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no-droids · 4 years

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Rumors, Freebies, and a Race for Last Place

Part Two of The Bet series

Pairing: Poe Dameron/Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 22.5K DONT say shit alright just don’t

Warnings: Okay. There is degradation in this, some name calling and heated interactions. There is a LOT of smut, dirty talk and rough sex. If these things offend you, please do not continue reading.

***

It’s recommended to read part one first.

***

Getting into the x-wings is always fun.

It actually might be your favorite part. Granted, alarm bells ringing and thousands of jumpsuits scrambling in all directions is never typically a good thing, but there’s also an inherent rush about it, a thrill in launching up the metal paneling as quick as you can and suiting up to provide aid. It’s a side-effect of camaraderie, of being surrounded by like-minded individuals willing to do everything they can to help. You never feel like you’re going to your death, even though that’s often the grim reality for at least one of you on a good day. There’s always a roaring in your ears while you do it, adrenaline sharpening your senses and preparing yourself for conflict, not thinking anything beyond gogogogogo—

But getting out of the x-wing is… not great. At least for you. It’s sluggish. Your body is always completely drained and you never come out of it feeling the same way you went in. Even in times of victory, there’s a somberness inside you after battle. As much as you tell yourself you’re fighting for good, for prosperity against an evil machine hellbent on enslaving the galaxy, there’s only so many explosions lighting up in front of your eyes and screams cutting out through your comms you can take before winning just doesn’t really feel like winning anymore. Most pilots are able to handle it better than you are, but since you joined the Resistance, you’ve never truly felt the desire to celebrate. Not even when you serve a massive, glaring defeat to the other side. There’ll always be at least one missing x-wing, one empty seat at the table, one person not here to celebrate with you.

You came back in one piece this time. Barely.

The whole mission went sideways—literally. You’d purposefully stationed the tandem just outside the coordinates you were meant to be surveilling so that you’d be hidden from sight and dead to the scanners should the fleet arrive, but something must’ve happened. You must’ve powered down a few seconds too early after he turned the thrusters off, because apparently the ship drifted in dead space for close to eight hours without either of you noticing, having no working computers to actively read your location and correct it. You were sitting ducks right in the hyperspace drop zone by the time the First Order showed up, and by that point you had no choice but to engage.

“Gold-Ten,” a voice murmurs from behind you, and you blink, suddenly seeing the base landing platform stretching out long in front of you, hundreds of docking ships and boisterous pilots scrambling out of them to hug their comrades and congratulate them even as medics rush past with white coats and gurneys. They’re never for the pilots, but they dispatch healers anyways whenever a convoy returns in case a straggler gets picked up. There’s an unspoken understanding in space battle—pilots never get injured. They either come back unharmed, or they don’t come back at all.

Dameron.

You turn around and watch him slowly approach you with an unreadable expression, his jumpsuit still bunched halfway down his torso. The once bright white sleeveless undershirt is now greasy and damp with sweat, his dark curls sticking to his forehead. He winces with every bow-legged step—you know the feeling—before he’s standing directly in front of you and something is carefully being pulled out of your hands. You didn’t even realize you were holding onto anything.

Your helmet. You forgot to leave it in the x-wing, and you’ve been carrying it around under your arm aimlessly while mentally checking off the squadrons as they return, counting the numbers you lost today while everybody else hugs and whoops and claps each other on the back.

It’s not as bad as you were expecting it was going to be, not as bad as it seemed just an hour earlier when you were listening to Dameron bellow out evasive flight maneuvers a millisecond before he enacted them and you adjusted your firing at the TIEs accordingly. You used to think you were quick with how rapidly you could suit up and fly out, drop in to assist and engage, but on the other side, it felt like your reinforcements lollygagged for ages before arriving. You were left to defend against an entire fleet in one stupid ship, more lines of TIEs sinking like flies from launch decks every second.

“Gold-Ten,” you hear again, and you blink a few times, needing to focus your vision before you can find his gaze.

Dameron’s palm, previously hovering a few inches above your shoulder, suddenly drops to spread along the curve of it and you take a deep breath, almost wanting to shudder at the feeling of something touching you. You channel all your focus into it, feel his fingers branch out strong along the tight muscles in your neck, giving you an anchor you automatically lean into.

You and him are no strangers to touching. Before today it was mostly reserved to poking and prodding and flicking and light slapping in an effort to piss each other off, but now… you can’t even think about it right now, your body will just fucking glitch out on you. After everything that just happened, you cannot think about where else that hand has been recently, not right now.

