it will turn out grate after I’m through with it.”

“Just you?  I assumed we would both work on it together…”  His voice cracks from parched vocal cords.  

“I think that is the first time you included someone in your assumption Tech.”  She looks him in the eyes with surprise.  He stares back at her; filtering through his stored memories like a data bank to find any other instance he had done this.   Assuming people already knew what was going to happen but did not know anything until he explained it aloud.  For once he hopes that this assumption would be correct.  Natelyte caresses his cheek fondly and places a chaste kiss to his lips to break his filtering.  “Of course we will work on it together, sonval.”  

Star Wars: Revelations Wolffe x Roso

TCW FanFic: Wolffe x Roso 

(Rosomak in full, meaning Wolverine in Polish)

Norslyr Language translations

Neuk/Neuken means fuck in Dutch

This is the first sexual encounter between these two characters in a series I am writing based on the aftermath of TCW.

WARNINGS:  Explicit through and through.  Unprotected sex, cursing, rough and wild, religious mentions, the taking of the Male V-Card.  

4.1K Words

Star Wars: Revelations: Wolffe x Roso

Wolffe takes a sharp breath as Roso pulls on his skin between her teeth.  She sucks on the skin below the neckline of his blacks.  Her hands roam his body, his skin burns under her touch.  His hands timidly begin to explore her body.  Roso breaks from him with a fierce smile.  

“You taste good soldier.”  She says and kisses his lips.  His face flushes red.  Wolffe has never experienced this before, he feels drunk.  

“You feel good ma’am.”  He lets out as she trails down his chest to the hem of his shirt and takes it off him.  Her legs tighten around his waist to bring her body closer to his bare torso.  Goosebumps rise on his skin and she bites his ear lobe.  Her hands comb through his hair and feel the expanse of his back.  His hands hold her close to his body, unable to know what he can do to her in return.  Roso slips back and removes her compression top.  His eyes widen at the sight of her stretching up and her breasts exposed.  He has never seen such beauty in his whole life until now.  

How cruel.

She tosses her shirt to the side and cups his face.  “Please touch me.”  She whispers with a kiss.  His hands run up her stomach to cup her breasts.  The skin feels so delicate, taut, and firm.  The air within the LATT Walker is still with a slight chill from the outside weather.  Making both of their nipples ridged.  He takes a nipple between his thumb and index and lightly rolls it around.  She giggles in response and bites his neck.  

Wolffe instinctually places his hands down at her thighs and positions her apex to rest atop his raging boner.  Roso hums in approval and begins to roll her hips against him.  Moans escape his mouth as she rolls.  He’s never experienced this kind of friction before.  He is utterly helpless underneath her.  He feels as though he may cum already.  Roso can see it in his eyes.

“Cum for me Wolffe, let it out it’s alright.”  She coos in his ear.  

So breathy, needy, all for him.  

He wraps his arms around her and takes what he needs from her to get off.  The release comes hard, his cock twitches between her legs.  The sheer strength of his rig is impressive like the rest of his frame.  She brings her hands to his hair while whispering sweet praises in his ear and giving small kisses to his cheek and neck.  He feels this praise is unearned, he’s done nothing for her.  

“Do you have more to give Trooper?”  She asks taking his chin in her hand.  

“Yes.  Much more.”  He asserts and stands up with her still wrapped around his waist.  

She lets out a surprised,” Oh.”  With an eager smile as he walks forward and places her on the holo desk in the center of the hull.  

“May I undress you?”  He asks as his hands fall to her waist band.  He’s on his knees looking at her like a young pup begging for a treat.

How fitting.

“You may.”  She says and her back meets the table as he slides her pants off.  She wants her panties off too, but his hands stop hers to leave them on.

“I uh- want to take these off with my teeth if that’s alright.”  He says and his face burns a bright red, but he doesn’t break from eye contact.  

“Ja, go for it, Wolffe.”  She answers with an impressed smile.  He slips her socks off so all that Roso is wearing is a bright white thong.  The color matches the facilities of Kamino, how endearing.  

“You hear about this from a brother?”  She asks with a curious smile.  He doesn’t bother to hide his cracked grin.  

“Yeah, and he’s right.  It is just as hot as he described.”  He finishes talking and kisses her inner thighs.  His hands roam over the scarred and tattooed skin.  Maker, she is the softest thing he’s ever had the opportunity to ever feel in his life.  He wants to take her in a bed, not a bunk or sleeping pod, a bed with real sheets and pillows.  A mattress bigger than he is so he can sprawl out, bury himself inside of her.  These thoughts muster an urge from within him as Wolffe stops kissing her thighs and pushes himself up to steal a kiss from her for once.

Wolffe is not a boy anymore, not for much longer at least.  He’s a man and needs to start taking charge of this situation as a man should.  Wolffe cups the back of her head and brings her to him.  The kiss is eager and deep.  Her hands come to his face to hold onto him.  She introduces her tongue to his mouth.  He intended to just kiss her briefly, but now he wants to explore her mouth.  

“Heh, give me that tongue somewhere else, Trooper.”  She breaks from him and releases his face to lay out on the desk.  He trails kisses down her body until he reaches the band of her panties.  His hands feel her breasts.  His warm breath brushes against her skin and a shiver runs down Roso’s spine.  His teeth grip the fabric from a hip, and he pulls it down a leg.  She lets out a soft mewl as he takes in the sight of her wet quim.  She tidied up down there.  The skin is tender, and a delicate pink color towards the center.  

Wolffe’s mouth waters at the bare sight of Roso’s pussy.  

“Tell me what to do.”  He rasps lowly.  Not embarrassed but more so wanting to please her the best he can.  To earn praise for his work.  

“Focus on this little part.  The clit.”  Her hand comes down and presses a little pink button at the crest of her folds.  He replaces her finger with his own to start exploring her terrain.  It’s soft and slippery.  Her hand covers his as he wiggles his finger on the clit.   Mesmerized by the way her legs prop up on the desk and the noises that she lets out into the still air.  

Wolffe takes his finger away and he can’t help but smell it, it’s bitter as the slick begins to dry.  Then he puts it in his mouth to taste it.  

- “I need more to get a real taste of her.”-  He thinks to himself and puts his whole index finger in his mouth to slick it up for her to take it with more ease.  He inserts his finger slowly.  He traces the opening carefully to inspect the durability.  This is where children are meant to come from, surely it can take a finger or two.  

As his finger slips in, Roso lets out a wonderful sound that Wolffe needs to hear more of.  She’s so wet, her moans, her hands come to her breasts to play with her soft nipples.  His tan skin entering her fair pink warmth has him throbbing below.  

Wolffe slides his finger in and out a few times and adds his middle finger.  She brings a hand down to meet his, not to stop him, but just to touch him.  He brings his tongue to her clit as his fingers work to open her up for his pulsing mass.  The hull begins to ring with her moans and mewls.  The air is growing warm with their bodies.  Her hand leaves his to grip his hair, which he finds turns him on even more.  

“Oh Wolffe...you’re so good!  You’re doing so good!”  She lets out with pleasure.  Roso can feel his fingers dig deep inside, stretching her in a blissful manner.  

She needs more.  

Roso’s hands comb through his thick hair, touching his shoulders to the back of his neck as his tongue laps at her clit.  She pulls the back of his hair to angle his eyes to look up at her as his tongue flicks at her clit.  She can feel that hot coil building in her core, her legs open wider, she leans back on her elbows.  To then just collapse on the table as her back arches.  He can feel her intensity, her need for release.  

Her moans grow louder and louder to a concerning level.  He almost stops to make her pipe down, but how can he do that to her?  Deny her a release as she had bestowed upon him moments before...or maybe he could stop now?  See if she would beg him, ask for him to continue, maybe she’d order him to make her cum.  The thought alone makes him hum with excitement which transfers onto Roso.

“Move your fingers faster please!”  She sounds completely out of control, just focused on one goal.  Wolffe breaks his face from her pussy and cranes up to silence her with a kiss.  He hooks an arm around her neck to cradle her up with his fingers working away below.  His tongue invades her mouth.  Roso tastes herself on his tongue and just melts on his hand.  He takes his fingers out but before she can protest, he switches to his middle and ring fingers and buries them to the last knuckle.  As he does this, he can feel a patch of rubbery skin inside her walls.  

“That spot...”. She stifles her moan in his shoulder.  “Yes, yes yes!  Ja!”  Wolffe inserts his fingers repeatedly and rubbing that patch until her walls quiver and what he thinks is piss that sprays him and drips onto the floor.  Her arms lock around his neck, he keeps fingering her until her hand comes down to clutch him still.  Her breath is ragged, and her grip is tight, her nails dig deliciously into his skin.  Wolffe hopes the marks she leaves do not heal too quickly.  He hopes they last to serve as a reminder of his accomplishment on this night.  Making a woman cum with just his fingers.  

Wolffe finds himself rubbing against her thighs for friction.  So caught up in her excitement forgetting about his own erection.  

“By Odin…”  She lets out softly into his neck.  Having her cling to him like this is beyond arousing.  Catching her breath, she reaches up and pulls her hair band out to let her bright blonde hair fall.  Roso looks up into Wolffe’s eyes from his chest with her beautiful sky-blue pools.  Tears of pleasure in the corners with flushed cheeks.  “That was amazing.”  She speaks with a sex drunk smile and kisses his plump lips.  Their tongues dance.  

Wolffe is reluctant to part from her but he needs to straighten up from his position.  Roso follows suit, the surface of the desk isn’t flat.  It has raised borders along the edge and center, which have been digging into her sides and back.  When she gets to her feet she nearly drops, the attentive soldier supports her.  She can no longer ignore his erection.  He has been rather patient and respectful with her.  Nothing like a petulant teenager poking and prodding for his own release with little care for her needs.  

Roso wraps her arms around his neck as they stood there and kisses Wolffe deeply.  Her hands slowly making their way down his broad chest down to his abdomen.  Her hands reach his waist band and pull them down to free his throbbing stalk.  She lowers to her knees.  She takes his cock in hand, while looking up at him she purposefully has his cock over her face to show him just how big his male equipment is in comparison to her female anatomy.  

He revels in this display.  He kicks his blacks off from his feet to be completely naked with her.  She licks a heated stripe up from his base to the tip.  Moved by this action he finds himself looking for something to lean against.  

“Sit down Wolffe.”  She says and he looks behind himself to see the chair they were in earlier.  He sits down and watches as she crawls on all fours to snake between his legs and pump his cock.  Locks of hair cover her left eye, both of which are swimming with lust.  Groans leave him as she plays with the head with her tongue.  She laps at the opening of his cock, digging her tongue into the divot.  His hands grip the arm rests, he doesn’t know what else to do with his hands.  Can he touch her?  Play with her hair?  Push her head down onto it?  His hips buck at the idea of just taking her skull and stuffing his rod down her gullet.  But seeing how large his mass is, he doesn’t want to choke her, at least not with his cock, his hands maybe…

Roso can read him like an instruction manual.  She ‘pops’ off his head and takes his right hand and places it to the back of her head to grip her hair.  “I can’t deep throat.  But I’ll do my best sir.”  She says in a sultry voice before taking more of him in her mouth.  She cleans his cock from all the dried release he let out earlier.  

- “Glad he cares to groom himself.”- Roso thinks to herself, appreciating the shaved pubes above his shaft.  

The light from the viewport captures the raised veins that rage within his cock.  His balls are tight, even with the recent release he is ready to deploy another battalion of his own soldiers for her.  The lewd noises that come from her mouth as she swallows him down makes him open his legs more.  Relaxing whilst enjoying the view and the pleasure.  But he doesn’t have another round in him if he cums again, she knows this.  Roso hollows her cheeks and sucks him deeply.  The heat of her mouth mixed with her precise tongue and saliva mix around his shaft.  With a few more bobs his head falls back with a sinful moan.  His grip loosens from her hair and falls to grip her throat.  

“I want your quim woman, please.”  His voice is at a dangerously low tone that makes Roso squirm with delight.  She responds with taking his cock from her mouth with another loud and erotic ‘pop’.  Then she climbs onto him once again.  She leans forward to get his mass lined up with her aching opening.  Wolffe doesn’t think he can fit all the way inside her, he’s clearly much too big for her entrance.  But he’d be damned if he didn’t try and push for it.  

Wolffe’s hands come to her sides to support her as she rises, the head rests at the opening.  Roso watches Wolffe’s eyes narrow in anticipation, he takes a sharp inhale, his Nero’s Crown bobs in his throat with a gulp.  A devilish glint appears in Roso’s eyes as she sinks down onto him.  Her hands come from his chest to his throat, she needs both hands to assert her grip around him.  His hands tighten their grip on her hips in response.  She gets him halfway inside.  Her walls are so tight around him, he doesn’t know which tightness to focus on. 