“You did… you did really fucking good today,” he tells you quietly, slowly trailing his hand down the length of your entire arm until he catches your wrist and a few of your fingers in his loose grip. “Seriously. That was… we were…”

His touch is so present, so reassuring. Grounding, when all your mind wants is to just float away. You glance down at where his fingers are gently tangled with yours and you feel your hand tighten just slightly, the smallest squeeze while he blinks down at you.

“We almost died, like… every single second,” you barely manage to croak, not really having the words to express it right now. You always need at least an hour or two after missions like this to just sit in one place and regroup. Usually you find yourself wandering back to your room to lay on the bed and stare up at the ceiling while you consider your own mortality, but Dameron interrupted you this time before you could process it by yourself. “We…” Your voice sounds absolutely shredded. “W-We shouldn’t even be alive right now.”

“I know,” he nods in soft agreement, taking a small step closer to you. “But we are alive. Hey.” He dips his head as soon as your gaze starts to drift, catching your eyes once more and drawing your attention back to the present with a squeeze of your hand. “We’re alive, right? Be alive with me.”

You take a big breath in and close your eyes, feeling the oxygen fill your lungs once more, but this time, it’s… restorative. A wonderful, beautiful reminder of your existence. You’re alive. Usually the word just feels like a synonym for persevering. Pushing onwards despite trials and tribulations, not looking back. But the way he says it, especially with his hand in yours and a quiet invitation to tag along, it sounds… breathtaking. Full of light, and hope. It suddenly leaves the dim shadows and slides into a completely different category of feelings, feelings you’d never imagine being able to conjure so quickly after such a close brush with death. Alive—it slots right in next to words like colorful, radiant, sunshine, and butterflies. Enchanting words, ones you’d like to hear again and again.

Your eyes slowly open and there he is, the man you were sure was going to accompany you to the afterlife. You were stuck with Poe Dameron in one of the closest calls you can remember, and strangely, his presence was nothing if not… a comfort. For the first time in your life, you were grateful he was there.

You open your mouth, suddenly feeling the needy, unfounded urge to tell him that. “I’m gla—”

“Dameron!” You hear a series of voices call from somewhere to your left, and he immediately drops your hand to whip his body around and place himself directly between you and the approaching onlookers, using his large frame to hide you from their sight.

“What’s up, Briggs?” Dameron projects to one pilot in particular that seems to be leading the group, his back oddly close to you in this position. Your fingers still feel tingly from where he was holding onto them.

A chorus of congratulatory, “Nice flying, Captain!” and the like can be heard floating through the air from beyond his shoulders, before the leader speaks loudly over them. “Hey—me, Seven, Six, and Twelve were gonna grab some drinks in the mess hall with a few of the Blue girls,” he tells Dameron, slowing to a stop as soon as he sees you standing awkwardly behind him. “Oh hey, Goldie.”

You lift a hand and clear the remainder of the dissociation from your throat, not knowing him well enough beyond the squadron he and his group fly with. “Greenies.”

“Anyways, I guess they wanted to know if you’d come too. These idiots are convinced they’re never gonna give us the time of day unless you—”

“Uh—fine, whatever, just give me a few minutes alright?” Dameron quickly assures him with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’ll meet up with you guys later.”

A few of them take turns giving him heavy claps on the shoulder and acclamatory words before the group eventually disperses, and he waits a few more seconds for their attention to fully scatter in another direction before turning back to you.

Shit, he’s standing really close. Why is he so close to you? You take a step back and blink up at him, the noises of the landing deck gradually amplifying back up to normal volume as you retreat back into your own space. Since when did he have that effect on you? You suddenly feel wide awake, and the chorus of happy chaos surrounding you is something you’re finally able to take in. You knew it was happening before, but it was like it just existed outside of the creeping numbness. Now, the knot of internal turmoil has untied itself a bit and you feel your surroundings start to fight for your direct attention.

Dameron continues to look at you the same exact way, though. Like you’re still the only one here.

You look down at his half-suited figure and blink at the helmet loosely held in one of his hands. Hey. Hey, that’s yours—

“Give me that,” you hiss, suddenly snatching it from his fingertips. “You have people waiting.”

The cutting words serve to snap him out of whatever spell he’s under. Dameron quickly lifts his head and looks around a few times with sharp eyes, before hooking your elbow and twisting you into a complete 180 until your back faces most of the excitement. You resist, immediately trying to push him off you and worried he’s going to confront you about… things, but he’s determined.

He doesn’t say anything to you at all, though. His fingers quickly grasp the baggy fabric of your jumpsuit even as you sputter and start to ask what the fuck he thinks he’s doing, and you glance down just in time to see him yanking the gaping velcro closed at your crotch.

Your cheeks instantly start burning as he tugs and smooths the fabric down until it’s seamless once more, especially when his eyes flick up to yours without moving his head. Fuck, you’re instantly hot with some wicked emotion, a mixture of embarrassment and outrage and… something else. Maker, you almost wish you were numb and disoriented again, if only so you could avoid feeling whatever the fuck this is.

You quite suddenly shove your helmet back into his stomach with an infuriated sound even as he doubles over with a shocked whoosh of air, changing your mind about returning it to the ship yourself before storming off without another word.

***

Okay, so you’ve done some thinking, and. Well. Fuck him, that’s what you’ve decided.

No—not… fuck him. But like, fuck him. You know. In the negative sense of the word. The bad fuck.

There’s a full tray of food sitting in front of you but you’ve so far been unable to touch it. Mostly you’re just wondering why the fuck you’re even here. Well, you know why you’re here—you should eat, it’s dinnertime and this is the mess hall. You’ve been known to skip out on meals after heavy missions, secluding yourself away and just wallowing for a bit, but you… strangely didn’t feel like doing that today. You don’t want to self-isolate when you feel okay enough to avoid it, not again. So you’re here, because the clock says your tummy should want food, but you can’t bring yourself to even look at it.

No, you’re looking at him. Glaring, actually.

Across the mess hall and beyond the transparisteel divider that separates the cafeteria from the bar area, Dameron is all eyebrows and smiles and side nudges and winks right now. You can’t hear him—the sound won’t travel this far, but you can see him situated in the middle of a rowdy group of pilots. He laughs in that disgustingly charming way of his, where his stupidly cute nose scrunches up all cute and stupid and you want to just ask the Maker why he’s doing this shit to you. What have you done to deserve this torture? Sure, you may have willingly agreed to it, even… conceived and propositioned the idea, and sure, absolutely nothing is stopping you from forfeiting and walking away at this exact second, but does that make it okay? No, you’ve decided. It’s not okay. He’s not allowed to… to make you feel like this, so fuck him. In the bad way.

“Just fuck him already,” a voice suddenly grumbles as someone plops down into the seat to your right, plastic trays of food clattering loudly on the table and snapping you out of your reverie. Gold-Sixteen blocks your view as he silently drops into the seat in front of you and wraps his green lekku around his neck a few times before immediately beginning to shovel food into his mouth, while Gold-Three opens her box of blue milk next to you and continues. “The Blues never fucking shut up about it, it’s getting annoying.”

“Don’t listen to her, Dime,” Gold-Eleven tells you, quickly occupying the seat on your left and biting into a crunchy piece of fruit, talking loudly over the chatter even as he chomps. “Rossi just knows her pool is up tomorrow, she doesn’t want to lose any of her precious credits.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Gold-Three immediately snaps, leaning forward and around you to point the prongs of her fork at Eleven threateningly. “Zhang’s pool starts on Sunday.”

“Oh fuck off, you guys are betting on this now?” You groan, shoving your plate away with a flick of your fingers now that you’re certain you’ve completely lost your appetite. Sixteen immediately snatches up one of your bread rolls while Zhang swipes your juice and Rossi goes for a packet of glockaw sauce.

“You’re the one who announced it in front of everybody, we’re just being active spectators,” Rossi returns, ripping the packet and pouring the sauce on her vegetables with a shrug. “How the fuck do you bet against fucking each other though, that’s my question? It’s a paradox, wouldn’t you both just lose at the same time?”

“Dameron and I aren’t going to fuck,” you tell her very slowly and clearly, starting to get a headache. Why is it impossible to avoid this conversation topic, even with an entire Resistance base to roam around in? “Ever. The bet never had anything to do with fucking each other, it’s about not fucking other people.”

“Literally what is the difference?” You hear Rossi ask with her mouth full, but Zhang speaks over her.

“Somebody should probably tell Nine that, she’s the bookie,” he tosses out carelessly, dropping the core of his piece of fruit to his tray before wiping his hands on his jumpsuit. You bury your face in your hands and let out a loud, exhausted sound into your palms, not knowing which response serves to aggravate your already emotionally overloaded ass even more. Nine is the bookie, of fucking course she is. “But hey, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t think any of it actually goes outside of Gold, so.”