Her tight grip around his throat or her pulsing pussy.

“Roso…”  He sighs.  Heated tears of ecstasy form in the corners of his eyes.  She feels too good.  Her beautiful tattooed and scarred sculpted body on top of his own.  His toes curl at the overwhelming pleasure.  She moves up a ways, he can feel the drag of their connections.  Then she sinks back down swallowing even more of him until she buries his whole cock inside herself.  Her walls pulse around him.  

“Shhh now.  Let the experienced do her job, soldier.”  She lifts a finger to his lips.  With the release of that hand, he can breathe more, but this leaves him to dive into the euphoria of her insides.  He can feel ridges inside her, it’s soft and yet resilient.  It feels like a muscle and reacts like one.  

It is truly divine.  

Wolffe’s jaw goes slack, and his head falls back as she bounces on his meat.  She feels the burn of her opening from the stretch of his girth.  Her forehead falls into the crook of his neck as she rides him.  His hands gripping tightly on her hips.  Her nails scrape his scalp and shoulders.  

“So tight…”  He whimpers into the open air.  His head becomes dizzy.  Roso begins panting, her tongue slides along the column of his neck.  “So good…so wet…oh kriff!”  He pants into her ear as his hands wrap around her holding her close and reaching down to cup her ass.  

“You’re so big Wolffe!  Ah!  Neuk me door Odin!”  She hisses through her teeth as she bites into his shoulder to stifle her scream.  

“Kriff…bite me harder.”  He seethes through his teeth, taking the pain and begins to thrust up into Roso.  He wants more.  She follows his request and picks a new spot closer to his neck.  She bites him again and again, her nails dig into his back, the chair begins to rock about as she slams down onto him.  

Her warmth envelopes him, not just her physical anatomy; but her entire presence.  

Dominating yet displays refreshing feminine grace.  A determined and kind smile.  Her vocabulary is creative and endearing as Arubesh is not her first language.  She treats the men as human beings, inspires individuality, and evokes independent thinking.  All things his engineering should refuse right?  Especially being intimate with a female, it should not be a desire.  But when Roso tore Bric a new one on Kamino after he disrespected Jedi Knight Shaak Ti behind her back in front of the battalions; he could not deny his ingrained human male desire.

Wolffe must fuck Roso, she catches wind of his need.  Now here she is answering the demand of this Alpha male.  

“Neuken Thor!”  She keeps saying the name of other men.  Wolffe will no longer subject himself to hear her scream the name of other men whilst she is riding him.  

“That.  Is.  Not.  My.  Name.  Woman!”  He snaps up with his arms under her legs as his words are punctuated with every thrust.  Each thrust he pulls out to the head and stuffs himself back inside with a newfound ferocity.  Each thrust pushes the air from her lungs as he fills her insides to reshape her quim to the shape of his thick stalk.  A thin sheen of sweat breaks across the both of them as the heat of their sex fills the walker’s hull.  

“Ah!  Wolffe!  Oh Wolffe!  Ah!  Ah!  Alpha!”

“Just my damn name!”  He pounds away, he slams her to the holo desk and keeps her legs spread with his hands gripping each ankle.  Her breasts bounce in rhythm to the force of his hips smashing into hers.  As her mind goes blank, she realizes that the word Alpha is also a name given to more distinguished Clones.   

His force is so great it makes Roso think that he’ll saw her in half.  His cock is buried to the hilt.  With no sign of stopping unless she makes amends.  He was right to punish her for screaming the names of other men while he is the one delivering this pleasure onto her.  To make amends for her error she looks up at him with apology dripping from her eyes.  Her hands reach up to signal for him to lean down over her so she can cling to him, to take his brutal onslaught of prurience.  

“Wolffe…”  She mewls.  He cannot punish her, for she is not…his.  

His pace lessens but does not halt.  He is close now.  He leans down to accept her embrace.  His hands slide down to grasp her and pull her to his chest.  Her legs wrap around his waist as her nails dig into his back once more.  His cock pumping inside, her warmth squelches with every thrust echoing in the hull with their pants and moans.  She returns her teeth to his unmarked shoulder.

“Where should-should I- cum?”  He lets out between grunts.  

“Wherever you want…Wolffe!”  She whines in his ear followed by inserting her tongue into it.  Her breasts press against his chest, her quim clenches, and squirms.  The slapping of their flesh is erotic.  His girth fulfills her needy ache.  

As Wolffe nears release, every cell in his body screams to cum inside.  He focuses on what he physically can feel on his member.  Roso’s pitch becomes higher, her whines are drawing out.  He hammers down into her as if he were Thor and she the Anvil.  Roso clutches a fistful of his hair and the words Wolffe has longed to hear finally spill from her mouth.

“Wolffe I’m cumming!  I’m cumming on your cock!  Right now, ah!”  A white-hot flash blinds Roso.  Her coiling ache releases around Wolffe’s cock which constricts his member in a way he has never fathomed.  He drops to his knees with her in his arms and he does the only thing a soldier knows how, he presses onward.  He continues to rut into her with unsteady thrusts but remains buried to the hilt inside her, trying to feel her snug pussy for all its worth while she comes undone on him.  

Wolffe cums inside her.  It is abrupt.  It is hard.  It takes their breath away.  

He cups the back of her head as he falls forward, his body needs to be as deep inside her as possible.  

As he cums, Wolffe howls.  

His rig releases a very generous load.  An amount he has never released on his own before.  His blistering ropes can be felt filling up her womb.  She is going to be feeling him for the remainder of the week she can just tell.  He collapses on top of her.  His breath brushes across her neck.  He buries his face in her shiny hair and removes himself from her spent apex.  They remain there in a loose embrace of tired and heaving limbs.  

His seed spills from her pot.  

Wolffe props himself up with one arm to look down at Roso.  An arm is raised to her forehead, she regains her breath and looks up at him.  She brings a hand to his cheek and they share a deep kiss.  He has marks all over his upper body and back, almost matching the same number of scars on her own body.  But she knows he will wear them proudly.  Her fair skin is glistening in their sweat.  He sits up to give her space, he looks between her legs to see his cum spill from her engorged opening.  His cock twitches but doesn’t have the strength to rise once more.  

But the sight of this…what it signifies…

“Thank you…”  He says to break the lingering silence in the hull.  

“Heh, ja, thank you Trooper.”  She says and sits up and leans back against the holo desk.  “Honored to show you a good time for your first time.”  She winks at him.  Her legs close him off from the sight between them.  

“It was magnificent.  Aside from the use of others’ names.  Could’ve done without that.”  He smirks.  

She closes her eyes and her head dips forward for a moment, then returns her gaze to meet his.  “Odin is the All Father of my Gods.  Thor is one of his mightiest Sons.  Alpha was only to refer to you as the ‘Alpha Wolf’.”  She clears the air.  “You were fucking me with the spirit of Gods Wolffe.”  Her eyes light up in the darkness of the hull.  A foot drags up the side of his leg affectionately.  He feels pride in his chest, he has earned this praise.  

He moves over to sit next to her and leans against the bottom of the holo desk.  Her hand finds his and their fingers entangle.  Her head rests on his shoulder, both still panting slightly, coming down together from their highs.  For as right as this all feels, Wolffe knows all too well that this isn’t a real relationship.  It never can be, it could exist however if he were not a Clone.  Secondary property of the Republic, firstly to his Kaminoan creators.  Both entities forbidding any sort of intimate relationship.  

He is property, nothing more and nothing less.  Roso understands the purpose of his creation and yet here they both are.  Being intimate as nature intends for men and women.  And no one from either side came in and busted them.  This is a conclusion that these men need to realize on their own terms; and they will in due time. But this isn’t a time for an angsty speech. They enjoy the moment together.  

“Wolffe?”  Roso asks softly.  He says nothing but looks down at her with a gentle gaze.  

“I’d love to have you again sometime in the future.”  She says and plants a thoughtful kiss to his lips.  He reciprocates her feelings with a warm smile and a brightness within his eyes.  She knows in that very instant; the next time she finds him within the Void, that brightness will no longer be present within both his eyes.  

“I look forward to it, Roso.”

Star Wars: Revelations: Crosshair x Ottehok

TCW Fanfic: Crosshair x Ottehok

Norsik Language is called Norslyr:

Ottehok- Shade in Russian

Forbandet Afkom- Cursed Offspring in Danish

Alfodr- Meaning All Father/Odin

Pabbi- Daddy in Icelandic

This is the first sexual encounter between these two characters in a series I am writing 

based on the aftermath of TCW.

WARNINGS:  NSFW, explicit 18+, cursing, P in V, protected sex, butt stuff, rough sex, gagging, slapping, pet names, male Dom, female Sub (kinda), allusion to past trauma. (Both individuals are slightly emotionally fractured, also the cleanest characters who have the nastiest sex;).  

4.3K word count.  

Crosshair x Ottehok

The Norse Executioner, Lone Ranger; Ottehok. A rather stunning peach colored Zebrak/Trandoshan female. The oracle of her field.  She must continue to slay Forbandet Afkom believed to be the blooded kin of the Goddess named Hel.  It has been said that Ranger, Ottehok; is the God Heimdall incarnate, the Great Watcher for Bjornheim.  She remains chained to the grounds of the spreading Ragnarok Ranges until the Afkom have been Cleansed from the terra. 

Crosshair demands to taste this caliber of woman.  

The Scourge Sniper, the Overwatch for his Troop, Crosshair.  A recognized Wingman; a Norse position given to the sharpest of Gunsmen.  Ottehok witnessed his capabilities when it came to the Cleanse of Thovid.  How he strangled a Zerbrak Cannibal with just his bare hands, smiling while doing so.  How he takes the rear path to watch over his Troop, hence Overwatch.  Unlike some members of his crew, he participated in the Cleansing of the cannibal younglins.  Did not hesitate, no remorse, delivered a swift and painless death upon them and moved on for that was the task that needed to be done.  

Crosshair’s actions reflect his forging, qualities Ottehok desires in a mate.  

But this encounter is not about love, affection, or breeding; this is about a deserved release.  A needed break from the ten-year expanse of isolation this woman has endured for the sake of her people.  Who either respect or reject her.  Either way she goes about her tasks, her way, the way that things need to be done for her people.  Her resolve is gleaming in her rust-colored eyes as she removes her helmet in front of Crosshair.  

In the hull of the Solar Scourge Ottehok places her helm on a crate alongside her pack.  Crosshair observes her motions as she reaches up and releases her pine green hair from a low bun and shakes her head.  He split tongue tasting the air.  He removes his helmet along with his gloves and meets her level of resolve as their lips collide.  

Crosshair dominates the kiss.  She desires pleasure from him, and he will deliver it to her, his way.  Her arms hook around his neck as they kiss.  She raises her height just an inch on the tips of her toes to reach his lips more comfortably.  Her hands glide through his soft hair while his graze along her sides to pull their midsections closer together.  The sounds of their armors rubbing against each other fills their ears.  Ottehok stands flat on her feet to break the kiss and take a breath.  Her hands sliding down his chest plate as her eyes stare up into his, admiring his stature.  His gaze is soft but not unguarded, attentive to all her movements, keeping wary of this Executioner.  But neutrality floods her gaze, a hand gently cups the right side of his face to feel the shadow of a beard and the bottom portion of his tattoo.  

Ottehok drops her guard entirely in this moment.

Crosshair slightly tilts his head into her touch.  Her fingerless gloves allow him to feel bits of her skin against him.  Ottehok begs for a break from everything for just this moment with her eyes.  But he wants to hear her ask for it.  

“What do you want?”  His voice a low rasp as his hands come around her waist to hold her close to him.  

“Your cock…”, her voice breaks with need as she continues.  “To writhe underneath you…marked by your teeth…to have every hole in me used by you.”  She finishes with her hand moving to cup his jaw with fingers parting his lips to inspect his perfectly aligned pearly whites.  He allows this touch to occur, far to used to being inspected in such a manner on Kamino.  Her hands trail down his chest plate with fingers grazing at his codpiece.  She knows well enough to wait for his permission to begin removing it for him.  

She knows what she wants.