“I’ve heard the Blues talking about it, but that’s it,” Rossi chimes in while chewing some of her veggies. “Maybe some Reds. Point is everybody else thinks it’s already happening, honestly.”

“What the fuck,” you whisper, using your knuckles to rub at the backs of your eyes until bright spots appear. Where are stress headaches localized? Are those the ones right under your brow bone? Because stars, you feel it. “Fucking… why? Why do people think that me and Dameron are…?”

Nobody at the table immediately responds, and you drop your hands after a moment to look at each of their astounded faces in turn.

“You fucking serious, bitch?” Rossi blurts first, her voice completely deadpan, and you growl in vexation.

“Have I not been vocal enough about my severe dislik—”

“And yet you kicked Nine out of your room to let him bunk with you,” Zhang immediately suggests.

“You request mission assignments together,” Rossi adds.

“Spend your off-days together,” Zhang continues.

“You’re both really weird about how long it takes the other person to shower,” Rossi tacks onto the list Zhang is now making on his fingers and you shake your head frantically.

“No—no, that’s so that we know neither one of us is cheating,” you try to explain, and you already know it sounds unconvincing without needing the two quick, lofty and sarcastic nods on either side of you. “Showers and off-days are prime masturb—no, you know what? No. I’m tired of the assumptions, I don’t owe anyone shit. This is super fucking uncool of you guys, you know that? It’s insane that this is what counts as gossip in the Resistance nowada—”

“There’s only so much bad news people can take, Ten,” Gold-Sixteen grunts down at his almost finished plate, and all three of you snap your gazes across the table at him. The forest-tinted twi’lek doesn’t speak much, it’s uncommon to hear his voice without distortion over the comms, but you blink as his sharp teeth continue to form words without looking at you. “Quit being so sensitive. Rather bet on this shit than which system is getting demolished next.”

And with that, Sixteen excuses himself with a silent nod, having gobbled down his full plate while you, Three, and Eleven were bickering. You feel your cheeks flare with anger and shame—you didn’t deserve that, you immediately reassure yourself, but the hidden self-doubt the comment sows just further contributes to your upset. You want to call out to his back that just because the First Order exists doesn’t mean you have to put up with your own fucking squadron turning you and your mortal enemy into glorified race fathiers, but he’s already leaving the mess hall while Rossi and Zhang have moved on to other topics, both of them continuing to grab more food from your tray as they talk.

You have a tough shell. But today was… a lot. You bite your lip down at the table against the sudden wave of emotion, blinking quickly to clear the weakness watering your vision.

See, this—this right here is why you use last names. These people aren’t your friends. Betting on who you fuck for laughs, using you as a source of entertainment without your consent just because they’re in the middle of a war, and then guilting you into feeling like you’re the one acting like a stuck up bitch about it? You’re fighting in the same fucking war—you’re on the front lines just like everybody else and nobody gets to lecture you on the devastation of battle. You almost died today. You fought tooth and fucking nail to stay alive and by all accounts, you shouldn’t even be sitting here right now, much less dealing with this childish shit. This is your squadron. These people are supposed to be the ones closest to you out of everyone, the ones you’ve been flying into chaos in formation with for years, and yet not a single damn person has even mentioned your performance to you today, all anyone can ever seem to talk about is—ugh.

Unfortunately, your unobstructed view also allows you to look at the source of your bad mood once more, immediately noticing the way more people have crowded around him now, and the headache continues to throb painfully behind your eyeballs. You were in the same ship, does nobody realize that? You were gunning, he was flying—you were offense, he was defense—that’s the only fucking difference, and yet, it’s like that side of the mess hall is just completely lit up with hearty laughter and music playing from someone’s holopad and congratulatory drinks being passed around, while yours is… well.