Of all the remaining men on Norsik, this devout Pagan comes to surrender herself to an Off-Worlder.  Crosshair takes great consideration if he should indulge this woman.  This planet has rules that these people must follow or else his crew may be banished from the planet with the Norse participant being written off as a sacrifice to atone for their sins.  He must decipher if this woman is setting him up; thus, banning himself and his crew from this system that they helped liberate or if she really is just in need for a good thrashing.  He confirms that it is the latter as she removes her wrist comm and throwing her harness with holsters containing blasters and knives.  She is completely bare of any sort of possible recorders or weapons.  

Crosshair releases a chuckle as a hand comes up to brush a lock of hair behind her ear and swiftly takes her chin into his hand.  “Want to be used in any particular order?”  He purrs whilst stepping forward to press her back against a storage crate to box her in.  He makes it clear that he wants to absorb all her focus.  A knee rises between her legs to nudge at her core which she instinctively begins to grind upon.  

“I do not like a-t-m…”  She says shyly, batting her eyes up at him.  

“I wouldn’t do that to you…Peaches.”  Crosshair knows full well that Ottehok despises this nickname.  Anyone who mocks her with it ends up shot or wounded in some form or another by her hand.  It is always thrilling to witness her exact justice upon those who slight her or her comrades.  But in this instance, she bites her bottom lip and her fingers curl into the front of his chest plate to signal for undressing as her walls drip hot nectar at his voice using that name.  He drops his knee while their deft hands work away at their armor straps stripping to their under clothes.  “So begulling…”  He admires her body with a step backward to take in her full frame.  Ottehok stands at 6’1, slender build with divine muscle tone true to her Zebrak genetics.  She is quite the attractive creature through and through.  The Trandoshan heritage is identifiable with her eyes, voice, and tattoos which just add to her allure.  

Ottehok is the most unique being Crosshair has ever had the pleasure to work alongside.  

Crosshair aims to make her steady eyes roll into the back of her skull.  Maybe he can make her croak within the hull for all to hear.  Make them all hear how she likes to be used by an Off-Worlder; implying that this fornication is a testament to any men that hear their sex that Norsemen do not suffice to satisfy her.  The filthy things Ottehok craves from a man with the resolve to do it too her…  

Crosshair grabs a few condoms from a pack strapped to his armor and sets them atop a crate.  He leans back against a tall storage box with his arms folded across his chest, eyes fixated on Ottehok.  The lights are dim within the hull, he watches her from the surrounding darkness just outside the rim of light as she remains under a faint glow.  The shadows accentuate her womanly curves and brighten her peach-colored skin.  

“Strip.  Show me that pretty little peach of yours.”  He speaks with a smug smirk.  Ottehok gives him a show with bedroom eyes and a soft pouty look.  All being fueled by the ache between her legs.  She stands before him naked, taking it upon herself to follow his request to show him everything.  She hops onto a crate behind her and opens her legs, licking her fingers with her split tongue to spread her neatly tucked folds.  Crosshair is beyond pleased with the view.  

He inspects Ottehok further, he has been aware of her split tongue the first time she removed her helm to speak the night she had to explain the situation at the Ranges.  But now he can see everything.  Her nipples and navel are pierced, tattoos cover much of her body from her toes to her fingers reaching up to her neck.  Norslyr text etched into left side of her scalp that reads, ‘Take No Prisoners’ when her hair is arranged in fierce battle braids.  Her breasts are void of any ink; her solar plexus has an extremely detailed dagger pointed up towards her neck.  That is a very intense part of any anatomy to receive a blow let alone hours of ink.  His sights fall to the vivid red orange color of her pussy, the delicate skin there matches the color of her nipples and lips.  

Delicious.

Ottehok is built to endure the harshest of elements that Norsik has to offer.  Crosshair wants to see if she can withstand an element from the Void.  

Crosshair licks his lips and steps forward to place his skilled hands on her warm body.  They share a deep kiss before he breaks away and kneels to take in the sight of her peach.  His hands cup her breasts to tease her nipples as he dives in with his tongue to taste her decadent nectar.  She is touch starved, reacting to everything he does wherever his touch wanders.  The shivers he delivers through her body feel much like she was a virgin once more.  His tongue dips inside and then back to her clit spelling his name in Arubesh eliciting the lewdest of noises a woman can make.  Ottehok falls backward while gripping at his hands and hair.  He adds a finger and pumps it a few times before adding a second as her peach floods with juice mixed with his saliva.  

“Pabbi!”  She whines as her back arches off the crate and her legs begin to tense.  He rises to look her over, watching her orgasm erupt through her body as he keeps the pace with his fingers to thoroughly work her through it.  Her feet find purchase on the edge of the crate with her eyes glued shut as the comets stream across her vision.  His pace quickens and he angles his precise fingers to rub that special little spot inside her which forces her peach to overflow with sweet nectar onto the floor.  Crosshair removes his fingers and shoves them in her mouth as she tries to catch her breath.  

“What did you say?”  He asks near her ear then bites her neck.  She winces but gives her response through the action.

“Pabbi…daddy…”  Tears leave the corners of her eyes as he looks down upon her and removes his fingers from her mouth.  He licks away the streaks with a pleasant hum.

“Mm, I like that.  Call me pabbi or sir from now on, understand Peaches?”  Her body tremors at the pet name, from now on Crosshair is the only one allowed to call her that.  She nods and sits up to meet his lips again but he stops her with a hand to her shoulder.  “And… you need to ask for my permission to cum.”  Her lust filled gaze diminishes and she cups his jaw with knit brows.  

“I will play the name game, swallow your fluids, take your punishments.  But I will never ask for permission for my own orgasms.  Sir.”  This is the most she has ever really spoken to Crosshair in Arubesh, she is improving.  

“So, you are not going to comply?”  His eyes narrow with a sharp edge but Ottehok sneers and pushes him back for her own space.  She hops off the crate and nearly topples over as her legs are still shaking from her orgasm.  She bites her cheek to force herself to stand up as to not appear weak in front of him any longer.  Crosshair’s cock is a painful throbbing rod that is clearly visible to both people.  But now she has apparently received enough of a release to tap out, leaving him out to dry.  Crosshair is flooded with dangerous emotions, things he shouldn’t be feeling or thinking of.  

“You have no jurisdiction over me Voider.  This is my terra, my body.  We can continue but as I submit to you, I expect for you to make me cum.  As much as I want, as much as you can make me, and I do the same for you.”  Her trigger finger jabs into his chest with every point she makes, wearing a scowl that equally rivals his own.  “The hunt for orgasm is what keeps me submissive, Wingman.”  She finishes and crosses her arms with a face of determination he recognizes from her 116,400 hours of footage while in the Ranges when fighting Afkom.  Ottehok views Crosshair as a predator invading her hovel; a man pushing a set boundary.  Too not be snuffed he must respect her grounds.  

Crosshair sighs and his lip twitches for a second as if he had a toothpick between his lips.  “Very well.”  He acknowledges her terms and steps forward and places his hands on her shoulders.  He peers down at her with a softened gaze fixated on her stern look.  He wants to melt that look away and replace it with the face she had earlier when she was unraveling on his fingers.  “I will make you erupt with pleasure my sweet peach.  I just like to hear you beg for it…”  He admits lowly and kisses her forehead.  Her arms drop to his waist band pulling him flush against her as they embrace for this moment between them.  

“I can beg, sir.  I promise you; I will beg…”  Her sultry tone is silenced with a deep kiss and his cock is freed against her stomach.  She pulls up the hem of his undershirt and he removes it while her hands run down his body as she drops to her knees to pull his bottoms down to strip him naked with her.  

A hand strokes his shaft while the other cups his balls.  Her mouth laps at the bead of precum at the tip and her split tongue runs over his frenulum in a widely new sensation that forces a shallow groan to leave his chest.  Both hands fist her hair and has her mouth all to himself now.  She can take most of him in her throat, a hand comes to rest on his hip to push against it when he tries to get the last few inches inside her mouth.  Her eyes are wide with tears in the corner which is an erotic sight to Crosshair.  The sloppy gagging noises she makes fill the hull.  He continues to fuck her throat by just having his hands bob her head, if he were to start thrusting his hips, he’d most likely cum too soon.  

“Suck me harder…”  he coos brushing hair from her eyes so she can clearly look at him from below.  Messy noises come from her as she gags, bile comes up to coat his cock and down the front of her body and onto the floor.  He pulls her off with a click of his tongue and she coughs for air.  “You just love making messes, don’t you?”.  He says taking a fistful of hair to pull her up to her feet and guiding her back to the crate she was on earlier.  

“Always…p-pabbi…I’m sorry…”  She wipes her mouth with the back of a hand as he lifts her onto the crate to spread her legs.  She is soaking wet all the way down her legs, just a complete mess that this Clone Commander must clean up after they are done here.  Crosshair grabs a condom and rolls it on, he quickly glazes his cock in her nectar placing the head at her opening.  Before he plunges inside he anchors her down with a firm grip to her neck.  She replies with a devious smile and a pleading glint.  He smiles and gently pushes inside her in a fluid motion that has Ottehok moaning like a whore.  

Her toes curl, her eyes darken and squeeze tight, she nearly screams when he pulls back and thrusts back in a few times to penetrate her more deeply.  She is unbelievably tight, very closely to the feeling when she was a virgin and being…used…by members of Irrek Hall when she was young.  The very blistering pain of those memories that she has buried for so long come welling up and she starts to cry.  It is unnerving to Crosshair; he releases her throat and almost pulls out when she grasps his shoulder to stop him.

“No!  No please!  Please pabbi- Crosshair!  Don’t stop…”  While sobbing.  “I need this…”  

“Gah fine!  Just take it like this then!”  He berates impatiently and flips her onto her stomach to pound her from behind.  “But if it becomes too much you better say something or I will just keep going, understood?”  Ottehok nods her head wiping her nose with her hand as he bares down inside her mercilessly.  His hips snapping into her ass to make up for the loss of her warmth for those few seconds.  He grunts into her ear, her back arching whilst continuing to cry.  This feeling much better than all the past times, his girth stretching her open, length piercing her deeply, slapping her ass with an exciting ferocity that makes her cunt twitch around him.  Crosshair bends forward and hooks an arm around her neck to choke her in a new fashion.  His mouth nips at her ear, his grunts filling her canal as his cock fills her pussy like no Norseman has ever done before.  His hand comes to cover her mouth with his precise fingers covering her nose as he flexes his arm around her neck to near suffocation.  

One of her hands comes to his that is cupped to her face and the other slams the top of the crate to signal for air.  His fingers lift off from her nose and mouth, but his palm still presses to her cheek.  When he feels she’s caught enough air his fingers return to smother her again.  His fingers dive into her mouth to slicken them up for his next approach.  He pulls off her back releasing her from his grip and looks down at her round little ass.  His trigger finger pokes into her anus.  Her head pops up from the crate and she props her upper body up on her forearms and the back of her head is met with his left hand which forces her forehead to the crate.  Then he slides the rest of his long slender finger into her ass.  Her walls clench around his cock, triggering another eruption of nectar to spill from her splitting peach.  

“Such a dirty girl…”  He growls as she comes undone.  Her legs close together and with a disapproving click of his tongue Crosshair forces her legs apart with his feet and quickens his movements in her ass.  He drips a clear strand of saliva from his mouth to coat her anus to keep it lubricated for easier pleasure.  He fucks her again through another orgasm, Ottehok sobs and whines underneath Crosshair.  Her arms reach out to grasp the edge of the crate to anchor herself down as her stomach keeps rubbing against the rough surface of the crate in an uncomfortable manner.  Crosshair adds his middle finger to her ass as she begins to quiver around his cock, he needs to relax her.  He pulls himself out of her entirely, his arms wrap around her hips to lift her off the crate and lay her on the floor.  He rolls her onto her side, he comes to her back to take her from behind.  She purses her lips wanting a kiss which he obliges, then nudges her ass with the head of his cock.  Her hand grips his thigh as she takes him in, he nips at her ear and buries his face in her hair while slowly pushing his way into her tight cavity.  His hands roam her body to grasp her nipples and gently roll the nubs to stimulate her.  Ottehok feels like her body is burning, she is no longer crying now.  Crosshair has fucked the memories out of her mind for good.  Using every part of her like this, it is what she needed to forget the past.  She knows that she has control over her body, her own pleasure, how she needs it to be.  Her skills and what she has done for herself have afforded her the respect necessary to get what she wants, who is going to refuse an Executioner?  

No one.

Crosshair pushes in slowly; he makes it halfway in before she winces, nails dig into his thigh eliciting a slap to her face to ease the digging.  He quickly cups her throat to choke her and pulls back and thrusts back in trying to get deeper before a choked croak ripples through the column of her neck.  Her hips jerk away but he follows her movement to remain inside her and he ends up rolling on top of her to pin her down.  

“Too much!  Ah too much pabbi!”  She gasps out.  

“Then hold still and let me find a balance for us both!”  He shouts over her cries.

Crosshair rolls off her and back on to their sides.  His hands grasp her hips to keep her in place and his tongue trails up her neck.  He lightly bounces his cock inside her ass with half the length in.  It is warm with much more pressure around his cock than her pussy.  It is much easier to slide in and out of her pussy than her ass, but it feels great nonetheless.  “H-how does this feel Peaches?  Is this good?”  He asks trying not to sound like a little boy about to burst for the first time.  He’s never had the opportunity to try anal, he’s played with ass before but never got to penetrate it with his cock.  

Ottehok releases a beautiful sound from her chest as his cock splits her ass in two.  It begins to feel so pleasurable that he can start moving deeper inside as she relaxes with this gentler pace.  Quick and shallow, equivalent to rabbits.  Crosshair sees a smile spread across her face with a pink hue glowing on her cheeks.  She looks delighted.  

“I’m going to cum again, sir…”  She moans as a hand comes down to play with her clit.  He swats her hand away to take over for her, rubbing tight fast circles on her clit as she bucks forward from the quick stimulation.  

“Mm ahhh!  Slowly please pabbi!  Slowly…”  She ends her sentence with a shush while guiding his fingers to the rate of speed that she wants.  Her ass relaxes and she can take his entire cock now with ease.  Her moans grow in volume as she experiences yet another explosive orgasm from her ass this time.  

“Are you cumming?”  

“Ja!”

“From your ass?”  His voice a smooth husky tone.  

“Ja ja!  From your cock sir!  Alfodr!”

“Oh Peaches…”  His final words before she lets out an arousing croak while her ass contracts around his sheathed mass.  Her eyes roll into the back of her cranium as her core gushes with emanation.  He works her through it again followed by pulling out of her as she lays there seeing comets burning through atmospheres.  He rolls the condom off and sticks himself back into her ass with a few more pumps sending devastating aftershocks through her writhing body.  He bites her shoulder with a grip around her throat making her release choked gasps as his cock twitches, spewing hot molten cum inside of her.  

Ottehok reaches back over her shoulder to caress the heaving man behind her.  Arms gripping around her like a vice.  Cock softening inside her ass.  His eyes open to look at her, his arms lessen their grip, and she moves to separate from him.  They pick themselves off the ground to sit on an elongated crate on the floor.  Ottehok feels comfortable enough to lean against Crosshair’s shoulder, to reciprocate the closeness he rests his chin on her head.  Naturally they both scan the area around them to see if anyone had snuck in to watch them.  

Crosshair’s post nut clarity kicks in and he moves to stand first which he does with ease after only cumming once.  Ottehok remains seated, panting by herself as Crosshair begins to redress in his blacks and gathering her under clothes to bring to her on the crate.  

“We should shower.”  He says first to break the silence.  

“You can.  I must start my trek back to the Ranges.”  She says pulling her clothes back on.  

“You can’t be serious.”  He stops all movement to gawk at her ridiculous statement.  

“Ja.”  She nods and moves to pick at pieces of her armor.  

“You are going to start your trek…a fourteen-rotation journey back to the Ranges like this?  A complete filthy wreck.”  He folds his arms looking down at her from above.  

She looks up at him with a cocked brow,

” Ja.  This is my penance for taking an extra day for myself.  I should have left yesterday immediately after Phara was put down.”  She breaks eye contact to strap her plates on with more focus.  Crosshair just stares, baffled by her resolve and the sudden realization that she just used him to punish herself for selfishness, if it can even be called that.  From her decade in the Ranges, to the March to Cleanse Thovid and the March back to Bjornheim, then the Liberation of Bjornheim…just to take twenty-four hours for herself to rest, eat, and be fucked before trekking back to that Helscape.  

Kriffing Norse.

𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐭

Captain Rex x F!Jedi!Reader Pt.2 Your first kiss with Rex, when the two of you were young and hopeful, and your last one, where he wished for nothing more than to protect you, to be by your side until your very last breath. Word Count: 5389 Warnings: Minor swearing (?), sad Rex, creepy man alert. A/N: I'm not proud of or satisfied with the first half, but I needed to pour my Rex love out into words <3

The first time you and Rex shared a kiss, it was.. Sudden. It was thrilling. It was indescribable, really.

It had blood rushing to your cheeks in spurs, heat spreading throughout your body as his fingers gripped bruises onto your hips, his lips hot and soft against your own, trapping you between his broad shoulders and an old, sticky counter.

The two of you had been sent on a mission, a Jedi and a Clone Captain. Hand in hand, the two of you played a newly married couple as you had been tasked by the Jedi Council. At first, you had no objections, but when you realised it meant the two of you would be fully and wholly alone, your hands began to tremble, your heart began to rattle and all your resolve seemed to crumble.

Sure, you were solid in your beliefs, and that included ignoring your ever-growing crush on the blonde, tan-skinned, honey eyed Captain of the 501st. 

But with more convincing, General Skywalker and Kenobi had managed to get you to agree, and soon the two of you were shipped off to a supposedly Neutral planet, where your bounty hunter had taken cover from the GAR's watchful eyes.

The air on this planet was nothing short of stuffy, particles clinging to your lungs like thick lumps of goo. The streets were nothing but grime, sweat and dirt as your eyes scanned the place. There were potholes in the roads, small crowds of traders and sellers and horse-riders, as well as the occasional trios of smokers that hung outside bars. The streetlights were the only source of light, the planet's moons having been hidden away behind a thick, lingering swarm of clouds.

Rex could feel your shoulders stiffening, and on instinct he had pulled you closer. According to the coordinates provided by General Kenobi, the bounty hunters' hideout was just a mere few-minute walk away from your current position, and so, the two of you made your way there. 

Numerous stall owners had attempted to steal your attention away, offering glamorous jewels and accessories and flashy trinkets, but were quickly shut up and dismissed by one hard glare from Rex, his fingers finding solace on your shoulder, keeping you protectively close.

He himself wasn't all too willing to embark onto this mission, but an order was an order, no matter how hard General Skywalker attempted to mask it as a request, as a choice.

And now, having you this close, Rex was almost forced to question all the rules and regulations that the longnecks and the Council and the Republic had imposed, had implanted into the clones, onto himself. With your scent invading his senses, with your warmth being shared between the two of you, Rex wasn't so sure if he was willing to stay single for the rest of his life.

Not when your nimble fingers latched themselves around his biceps like soft snares, caressing and squeezing the flesh, feeling the sturdy muscle beneath. He could feel goose bumps rise across his arms and shoulders, as your touch set off fiery sparks on his skin, as your gaze melted away his cold exterior.

As he glanced down at you, his chest tightened, seeing the way the orange lights warmed up your face, created a warm glow, made you look prettier, enhanced your features. A hint of a shadow danced across your cheekbones from under your lashes, microscopic freckles scattered across like stars in the night sky. Maybe, just maybe, one day the two of you would live in a Republic where he could, where he would, confess his adoration for you. 

But he saw no such thing happening anytime soon.

His thoughts were interrupted as a loud, irritating whistle caught his attention, and you came to a slow halt.

"Whatcha got there, lad? You sellin'?" A scratchy voice had asked, and Rex's eyes narrowed as he noticed a Weequay pirate had made his way over to them, his eyes scanning you up and down, hunger swirling in his thin, cat-like irises. A smirk tugged at his awfully chapped lips, and his right hand was perched on his hip, settling just above his blaster.

A weak gasp left your lips as Rex half-shielded your body from view, and if you hadn't been pushed behind him, maybe your heart would have pumped faster at the sight of his frown.

"Can't you see she's taken, lad?" Rex asked, his voice loud and sturdy as he glared at the man. You didn't have your lightsabers on you, nor could you fight off the pirate whilst undercover.

"Woah woah, calm down my friend, I was merely asking." The pirate stated, a frown appearing on his face as he looked between your seemingly spooked figure and Rex's ready-to-fight stance.

Looking up at Rex, you tugged on his hand, silently pleading to keep moving. Your lightsaber was safely stored away in Rex's backpack, and it meant you couldn't have acted as swiftly as you would of if it had instead been attached to your hip.

With a groan, Rex shoo his head, puffing his chest out like a proud lion. "She is not for sale, she's with me, she's my wife, and you, you better keep your grubby paws and eyes off her." Rex growled out, his chest rumbling with a newfound dominance.

"Or else-"

"Rex.." You whispered, one handlightly tugging his shoulder, "It's okay. Let's keep going." You insisted, snaking your hand along the side of his neck to cup his jaw. His gaze softened at the sight of you, and with a small nod of his head, the two of you moved away, Rex bumping into the pirate's shoulder with more than enough force to knock him to the ground.

The two of you walked in a semi-comfortable silence, not exchanging any words, and you preferred that. If you had to speak now, you were worried you'd stumble over your words and start blushing like a teenager. He was so effortlessly kind, so thoughtful, so sweet. 

What would you do without your favourite Captain? 

Probably sink into the earth or something.

Looking up, a small smile appeared on your lips; the clouds were scattering away under the wind currents, and the twin moons were beginning to peak out from under their cover. A cool, blue light engulfed the two of you, mixing with the war orange glow from the street stands, and your breath was caught in your throat as you looked up to Rex. 

His honey eyes reflected the purple mix, darkening under it as he stared ahead, occasionally glancing at his holopad. There was a familiar crease settled between his brows, crows feet crinkling at the outer corners of his eyes as his expression screamed 'Focused!', his gloved hand warm against the bare skin on your bicep.

His stubble, which he usually kept cleanly shaven, was now beginning to grow back, giving him a more mature, yet tired look. Your fingers itched to just caress his face, to feel those short, spiky hairs against your palm, to make him feel at ease under your touch.

He glanced to the side, his eyes widening as the two of you made instant eye contact, but a soft smirk appeared when he noticed you hurriedly looking away, anywhere but him.

He definitely liked to see you flustered.

After a short while, the two of you came to a stop in front of a small staircase, a few lingering figures smoking, and tall, dark brown doors that led to the inside of the club. 

The figures scoffed at the sight of you, muttering something about being 'rich' or too 'formal', but you paid them no mind as Rex placed his palm on the small of your back, glancing sideways as he ushered you forward.

As the doors opened, your senses were flooded with the smell and feel of thick smoke, choking you from the inside-out more so than the air outside. Loud music pumped through hidden speakers, and a swarm of bodies was tangled up on the dance floor, moving in rhythmic beats, flashing lights and singing making the room feel stuffy, and much smaller than it really was.

There was sweat on the walls, different coloured lights basking the otherwise dark space in all shades of the rainbow. 

Quickly, you took a hold of Rex's bicep, stuttering in your steps as you looked to him for guidance, and the male felt a surge of pride sprouting in his chest, knowing that you trusted him enough to seek protection from him. 

Without a second thought, he lead you to the bar, ordering the two of you drinks strong enough to survive the clamminess of the place.

Then, the two of you found seats at a faraway booth, sitting close enough for your arms to touch. You took an awkward sip of your drink, a horrible bitterness hammering your tongue, a shiver going down your spine as the liquid burned the back of your throat.

"What was this called again, Rex? Beer?" You semi-shouted over the loud music, your lips just inches away from touching his ear.

Without a thought, Rex turned his face to you, towering lightly over you as you leaned against his shoulder. Your eyes widened, a soft gasp parting your lips. His own eyes looked over yours, a smirk on his lips.

"Yeah, it's called beer, mesh'la. Why? D'you not like it?" He asked, nudging his chin to point at the glass. He watched as you chewed on your bottom lip, suppressing the grimace that fought to make its way onto your face. 

He never really saw you be so expressive around anyone else, not even around General Skywalker and General Kenobi. Was he an exception? He had waited to spend one-on-one time with you for so long, always being stuck by Skywalker's side.

A smirk tugged at his lips, and Rex couldn't stop himself from putting an arm around your shoulders, pulling you impossibly closer. The gasp that escaped your lips was luckily covered by the loud booming of the music, and the flush on your face was somewhat masked by the bouncing lights, or so you hoped. 

Rex's breath fanned over the top of your head, his hand tracing circles into your skin, though his eyes remained observant, scanning the room, as he took another sip of his own drink. 

You looked back to your own drink, a scowl forming on your face as you cringed at the thought of having to finish it. But, a plan formed in your mind. The two of you were supposed to be playing a couple in love, right?

Why not.. spice things up a little?

Without a second thought, you turned to Rex.