You continue to fume inwardly, struggling somewhere between bitter and hurt, and you can see your reflection through the transparisteel giving him a death glare, wondering how many of the people surrounding him have made bets with Nine. How many of his little entourage have their money wagered on Dameron getting in your pants by a specific dat—

You stop short while staring at his handsome face, an infuriating, horrifying thought suddenly striking you. No… no, he wouldn’t…

“Does he know?” You immediately interrupt the chitchat between Three and Eleven to ask with a deadly edge in your voice, tipping your forehead at pretty boy. Ooh, you can already feel it burning. It would be so fucking typical. Oooooh, Maker, if he’s heard even a fucking whisper about this outside wagering going on amongst the pilots, you will fucking smother his ass in his sleep tonight. How could he not know? With as many friends as he has? If you’re just being made aware of it, then it’s a given that somebody has to have told him by now, which just means that it’s all the more possible—shit, even more likely—that he’s… participating, too. You do your best to keep your voice even, but you can hear the quiet fury shaking in it. “The bet about when me and him are gonna fuck, does he know about it?”

“Who—Dameron?” Zhang turns his head. “No, I don’t think s—”

“Yeah,” Rossi says at the exact same time, and your blood instantly turns ice cold as Zhang leans around you to blink at her stupidly.

“No. Yeah? What?” He says, sounding genuinely confused.

“Yeah, remember?” Rossi confirms with a shrug. “Nine was mad as all shit, came at me in the rec room a few weeks ag—fucking Maker, Eleven, you were there.”

“Oh,” Zhang suddenly exhales, “yeah, that’s right. Oh, yeah, Dime, he knows.”

You’re—fuck, you’re about to rampage. You’re burning a fucking hole through Dameron while he converses animatedly with his numerous buddies, waving an open hand and shaking his head at someone with a smile and then gesturing broadly to this side of the transparisteel. His pool is probably up soon, you figure. That’s why he came onto you so strong earlier today. He was going to get two weeks of your pay, plus whatever he must’ve offered up to Nine that says he’d get it to happen within a certain amount of time. Perfect, your old roomie and the arch nemesis you stupidly agreed to trade her for, two asshole peas in an asshole pod.

“—she thought I was the one who told him—” You know Rossi is still talking but you’re not actually hearing any of it. Nobody has any fucking idea. Nobody has any idea what he did to you today, how unbelievably close you were to… to actually… “—was all just for fun, but then he had a few choice words for her and told his squad that if any of them had made a—” You don’t know why you’re so surprised honestly, you should’ve expected…

Wait.

“Wait,” you suddenly blurt, and while she shuts up immediately, your mind starts whirling even faster. Dameron had some… what? “Wait. Explain. You’re saying he didn’t…” You slowly shake your head, furrowing your eyebrows and trying to piece it together. “He didn’t… place a bet with her, or anything?”

“What? No,” Rossi shakes her head a lot more forcefully than you, getting frustrated. “No, fucking—didn’t you hear anything I just said, Ten? He got all high and mighty for some stupid reason, totally reamed her ass out for it.”

“But…” You blink, stunned. “But… why? Why would he…?”

Rossi shrugs. “Fuck if I know. All she said was that he ordered Black not to throw in, made her lose a fuckton of money from it. Had no idea Dameron would be so touchy about his sex life, honestly.”

He… he isn’t. He isn’t touchy about his sex life—you feel like he never shuts up about it.

Rossi continues talking, but you’re not listening again. You stare stupidly at yourself in the clear transparisteel as Dameron’s voice comes back to you, repeating something you specifically remember him saying earlier today. Something you thought was just a careless jab at the time, aimed blindly at one of your comrades with nothing more than the intent to piss you off.

…I swapped housing assignments with your shitty roommate and slept in the bunk below yours for a month and a half…

You blink beyond your own reflection to focus on him once more, still lost in his own little world, not paying a single lick of attention to you while you’re essentially having a fucking crisis over here. You didn’t think the insult had any real substance to it at all. You just naturally assumed that was the result of him wanting to lash out at anything or anyone remotely close to you, if only to get a reaction, so you never gave him one or paid it any mind.

This is why he said that about Nine? Because he knew she had organized this fucked up betting pool behind your back?

Stars, you need to get out of here, all these rumors are fucking with your head. Your assumptions and the hairpin turnarounds are giving you worse whiplash than Dameron’s… well, admittedly spectacular flying today. You were wrong about wanting to avoid isolating—in fact, that suddenly sounds like a phenomenal idea.

So, you just get up and leave right in the middle of Rossi’s sentence, needing some time alone. Neither of them call out to you as you quickly walk around the table and through the barrier towards the exit, thank the Maker, and you’re just about to retreat with no interruptions until suddenly two Greenies step in front of you and block your path.

You halt immediately, looking up at them with a furrowed brow. “What now?” You grunt, not having the patience to even wait for a response before attempting to squeeze around them.