"If you drink that whole glass in ten seconds, the rest of the drinks will be on me tonight." Your voice was loud, your lungs straining to produce sound over the music, but it seemed to work as Rex thought about your offer, taking a moment to reply.

"And I get to choose?" He asked, his breath fanning over the shell of your ear. 

With an eager nod, you watched Rex sigh defeatedly, reaching over for your glass. 

"But you better be fair, or else." He winked at you, and neared the glass to his lips. His brothers often engaged in games like this, making bets or starting competitions, their favourite being 'How to get Fives drunk the fastest' or 'How to make Fives strip tease for the civvies'. 

He himself never got drunk, only somewhat tipsy, so it would definitely be a new experience for him. 

Drinking with you by his side, without the peering eyes of his brothers or the Republic. Here, it was just him and you.

"On the count of one," You begun, a grin growing on your lips as Rex readied himself, "Three.." His posture straightened up, his gaze daring you, "Two.." His grip on the glass tightened, and you felt yourself swallowing a growing lump, looking up at Rex through a thick curtain of lashes, lips parted, "One!"

With that, you began counting down, swallowing thickly as you watched Rex tilt the glass, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down with every gulp he took. You almost considered speeding up your counting, as in five seconds he was done with half of the glass.

A laugh escaped you as some of the beer began to spill down his chin, rolling in thick beads down his neck. At that point, he won. Your attention was completely focused on his neck, eyes glazing over him eagerly, and you wondered what it would be like to trace the column of his neck, to lick the alcohol off of his neck, would he like that? What would he sound like?

"Done!" Rex's exclamation startled you, the bang of the glass against the table effectively making you jump out of your skin. 

A loud laugh echoed, and as you looked up, Rex was just wiping his lips.

"Now, you owe me a drink," He said, taking a hold of your chin as he cheekily smiled, "Or a couple." He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, and rested back against the booth seat.

With a roll of your eyes, you got up from your seat and made your way towards the bar.

"Five shots of Spotchka for me mesh'la!" He shouted after you, and a laugh escaped your lips. As you ordered the drinks, a giddy smile tugged at your lips. Who would have thought that the two of you could share such a normal, such an ordinary day together? Especially at a bar like this of all places? Not even in your wildest dreams would you have imagined Rex and you playing a couple, clinging onto each other like koalas, or sharing drinks like this.

Never would you have imagined you would get the chance to be close to Rex like this, maybe if one of you were carrying the other off a battlefield, but that's it really.

You were one lucky-

"You alone miss?" Someone spoke lowly into your ear, a foreign hand caressing the small of your back. 

"What the-" You turned around, shaking away from their touch. "Who are you?" You asked, one eyebrow quirked as you looked the man up and down. He was definitely a local, dressed in dark brown trousers and khaki coloured shirt, his face looked worn, wrinkles scattered all over, his beard outgrowing a stubble and his breath reeked of alcohol and cigarrettes.

His eyes though, they were sullen and fighting against his will to stay awake and upright, they showed an exhausted man, a vexed man, a dangerous man. You knew that without your lightsaber you'd be completely and utterly screwed, but maybe you could talk your way out of this?

"I've been looking for some.. fresh meat," He paused, licking his lips as he looked you up and down, expectantly. His breath stank, and you had to fight really hard not to let your disgust show. "You looked a bit lonely, y'know.." He continued, and you felt a shiver run up your spine as he reached a hand to caress your shoulder.

Thinking back to how Rex was probably waiting for you, you felt a sense of comfort; he'd come if you took too long.

"Well actually I-I'm with someone-" You tried to reason, but the man shut you up with a sharp glare and a sloppy shake of his head. 

"No no, sweetheart, I think you misunderstood me," He growled out, voice rumbling in your ears, "You're coming with me." 

His rough hand felt like sand paper to your skin, unlike Rex's gentle, careful fingers that worked their way to yours, held you with so much care. 

His shirt slouched over his bony form, and you could see sweat staining the material. 

"Sir, I would advise you to let go of me or-"

"Or what? What are you gonna do, sweetheart? Scream? Kick?" He taunted, trapping your body between his own and the bar. Why was no one batting an eye at this? Was everyone so horribly drunk? Where was Rex?

You shook your head, pushing at his chest. 

"Just let go of me you creep." You hissed, freeing yourself from his grasps. A scowl overtook his features, a red light shining directly onto his face. What the hell? Why was he so stubborn on taking you away? 

Just as his lips parted, his small frame was roughly shoved to the side, and you paused in your tracks as something soft, something warm crashed against your lips. 

Large hands held your hips in place as his lips melted against yours, pushing against you, body flush against your own. Your eyes snapped open, but closed once more when you realised who it was. 

Your arms snaked around his neck, nails grazing against his scalp as you reciprocated this welcomed feeling. Your breaths mingled together, his tongue poking out to lick at your bottom lip, wordlessly asking for permission.

Granting it, your tongues swirled together, and he hummed in approval as his hips pushed you further into the counter, the wood digging painfully into the skin and bones. His body towered over yours as the two of you kissed, completely lost in each other's warm embrace, completely forgetting about the creep that had now moved away, shaking his head and muttering disgruntled 'Okay I get it's'.

As Rex slowly pulled away, you found yourself chasing his lips, almost whining at the loss of warmth. But a small smile tugged at your lips as you looked into his eyes, noticing how glazed over his irises were, how softly he looked at you, as if you were his precious treasure, his whole world, his universe. 

"You don't know how long I've wanted to do that for, mesh'la." He mumbled as he leaned his forehead against yours, his eyes fluttered close with a content smile on his face.

A soft huff escaped through your nose, and you softly nodded, placing a chaste kiss to his lips.

"Me too, Captain, me too."

The last time you and Rex kissed, it was passionate, it was hopeful, it was precious.

There was a spare hour before you and your squadron were to depart for another search-and-rescue mission, off to a rather politically-influential planet, busy with preparing your ships, guns, provisions, belongings and, most of all, your goodbyes. You were confident that the mission would be a successful one, after all, how hard was it to find a missing princess?

However, the creases etched onto Rex's features had your chest tightening, had you gnawing on the inside of your cheek, had you fiddling with your fingers. That familiar scrunch of his eyebrows, whenever he was anxious, was present, crow's feet dancing at the outer corners of his eyes. 

He kept his hands grasped together behind his back as he paced the hallway outside your room in circles, muttering and mumbling under his nose with hushed breaths.

The apples of his cheeks that were normally so full and chubby, were now sullen and drained of their usual roundness, the familiar bright glint in his starry eyes you loved so much, suddenly replaced by a dark, dusky chill. 

As the door to your room slid open, Rex had lifted his head, golden puppy eyes widened, relief flooding his features. His pacing had come to a slow stop as he peered at you, breathless. 

A sigh escaped your lips, the muscles in your throat tensing, your shoulders stiffening.

"Rex..? What's-" He was quick to interrupt your words, grasping your shoulders in a gentle hold as he pushed you back inside your quarters, the doors shutting behind him with a gentle whizz and thud. 

"Mesh'la.. You can't go." As the words left his lips, your heart squeezed, like a wet rug being drained of water. It twisted and pulled, tugging at the heartstrings until they were ready to burst. Where was this coming from, why was he so worried? It was only going to be a simple mission. The corners of your lips tugged downwards in a frown, suddenly gaining on a new weight to them that hadn't been there before. 

Your hands came up to hold his face, smoothing out the lines that had scattered across. 

"Rex, what's gotten into you? What's wrong?" You asked, your voice merely a hushed whisper as you neared your face to his. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed harshly, nervously. His eyes searched yours, the first hint of tears surfacing. 

His hold against you was tight, yet so full of love and care. One of his hands had slid up to cradle the side of your face, the pad of his thumb gently caressing the soft skin underneath, his warmth radiating onto you like a heavy blanket. His scent, the scent of fresh aftershave and gunpowder, was invading your senses, binding you completely useless under the spell of your lover.

With a shaky exhale, his eyes fluttered closed, crows feet tugging at the corners before he opened them back up, his feelings hidden behind an array of lusciously thick lashes and a steel-hard facade.

"That thing.. What Fives said b-before he- before he died," He paused, his gaze dropping down to the floor, his shoulders stuttering under the shakiness of his breaths, "About the chips. What if it's true?"

At that, your lips merged into a fine line, your hold on his face losening just the slightest. 

"Rex, look at me," You spoke, lifting his chin with the tips of your fingers, soft stubble brushing against the pads, "Do you truly believe in what he said?" You questioned, searching his eyes for something, for a clue. If this worried him so much, then why did he keep it hidden from you until now? Did he hear something he shouldn't have? Did he see something that confirmed what Fives had said?

"I didn't see or hear anything, if that's what you're thinking, mesh'la," His quiet voice just barely reached your ears, the gravelly hum grazing against the shells of your ears, like waves crashing against a sandy shore, and you wouldn't have heard his hushed whisper if you weren't leaning in so close, "But General Skywalker.. he- he hasn't been the same since Ahsoka left the order, he's been more unnerved, more reckless, more irrational and he's putting my squadron, my men, my brothers in danger, kriff, even you!" He exclaimed, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. His stomach twisted and turned, bile readily rising, burning, in his throat as he realised what he had just said. 

If this was anyone but you, he was sure to be court martialed, accused of treason or desserting the army, or conspiring, even. But this wasn't just anyone, this wasn't General Kenobi or Master Windu; this was you. His General, his friend, his comfort, his love.

Surely, you'd understand where he was coming from. 

You had allowed him a short respite, pulling him into your embrace as the tears had begun to spill over. One hand caressing his hair, the other rubbed comforting circles into the tense muscles on his back. He wasn't wearing his armour, for some weird enough reason, though you could inquire about that later. 

For now, Rex's wellbeing was your priority.

Your lips gently brushed against his ear as you spoke, your voice smooth and soft, like velvet, barely rising above a whisper. "Rex, we both know, forming attachments, relationships, is strictly forbidden.. But, has that ever stopped anyone? It certainly hasn't stopped me or you, so it definitely hasn't stopped General Skywalker," You paused, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his sickeningly sweet scent, "Ahsoka was like a daughter to him, Rex, a little sister to you. He's going through the same pain as you, but multiply that by two." You whispered, feeling Rex's silent tears ease into light, stuttering breaths, his gloved hands grasping tightly onto your robes.

The distant hum of active machinery and faraway footsteps filled the silence between the two of you, bouncing off the iron-hard walls, drowning out the sound of your breathing, masking the sound of Rex's gentle, feather-light tears and sobs. 

He had been through far too much in his short life, he had seen too much, heard, experienced more than enough. The numerous, countless deaths of his brothers, each dying on a cursed battlefield, sacrificing their lives dying for a cause that did little to care for them. The disappearance of Echo, the death of Hardcase, the death of Fives. All men who had been by his side for so, so many years. 

And then, General Tano leaving the Jedi order. 

That was the straw that broke the camel's back. 

He could no longer force and tie down that sense of fear, that sense of insecurity which twisted at his heartstrings, constricting painfully each time a new terror occurred. It squeezed at his lungs, suffocating him, dragging him down like a boulder tied to one of the many seas found on Kamino. 

Kamino. 

His.. home?

The longnecks never did care for the Clones, all they were to them was a moneygrab. An expensive one, at that. Who knew when the Republic would run out of money to produce more clones? Who knew when they would get tired of the many fruitless battles they so bravely fought? Who knew?

Those questions plagued Rex's mind like a stalkish nightmare, always there, hiding away in the deepest corners of his mind, creeping in every time he'd let his eyelids flutter closed.

But then, there was a light.

A golden, brightly burning flame, offered by an extended hand. 

It came in the form of your touch. 

Anytime you'd touch his shoulder, graze the soft skin of your palm along his jaw, place feather-light kisses against his nape, Rex could feel the tightness-

No. 

He could feel the fear that clawedat his chest slowly dissipate away. Inch by inch, the feeling of your skin against his, the sound of your voice dripping like honey, the warmth that radiated off of you like the sun, it washed the sticky, oozing black substance away in waves, it purged the darkness that tried to taint his heart and mind, his resolve and his beliefs.

His breathing had slowly come to a still, the trembling that had travelled throughout his body had eventually ceased, allowing the two of you to sit in a comfortable, peaceful silence. 

His fingers caressed the soft material of your shirt, tracing each slight bump of bone within the curve of your spine, his heart swelling with adoration at every soft exhale and chuckle that escaped your chest at his ministrations.

With you hidden away in his arms, away from harm's way, Rex began to feel at peace again. 

But that's just what you did; you put anyone and everyone at ease. You just had that effect. 

He didn't know if it was something to do with your force-sensitivity, or if it was just a personality trait. He wasn't about to complain though.

The tip of his nose gently nudged against the top of your head, slowly, taking note of the change in the scent. The corners of his lips nudged slightly upwards, crows feet tugging at the corners of his tired eyes.

"New shampoo?" He asked, his voice low and raspyed as he continued inhaling your scent.

Underneath him, he felt vibrations, your shoulders shaking as you snickered in his arms, the air escaping your lungs in short, joyful tufts.

"Yeah, I was getting fed up of the one provided by the Republic. It's peach scented, d'you like it?" You had asked, tilting your head upwards to catch a glimpse of his honey-glazed eyes. As he looked at you, he couldn't help the rapid rattling of his heart, warmth flooding his chest at the sight of you.

Your face tilted upwards, hands grasping his biceps, lone tufts of hair framing your face, the smug smile on your face as you looked up at him with those beautiful, glassy irises. It was like you were his own personal sunshine, small enough for him to cradle you within his clutches, tuck you away into his pocket, keep you by his side during combat.

Warm enough to chip away at the foul insecurities and fears that clogged his mind during his every waking moment. 

His gaze flickered to your lips, and Rex sucked in a sharp breath as he noticed you nibbling lightly on your bottom lip, a shadow cast onto your cheekbones through a row of long, luscious lashes. 

Neither of you said a word as Rex's hand cradled the side of your face, closing the short gap between the two of you. You closed your eyes, a joyful huff escaping your chest as his lips collided with yours in a passionate, slow exchange. 

His fingers caressed your skin with such care, with such gentleness, with such love, it made your heart beat faster and your blood burn hot with adoration. They swept down from the top of your cheekbone, along the shell of your ear, and finally found their place on your jawbone, his pinky settling for caressing small, short strokes along your jaw and the top of your neck. His other hand came up to do the same, pulling you closer than was thought to be humanly possible.

His breath fanned over your face, and his scent flooded your nostrils, soft vanilla mixed with his natural musky scent. 

It invaded your senses, engulfing you like a chilly summer afternoon on one of your rare days off, like the warm summer rain that soaked your clothes, tugged at the tips of your hair, like the warm rays of sun that peaked through the windows as you slept, summoning you to wake up, to feel alive, to feel loved.

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips, your tongue brushing against Rex's bottom lip. You felt his shoulders shake under the heaviness of your palms, and it was soon followed by a soft chuckle as his hands tilted your head, angling it to provide him better access to your body, your lips, your soul. 

Your lips melting together, your heart swells with admiration and love for your soldier, and for a moment a fleeting thought wedges itself inside your mind; you and Rex. You and Rex and small children, a tall farmhouse sat behind your figures as the children splash around in a shallow pond, their joyful screams and shouts bringing a smile to your face as you and Rex relax further back, his arm cradling you close to his body.

But that thought is gone as fast as it came, a ghost of your past wishes and longings. But maybe, just maybe once the war ended, the two of you would be able to achieve such a future. Afterall, where there is love, there is hope, and where there is hope, there is life, right?

The two of you are interrupted as your intercom goes off, signaling for your attention. The incessant beeping is loud and repetitive, enough to cause a tension headache in you. 

Slowly, you began to pull away, your eyes fluttering open once more, your lips stinging as the cold air of your room replaced the warm plush of Rex's lips. You swallowed hard, releasing a short breath as you looked up into his golden eyes again, a pained expression settled in them again.

"Rex.. It's time for me to go," You whispered, bringing your hand up to caress his face as the man pulled you close, his fingers fiddling with the material of your shirt. He burried his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent one last time, "I will contact you as soon as we land, or if anything happens, okay?" You asked, nudging his forehead with yours.

As he lifted his head, Rex felt that same fear overcome him again, tearing away at his heart, choking him up in an iron-tight hold.

"You better update me on everything, and I mean everything, do you understand?" He asked, his gaze hardening and his eyebrows furrowing as he maintained steady eye contact, conveying his worry for you. 

With a small nod of your head, you rose from the bed, whispering a soft 'I love you' before you gave him one last kiss, your touch leaving burning trails on his skin as the doors quietly slid shut behind your retreating figure, looking back at Rex one last time, committing the sight of him to your memory, your voice reaching his ears as you answered your intercom. 

His gaze remained on the doors, and Rex heaved a long, deep sigh.

"Get a hold of yourself, Rex, she's gonna be back."

But were you?

𝐎𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐔𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐀 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦

Captain Rex x Reader Every waking moment you had to yourself, you spent on trying to remember. To remember his touch. His voice, his warmth. His face and his eyes. But how could you when after so many years it's become nothing but a blur? And each time you're close, each time your mind drags back pieces of the puzzle together, you're interrupted. Word Count: 1,462 Warnings: Angst A/N: This idea came to me whilst listening to Once Upon A Dream from Sleeping Beauty and I couldn't help myself but vomit words onto screen, I hope whoever reads this enjoys this because I loved the idea TT

The city lights from below twinkled and burned brightly like the stars in the dark sky above. A miniscule smile rested atop your lips, a familiar gleam sparkling in your irises.

The cold autumn breeze flew past you, ruffling your unruly hair into an even more so, larger mess. 

A blue, old scarf a size too big hugged and entangled your shoulders, floating up and down with the cold. Your fingers twiddled with the loose threads, feeling the coarse material between the pads of your fingers. It was a gift from him. The man from your dreams. 

You used to love him. You used to miss him. You used to wait for him.

You used to walk with him,

Once upon a dream.

His hands used to be warm, his gaze so smitten. 

That look in his eyes, was so familiar a dream.

His voice used to be so soft, his touch so tender. 

Those visions of him, you knew they were seldom true.

His embrace endearing, his kisses slow and passionate, as though you were the most delicate flower he had ever the pleasure of finding. 

His love was your hope, like that of a sprouting seedling in a vast desert. His scent was your calm, like the sound of rain pattering against glass. His voice a lullaby to your dreams.

And now all you had left of him was the old, scruffy, pale blue scarf. 

And you loved it as much as you loved him and he loved you.

The faint scent of his cheap cologne still lingered. You had done your best to find the brand, but failed. How hard was it to find the same exact cheap cologne? Very, you had come to realise.  

The Empire destroyed everything. It took him away, it destroyed his memory.

"Y/n?" His voice asked, but it wasn't his voice. This one had a husky timbre to it, as though he hadn't felt anything but the familiar burn of a cigar against his lips in a long time. It wasn't the same.

"Hunter?" Your voice came out soft, quiet as though he had interrupted an intimate moment you were having.

He took a long moment to continue, his gaze sturdy and focused on your figure.

"Someone's here to see you." 

His eyes met yours as you shifted around, a brow raised questioningly. His shoulders stiffened, his breath catching in his throat. He knew what you were about to say.

"Tell them-"

"It's urgent," He interrupted, putting emphasis to his words, swallowing harshly as he felt his throat tighten, "I wouldn't be here if it wasn't," He paused again, this time his gaze dropping to the wet concrete beneath his feet, and suddenly he was all too aware of the loud pattering of the rain against his hair and the concrete, of the rough and short beats of your heart echoing in his ears, "Trust me." His gaze rose back to yours.

With a shake of your head, you pulled the scarf tighter around yourself. This was one of the few bits of time you had to yourself, that you could spend on thinking. Thinking of him. 

Amongst the many missions and bounties, your mind always failed to remember him. The faces of his brothers, the different tones and accents and timbres, they all mixed and matched together until it was all a blur. At first, you were happy to be surrounded by Hunter and the Batch. But now you could barely remember the face of the man from your dreams.

The door creaked shut behind you, the sound of rain muffled by the all-too loud music of the bar below. You hated it. You could never focus with it on.

The heavy scent of alcohol lingered in the air, like a poisonous fog ready to fill your lungs and taint your blood. Your chest felt stuffy every time you were forced to be in the vicinity of the awful stench. 

Hunter's heavy boots thudded against the concrete floor, his head hung low as he kept a fast. steady pace, refusing to give you enough opportunity to question him, enough chance to prod him where you needed to get your answers.

He wouldn't give in so easily even if you tried.

Not tonight.

Though it seemed you hadn't felt the need to ask. 

Not tonight.

Your mind was in a different plane, a different galaxy. A distant past.

The hallway seemed to narrow down the longer you walked, winding around corners and staircase openings like a never-ending labyrinth. You were slowly becoming sick of it. Why was this building so dauntingly tall? 

The walls seemed to be crumbling down and wailing for repair with each crack that extended down hallways, staircases and rooms. Grimaced faces were painted on the sickly orange walls, freshly patched spots grasping to hold the structure together as the building shook with the volume and vibrations of the music.

Hunter hated it too. But he could bare with this for a moment longer. For you.

His throat dried up as the door came into view, and his ears heard the way the pace of your heart picked up as he spoke, "They're behind that door."

His hands fell to his side, smearing the sticky sweat on his armoured thigh, and his steps slowed down, his own heart matching the pace of yours. You must have known by now, right?

"Who is it?" You asked as you came to an abrupt stop, just inches away from the door. You looked up at him, your eyes searching his. The two of you stared into each others eyes, silently communicating through the miniscule, atomic-like movements of your irises.

It wasn't hard to know what you were thinking. Nor what Hunter was.

Who is it? He imagined your voice to be soft, velvety like freshly cleaned cushions, the unsure tenderness of it warming his heart.

Go ahead and find out. You imagined his voice to be gravelly, like waves crashing against a sandy shore, the hum they left behind sending shivers down your spine.

With a soft sigh, you turned away from his towering frame.

Lifting a shaky hand, you turned the knob. 

The door creaked uncomfortably, like the wornout strings of an old violin. 

A gentle, dimmed light flooded the hallway, painting it a sickly shade of yellow. Was this a hotel or a pigsty?

You could almost taste the years worth of dust on the tip of your tongue.

The doorknob felt rough and weak under your touch, the dragged wood pressing against the pads of your fingers. 

With a heavier push, the door managed to pull open, screeching in protest until it came to a final stop. 

Your chest stopped heaving up and down as the air was caught in your throat. 

A sudden lightheadedness hit you, eyelashes blinking rapidly as you tried to get a tighter grasp on the doorknob. For a moment, you scrunched your eyes shut, and fought away the dizziness that clamped around your temple like a pair of metal tongs. 

When your eyes opened again, you felt a pair of arms get a hold your waist. 

Was someone hugging you?

Maybe, you thought and as you slowly looked down, you noticed a pair of armoured arms wrapped around you. Hunter's arms. 

Did you fall?

You couldn't feel your legs. 

As you looked up again, it all dawned on you.

The man from your dreams.

At first, you only saw the faded maroon poncho. It was overly large, and clearly didn't fit. It looked old, tattered as loose threads stuck out at odd angles.

And then you glanced down. White armour clung to his legs, embracing his feet and shins and thighs.

Your gaze wondered up, spotting the helmet seated atop a bed behind him. Blue streaks dancing down the expanse of the white coat of paint. It lingered there, pricking at your heart strings as though wanting them to snap one by one. 

It hurt.

Your chest was burning. 

Your throat tightened, the painful drags of a wail tugging at your voice chords.

The arms around your waist tightened, a familiar head of ashy, chestnut brown hair tickling at your skin.

Where were you again?

Your eyes fluttered, blinking erratically as you fought to look up. Your mind couldn't let you.

You couldn't- 

You couldn't rememeber his face.

A hand flew to your gaping mouth, covering the strangled whimper that erupted from deep within your chest, tearing at your throat as slowly, slowly you allowed your eyes to look up.

It hurt.

Did he always look so familiar? So.. Awfully perfect? So familiarly strange? 

His warm, honey gold irises were locked onto you, wide and unblinking and disbelieving. 

New wrinkles and aged lines dragged at his tanned skin, painting the picture of an abandoned, weary, scarred soldier, an abandoned and forgotten man. 

His hair was still that beautiful blonde, his sun-kissed skin and chapped lips still brought out that awfully familiar, but long forgotten feeling in the pits of your stomach.

It's him. 

It's-

"Rex?"

Just a really really nice Boil fanfic for any 212th and Waxer and Boil lovers out there 😭💕

Double, Double Boil and Trouble - Part 5

A/N: This is part 5 my fic for the @rare-clone-fic-exchange, which I wrote for @goblininawig. The story takes place in a shared continuity with Stars Beyond Number, Martyrs and Kings, and “Do It Again,” but it stands alone and can be read independently of those fics.

Pairing: Clone Trooper Boil x Reader (GN, has hair; reader practices tasseomancy/reads tea leaves) 

Rating: M (mature content intended for readers 18+; minors DNI)

Wordcount: 3.1K

Warnings and tags: mysticism; angst; fluff; mild critique of the Jedi Order (but no Jedi hate); fade-to-black sensuality; implied oral sex; ritualistic drug use; a description of being high on hallucinogens/psychedelics

Obligatory disclaimer: Please don’t use this as a how-to guide for or endorsement of drug use, because 1. it’s inaccurate to the real world, and 2. depending on your location, ThAt WOuld Be ILlEGal. This is a Wendy’s fanfic.

Summary: Boil is willing to do what it takes to get answers about Waxer.

Suggested Listening:

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

“You sure this won’t make me pop positive if I get tested?” Boil asked, eyeing the tin of tea warily.

“Completely. You have two rotations left of shore leave, and this will be out of your system in twenty-four hours.”

You spoke with certainty, and Boil felt some of his doubts ease. He picked up the tin and removed the lid, giving the tea a curious sniff. It didn’t smell like much; just faintly earthy and vegetal. 

“So how does it work?”

“You brew it and drink it, just like regular tea,” you replied. “After a few minutes, you start to feel the effects.”

“And what do the effects feel like?” He set the tea tin down and took a bite of his breakfast.

“Nothing much at first,” you replied. “But when it hits, you’ll know. Everything will look a little clearer and brighter. Food will taste a little better. Everyday things will start to seem really, really interesting. People will be prettier and funnier and smarter.”

“That just sounds like a couple shots of Cheedoan whiskey,” Boil observed.

“Oh, somebody’s fancy,” you teased. “I didn’t realize I was in the presence of royalty.”

He laughed and tossed his crumpled napkin at you, mostly for the fun of seeing you shudder and flick it away with a revolted expression. “The general bought a round for Ghost Company one time.”

“I hope he charged it to the Jedi Order,” you laughed. “Do Jedi get paid?”

“Search me,” he shrugged. “Clones don’t.”

You grimaced. “I know. Kriffing banthashit, is what that is.”

It didn’t change a thing, but Boil still felt a little better knowing you weren’t as complacent as the rest of the galaxy seemed to be about the clone troopers’ situation. 

“So what makes this tea any different from a decent buzz?” he asked.

“That would be the visual hallucinations,” you replied with a cheeky grin.

He eyed you curiously. “I take it you’ve done this before.”

“A few times,” you nodded. “It can be pretty fun. You haven’t lived until you’ve watched the Eye of Aldhani—you know what, never mind.”

He laughed. “What about the ritual part?”

“It’s a little different. The dosage is higher, so the effects are more intense.” You hesitated a moment before adding, “There’s another element to it as well.”

“What’s that?”

“Force sensitivity,” you replied bluntly. “You need to either be able to wield the Force yourself, or have a strong connection with someone who can.”

He nodded, recalling a detail you’d told him months ago. “And your grandmother taught you to wield it? Why didn’t she send you to the Jedi for training?”

“Our world isn’t part of the Republic,” you explained. “The Jedi order has no jurisdiction that far out in Wild Space, and to be frank, we prefer it that way. They mind their own business, and we mind our own.”

Boil pondered your response quietly, noticing the strained expression in your eyes, and he remembered that you tried to stay off the Jedi’s scopes. “You don’t have to tell me if you’d rather not talk about it.”

You gave him a grateful look and replied, “It’s all right. It’s not a secret or anything. It’s just…” You paused and took a deep breath before continuing. “We do things our own way. And when someone is born with the Sight—the Force—we train them in our own way, too. It doesn’t happen often, and there weren’t many elders with the Sight left by the time I was born. Gran took on my training, but I was only fifteen when she passed.”

Boil gazed steadily at you, feeling a deep sense of foreboding. “What happened?”

“I came to Coruscant, hoping the Jedi could help me. I scraped together everything I had in the galaxy to pay for the trip. But when I went to the temple, they said it was too dangerous to train someone who’d been ‘corrupted.’” The word came out harshly, as though it tasted bitter on your tongue. “They sent me away. Said I would be better off knowing nothing of the Force.”

Boil was horrified. “But you were just a kid!”

“Yeah,” you replied grimly. “I grew up pretty fast after that.”

He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t imagine most of the Jedi he’d met ever treating a child with such callousness, but he and his fellow clones knew better than anyone that the Jedi order contained all sorts of beings, ranging from those who were kind and wise like General Kenobi, all the way to monsters like that kriffing traitor, Pong Krell.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last, feeling the inadequacy of his words. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s all right,” you replied. “I’m older and wiser now, and I realize I probably wouldn’t have been the best fit in the Order. And I’ve picked up quite a bit of knowledge since then—especially since I met Tas. There are more paths to the Force than people think.”

The conversation had strayed into territory that was wholly unfamiliar to Boil, so he was relieved when your serious expression faded and the usual glint of humor returned to your eyes. “Lucky for you, I know what I’m doing.”

He smiled, content to let you steer the topic back to the ritual. “So when you say we need a strong connection, how strong are we talkin’?”

“It requires a very high level of trust. We will have to lower our mental defenses enough to allow each other in. When I’ve done it in the past, it was with people I was very close to—people I had known for years.”

“So you don’t do this for every trooper you bewitch?” he asked.

You grinned. “Actually, yes. After tonight, I will have done this for every single trooper I’ve bewitched. One-hundred percent success rate. Hopefully.”

“So what happens if our connection isn’t strong enough?”

Your smile faltered slightly. “Nothing. We’ll have a hell of a trip, and tomorrow we can thank the Force that it wasn’t our money that got wasted on the tea.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” he said. “When should we do it?”

“We’ll need a few hours of uninterrupted privacy, so we’ll want to wait until I get off work tonight,” you replied. “It’ll be about half an hour before you start to feel the effects, and then we’ll begin the ceremony.”

“That sounds ominous,” he laughed. “Is there a blood sacrifice, or is that only on Centaxdays?”

“You know, I’m fresh out of sacrificial victims, so we’ll have to skip it this time.”

Your eyes sparkled, and he inhaled softly, stunned by how beautiful they were when you looked at him with that mischievous expression. Not that he would tell you that, obviously. What was he supposed to say?

You have the sweetest eyes in the galaxy.

I’ve never kissed anyone with such perfect lips.

The last two weeks have been the best of my life.

When I’m with you, I feel like everything is easier.

I don’t want to leave.

Please. He wasn’t a total sap.

“Cutting corners?” he asked instead, a hint of a taunt in his tone. “And here I thought I’d get special boyfriend privileges.”

He watched for your reaction out of the corner of his eye, and he didn’t miss the way you bit your lip to keep from smiling.

“Oh, you get boyfriend privileges,” you replied. “Door keycode, toothbrush, unlimited conservator access, your very own caf mug… And other things.”

He grinned, moving closer and sliding his hand around your waist, easing his fingers inside your ridiculous bathrobe to caress the bare skin of your hip.

“What other things?” he murmured in your ear, nipping the skin of your neck softly.

Kriff, you taste delicious.

“Ten percent discount on readings,” you replied.

“Ten percent?” he whispered, trailing kisses down your neck to your shoulder as he untied the sash of your robe and brushed his fingers lower on your body. “You can do better than that.”

“F—five percent,” you stammered in a gratifyingly breathy voice. “That’ll teach you not to haggle.”

“Mm,” he hummed as he worked his mouth down your torso, dropping slowly to his knees in front of you. “Maybe we could work out a barter system. I’m sure I could provide some services you might find appealing.”

Your only response was a broken whimper as he took you with his mouth, gripping your hips and then sliding his hands back to cup your ass and pull you against his face.

Maker, I could worship you forever. I don’t want to leave.

Boil would rather die than admit he was nervous. For kark’s sake, he faced off against entire divisions of battle droids on a daily basis; how intimidating could a cup of tea possibly be? Besides, you seemed perfectly comfortable as you brewed the tea and lit a stick of incense, and there was no way he’d let you see him blink. He was a soldier of the Republic, and he wasn’t afraid of anything.

Still, some of his definitely-not-nervousness must have shown on his face, because you gave his arm an encouraging little touch as you walked past him into the living area. He watched as you pulled all the throw pillows off the sofa and your bed and piled them on the floor to make a soft, chaotic nest, and then you dimmed the lights. Your flat had already taken on a strange, mystical air, and he hadn’t even tasted a sip of the tea yet.

He watched curiously as you placed colorful stones in all the windowsills and doorways of your flat.

“What are those for?” he asked.

“Just making sure the only spirits that show up are the ones we want,” you replied with a lopsided grin, but the look in your eyes made him think you were deadly serious. “Nothing to worry about.”

He blinked. So I guess that’s definitely something to worry about.

“I’m not gonna get haunted by this, am I?” he asked, aiming for a casual tone and not quite nailing it.

“Definitely not!” you replied, before adding under your breath, “... probably.”

“Probably?”

“I’m ninety percent sure,” you reassured him. “Eighty-three percent sure.”

“Are you kriffing with me, or are you serious?” he demanded.

You laughed. “I’m kriffing with you. You definitely, probably won’t get haunted, and even if you do, Tas has a banishing spell that’ll get rid of anything.”

“You know you’re not exactly inspiring confidence, right?”

Your only response was a playful smile that made him want to kiss you until you forgot your own name, so he did. He caught you by the hand and hauled you into his arms, threading his fingers through your hair as he kissed you again and again.

“Could you be serious for ten seconds?” he murmured between kisses. 

“No promises.” You flicked your tongue against the corner of his lips, and he nearly called off the entire operation and tossed you onto the bed on the spot.

With a rather impressive display of self control—if he did say so himself—he pulled away slightly and asked, “Are the walls of the Venator going to start weeping blood if I do this?”

“Oh, almost certainly not,” you replied. “Maybe just a droplet or two on the refresher mirrors…”

He stared into your eyes for a moment, then let out a reluctant laugh, dropping his forehead to rest against your shoulder. You wrapped your hand around the back of his head and pressed your lips against his temple.

“We don’t have to do any of this if you don’t want to,” you said quietly.

His arms tightened around you as he inhaled deeply, trying to memorize your exact scent. “No. I want to know. I need to know.”

You held him silently for a moment, and then you nodded. “If you’re sure, then everything is ready.”

“I’m sure,” he said, pulling back just far enough to look into your eyes. “Let’s do this.”

“Okay.” You held him tightly for another moment, then broke away to retrieve the two mugs of tea from the kitchen. You passed one to him, then tapped your own against it. “Bottoms up, Buttercup.”

Boil was expecting the concoction to taste awful: bitter and sinister, maybe with a hint of brimstone. In reality, it was actually pretty good. It was smooth, a little spicy, and sweetened with honey, and he drained the cup without complaint. He waited expectantly, but nothing happened.

“Now what?” he asked.

“Now we watch an episode of It’s Always Sunny on Abafar and wait for it to kick in,” you replied, glancing down into the mug to quickly scan the leaves the way he’d noticed you do every time you finished a cup of tea.

Whatever you saw must not have been too terrible, given that you didn’t immediately cancel the evening’s activities. He shrugged and moved to the sofa, pulling you down with him as you turned on the holoscreen. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to the luxury of being able to watch whatever he wanted, any time he pleased. Not to mention that your sofa, shabby as it was, was quite possibly the most comfortable piece of furniture in the galaxy—particularly with your head resting on his shoulder and your body tucked in close to his own as he curled around you. 

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” you warned, nudging him with your elbow. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he lied.

The episode failed to hold his attention, and his mind and hands began to wander. He traced his fingertips over your shoulder and down your bare arm, around your wrist and back up again, enjoying the smooth warmth of your skin. He’d never touched shimmersilk in his life, but he would have bet a month of rations that your skin was softer. Eventually, he draped his arm around your waist and began to play with the hem of your shirt, tugging it up to expose your abdomen.

“Don’t even think about it,” you said, resting your hand over his. “There’s no way in hell I’m going there on your first trip.”

“Even if I want to?” he murmured, kissing the back of your neck.

“Nope. Besides, we’re not just doing this for fun, remember?” You rolled over to face him.

“Fine. Maybe next time.” He rested his forehead against yours, stroking your cheek softly as he gazed into your eyes. “Your pupils are huge.”

You snorted a laugh. “Seems like the tea is working. Shall we get started?”

He nodded. “What do we do?”

“I have bad news,” you said gravely. “We’re going to have to break the cuddle.”

“Not the cuddle!” he gasped in horror.

“I’m afraid so.”

He grumbled, but begrudgingly disentangled his limbs from yours. As he sat up, the room seemed to sway slightly, almost as if the entire building were floating in water. He didn’t want to alarm you, so he didn’t mention that the pattern on your wallpaper was definitely, absolutely, one-hundred percent coming to life. The designs gyrated and churned in a nauseating swirl, and he tore his eyes away from it, determined not to abort the mission for a reason as pitiful as tea-induced motion sickness.

He followed you silently to the nest of cushions you’d arranged on the floor, sitting opposite you with his legs crisscrossed. You scooted forward until your knees touched his, and you took his hands, holding them in a loose grip. He stroked his thumb over your palm, and the smile you gave him in return made him forget all about the wallpaper.

“Close your eyes,” you said softly, “and take a slow breath, all the way down to the bottom of your lungs.”

He did as you said, and as he exhaled gradually, he felt his stomach settle and the tension drain out of his shoulders. The pair of you repeated the exercise a few times, and then you asked him to focus on keeping his breath smooth and even. He was starting to feel incredibly relaxed and drowsy, and only his promise not to fall asleep kept him from drifting off.

“Think of somewhere you felt safe and happy,” you said in a low voice. “Picture it in your mind.”

Here. With you. 

“Do you see it?” you asked.

“Yes,” he whispered, envisioning your cozy, colorful little flat as clearly as though he had opened his eyes. 

He was alone in his mental version of the flat, and he took a moment to look around. It was tidier in his mind, with the nest of cushions all put back where they belonged, and no telltale pastry crumbs on the kitchen counter. But aside from that, it was the same, filled with signs of you—the eclectic jumble of teacups on your kitchen shelf; the colorful array of robes hanging on hooks on the wall; the vibrant collection of thrifted art hanging on the walls. It even smelled like your scent. The only thing missing was—

Knock knock.

He turned toward the door in his mind, and then he was standing in front of it without ever having moved his feet. He leaned in to look through the peephole—wait, your door has a holoscreen. The image in his mind warped, and suddenly the holoscreen appeared. You stood outside in the hallway, waiting.

“Will you let me in?” you asked quietly.

Your lips didn’t move in the vision of you he saw within his mind, and he realized you’d spoken the words aloud.

“Yes,” he replied, opening the door.

As you stepped inside, your gaze flicked around the flat, and your breath caught. Too late, Boil realized he’d revealed far more than he intended. He swallowed nervously, bracing himself for your mockery now that you had witnessed the true depth of his feelings for you. 

When you looked at him, though, there was no trace of ridicule in your eyes. You stepped closer and took his hand in yours, and as you did, he felt the soft pressure of a gentle, reassuring squeeze on his physical hands. To his relief, that was the only acknowledgment, though he had a feeling the two of you would be having a long conversation once the effects of the tea had worn off.

“Are you ready?” you asked, and somehow, he knew you’d asked the question directly to his mind.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he replied without speaking.

You smiled. “In that case, I’d like you to meet someone.”

Your gaze shifted to a point over his shoulder, and he turned slowly. A stranger stood behind him, ancient and wrinkled, with eyes that somehow seemed very familiar and very, very kind. A faint blue glow emanated from her, and though she seemed solid enough, Boil had the distinct feeling that if he were to open his eyes, he’d see nothing but you, sitting across from him in a nest of cushions.

“Is this the boy you told me about?” she asked, inspecting him closely.

“Yes,” you replied. “Gran, I’d like you to meet Boil.”

Hey :) hope you are doing ok.

I was wondering if there is gonna be a pt2 of The Safe house story ??? I just wanna say that I totally loved it and hope you will continue🥰

Have a nice day 😘

The safe house 🤍 (Pt. 2) (Captain Wilco x reader)

-----

TW/WARNINGS: having a gun pointed at you, concussions and being dazed, having to remove peices of armor from an unconscious person, blaster marks, mention of wounds, collapsing, fainting, having to care for a grown person, dead relatives, broken arms

A/N: Tysm! I'm so glad you liked it! And yes, there's going to be more than a few parts, they'll just come out very slowly 😭

@littlenephilim999uriel

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.

.

.

Grumbling, you crouched down, setting down your new companion gently against a tree, breathing hard.

You had taken to slinging his arm around your shoulders and moving him that way, though his legs still dragged behind and your back was screaming with the effort of not collapsing under his weight. He had to be at least a foot and some change taller than you, making it even more difficult not to get his legs caught on things along the way.

The most nerve wracking part, though, was making sure he was still breathing normally and not slipping into some sort of coma.

You kneeled next to him, patting his chest plate and eventually his cheek insistantly to try to get him to open his eyes. Luckily, it worked, as it had the other three times, though he was just as out of it.

"9980…What?" He mumbled, blinking slowly.

You breathed a sigh of relief, he had been mumbling a series of numbers (who you guessed were, sadly, his brothers) and nonsense every time you had woken him up, but at least he was waking up.

"Okay, thank you, dear. You can go back to sleep now."

He hummed, closing his eyes again and resuming his light breathing.

You grunted, taking his arm around you again and pushing both of you to your feet once more.

After a few more hours of this, you finally reached the discreet, familiar path that led down to the safe house. You nearly sobbed with relief, your back and legs clearly sharing the sentiment.

You sped up, the decline allowing you some ease with your precious cargo. When you finally reached the door, you typed in the short code quickly, thanking the maker that you had memorized it as young as age five.

The door swooshed open, near good as new, and you almost dropped him in preemptive relief as soon as you passed the threshold. Instead, you continued to drag him, tapping along the hardwood floor with your foot until you found the hollow sound you seeked.

Finally you kneeled, still supporting his weight, and pressed firmly on the spot. You laughed lightly as the hatch rose slowly, always in awe of your grandfather's workmanship and his ability to bring older practices into the modern day so efficiently.

You poked your head into the space below. It smelled like dust more than anything, but you could make out faint traces of the incense he used to burn to flush out the smell of the game he would prepare in his workspace. Feeling along the wall, you found the switch, bathing the room in a soft orange glow.

You huffed, beginning a careful descent of the wooden steps that led into the space, yelping when you accidentally smacked his armored shoulder against the hatchframe.

After a few minutes of struggling, you finally got him down onto one of the three cots that lay collecting dust in the small room attached to the main living quarters.

"Oh, thank the maker-" You wheezed, bracing your hands on your aching back. You were so eager to just get everything in the storage rack unpacked so you would have food and medicine to actually live off of, nearly out the door to go do all of that before you passed out beside him, but you stopped.

One more time, just to be safe.

You beat the dust out of the cot beside him, moving him over. His breathing was still even, which you thought was a good sign as you leaned over him, trying not to invade his space more than you needed to to check on him.

You patted him quickly, "You still there, uh- sir?"

His eyes opened slowly once more, squinting as they adjusted to the lamp light.

You smiled down at him, brushing his hair back, "Good."

Slowly, your eyes came to rest upon his armor; you had to remove it, didn't you?

Would that be crossing a line? Maybe, but you would have to to inspect the blaster mark that marred his chest plate and to get a splint on that broken arm. It was necessary, even if it would probably be uncomfortable for both of you.

Carefully, you decided to start on his bad arm. He groaned as you undid his shoulder plate, making you wince.

"I know, I know- I'm sorry." You nodded, moving to his Rerebrace.

By the time you got to his gauntlet plate, you felt eyes on you.

You looked up and right into his dilated, honey irises.

"Oh, hello." You managed to laugh lightly, genuinely surprised that he had enough energy to stay awake for more than a few seconds.

He continued to stare, and you eventually went back to sliding off the last piece of that arms plating, placing it on the pile at your feet.

Setting his arm down as gingerly as you could, you went about unclipping his chest plate, placing the pieces on the floor and checking for damage to the chest of his black body glove that lay underneath. There didn't seem to be any blood or even a burn mark on it, thank the maker, it must have been a glancing shot.

Satisfied with your inspection, you got up, going to look for one of your grandfather's old medical journals to find how one actually went about making a splint. Or, you were, until he grabbed a hold of your wrist with his good hand.

You turned, confused as he squinted up at you for several moments.

Finally, he cracked a slight grin, letting out a flirty, slightly slurred, "Heyyy~"

You both stood like that for a second, staring at each other, until you snorted softly, detaching his hand with little effort, "Hey."

-

When you finally returned, armed with your new knowledge, a first aid kit, and a cool cloth, he was passed out again, snoring lightly now.

You placed it over his forehead, smiling when his pinched expression softened at the sensation.

Moving an old wooden chair to the side of the bed where his bad arm rested. It was a task to move it from his stomach in a way that minimized his wincing, but you managed, wrapping the area with the most swelling in a gauze bandage firmly.

Placing the splint along his forearm, you fastened it with straps of old fabric as tightly as you could without hurting him, avoiding the wound itself, and at last, you placed the arm carefully in a sling. You were shaking with nerves by the time you were finished, too nervous that you might've messed something up, but he didn't seem to be going into shock so you were most likely good.

Rising from your spot once more, you left the room, sending him one last look in the doorway before turning the corner to begin unfreezing a few portions for a decent supper for the two of you.

You were only a few minutes into beginning the cooking process on your small stove when you heard a bang from the other room, making you jump.

Getting up quickly, you rushed down the hall to make sure your new companion hadn't hurt himself by rolling off his cot or something, but when you arrived in the doorway again, you could only really stare in shock.

The man had somehow managed to get to his feet, albeit not steadily, shaking and swaying in a way that had you walking slowly and carefully over to him, nervous of startling him but terrified he would collapse and hit his head/arm.

Unfortunately for you, he was still awake enough to draw one of his blasters quickly when you did startle him, pointing them directly at you.

I really should have thought to take those off of him, you thought.

But you had been so concerned with getting him safely to the house that you had completely forgotten about the weapons, even though that's what you had approached him for in the first place.

The only thing you could do was stare like a dugar dugar in headlights as he trained them shakily on you.

Your eyes trailed from the barrels of his blaster to make contact with his, pleading in a way you hoped would show that you weren't a threat.

His eyes widened as they locked with yours and, slowly, he lowered his weapon, letting his arm fall limply to his side.

You let out a sigh of relief, not breaking eye contact as he stared at you, seeming almost in a dazed sort of awe. Though, your relief was cut short as he stumbled, falling to his knees as his eyes closed once more. You scrambled to his side, allowing him to collapse into you and sighing as his head came to rest on your shoulder, now breathing lightly again.

It wasn't a huge operation hauling him back up onto the bed, but you were still shaking from having a blaster aimed at you. You frowned down at his sleeping form, exasperated as you took the guns from his hand and holster.

This was going to be one long and wild ride, wasn't it?

Screw canon, I say everyone's alive. Even tho this is gonna be a fix-it is gonna be angsty as hell. I hope. No idea where in the sw or clone wars timeline this will be but let's just role with it.

--

The General was gone. Considering how often that happened Rex really shouldn't be surprised.

The Separatist base they were ment to be infiltrating was located on an under water planet in the Outer-Rim. The crashing waves, constant wind, rain and general misery would have been nostalgic, nice even, if not for the many terrible memories of Kamino cropping up all over the place.

All in all, not pleasant.

The team was small, with all the usual suspects. In the distance Rex could hear the sound of bombs, droid poppers and manic laughter. At least someone was doing their jobs.

Slowly making his way down through the base, Rex could feel the air growing thick as the air pressure droped. Although the base looked nothing like Kamino Rex couldn't help but think of the cold, soulless hallways and rooms.

All around droids and scientists were fleeing to the upper levels. Rex was surprised that the whole base wasn't flooded or blown up considering all the damage that his brothers had done.

Rounding a corner, Rex threw his hands out infront of him to catch himself. Try as he might his head still hit the floor.

Looking up with a groan and a quickly escalating headache, Rex turned his head to find out what made him go head over ass.

Rex's heart jump then plummet down to his toes, air getting stuck in his throat. Lying on the floor was the Generals lightsaber. Crawling to his knees, hands shaking, Rex carefully, as though it was make of the most precious porcelain, picked up the weapon and clutched it to his chest.

Where his hands were holding the saber against his heart Rex could feel them both, his heart and the lightsaber, jumping and stuttering. Something was wrong. So, so wrong. Turning the saber over, he noticed blood stained the well worn hilt, turning the silver a shining crimson.

Sucking in as deep a breathes as he could manage, he gets to his feet, holding himself up with the wall. He couldn't tell if the shaking in his knees was from the fall or the blood on the damn lightsaber.

Kriffing sithspit. He thought, checking to make sure the coast is clear. Clipping the lightsaber to his belt and unfastening his guns from their holsters, Rex continued his descent through the base.