“Hey, so you really saved our asses out there today, Goldie,” the one on the left quickly sidesteps in front of you and rushes to say, and you settle your weight back on your heels with a huff.

“What are you talking about?” You glance back and forth between them, not recalling a time you’ve ever spoken to either one, before jerking your head to gesture over your shoulder. “Go congratulate trophy boy over there, he was the one flying.”

“We did,” the one on the right tips sideways to look at Dameron behind your shoulder, likely still laughing and joking with someone about something, something super fucking dumb probably. “Well, uh. We tried.”

“What?” You let out a heavy sigh and rub your temples. “The fuck is that supposed to mean? I don’t have the time.”

“He won’t take any credit, just keeps saying that all he did was steer you around,” the other one shrugs as his companion straightens and looks down at you once more. “Wouldn’t accept any drinks we offer him, nothing. So we thought we’d buy you one instead. Unless you’re… leaving?”

It takes you a few seconds to process that, even as he allows the open invitation to hang in the air. You can’t stop the way your torso automatically twists around to study your copilot from across the mess hall in baffled silence, suddenly realizing that they’re… they’re right. Dameron has no congratulatory drinks sitting in front of him even though more and more people have made their way into the bar. He’s just sitting there grinning and nodding along to something someone else is saying, completely and blissfully unaware of the extent to which he’s fucked with you in the past twenty minutes. The past… whole day. Month and a half. Or… fuck, how long have you known him? Two years?

But then Dameron’s gaze gradually drifts this way, before suddenly locking with yours. His eyes flick behind you to look at the two Greenies blocking your exit, and then back to the way you’re staring at him, wide-eyed and startled.

He suddenly stands up and starts to take a few steps towards you, and the sheer abruptness of the movement causes you to react immediately. You stumble your way backwards through the two pilots, feeling a few hands reach out to steady you through the awkward fumbling, but you slap them away and announce loud enough for Dameron to hear beyond them that you’re taking a shower, and you don’t give a fuck how long it’s gonna be this time.

***

The knob squeaks as you turn the water on. Usually you’d step back and wait the grueling five minutes or longer it takes for it to heat up with your arms crossed over your naked chest, but this time you move directly under the freezing spray, hoping to use the ice cold to shock your system.

You're finally alone.

Technically solitude doesn’t really exist within this base. You’ve heard of others that are a little nicer, having a little more room for the ranks, but not here. Housing assignments, showers and restrooms, mess and recreation halls—they’re all communal. Everyone is given rotating shifts, so while that means there’s never any true quiet to be found, it also means that showers are spread out well throughout the day and night.

But, at least for this moment, there’s nobody else around. At least in here, in the tiled chamber with multiple shower heads stationed around you—you’re sure there are a few girls lingering in the locker room and the entry area beyond it, but for right now, you’re blissfully by yourself.

And yet, you can’t seem to enjoy it.

You know you should be basking in the isolation. You should be thrilled at the rarity of only hearing your own flipflops slap against the floor as you turn around and drench your hair with the icy spray, but the lack of an immediate distraction for your focus allows it to wander to things you don’t want it to.

Explosions, mostly. Lighting up like fireworks in front of your eyes even as they flutter closed and let water drip down them. Constant, never-ending. Some of them small—TIEs you shot down, allies drawing fire away from you and then subsequently getting overwhelmed, zipping through dense debris from deadly collisions so quick that you had trouble distinguishing friend from foe. Some of them were massive—star destroyers splitting apart, warp drives overloading, enormous casualty counts. You don’t know how many lives you took today, not directly.

The beginning was the worst—when you were still slightly disoriented, when you were panicked and screaming into the comms for assistance. Then the closest stationed tandem showed up first—Red-Two and Eight, you think it was. Doesn’t matter now. They took some heat off you before the cavalry arrived, but you remember Dameron barking out your name the second their left thruster got nicked and they started spiraling, a ferociously deep, “With me!” cutting through the white noise. It was enough to snap you back, forcing you to instantly flick your eyes away and focus dead ahead without witnessing their demise.

It wouldn’t have normally been necessary. You’ve been flying with the Resistance for years, you’ve seen way too much bloodshed by now. But you’ve never been the catalyst of it—you’ve always been able to confront threats accompanied by your squadron, right between Nine and Eleven, the flight controls rumbling steady under your palms. You’ve never faced down an entire fleet in one single ship. You’ve never had to rely so directly on the skills of another pilot in order to stay alive.

The water slowly heats to a lukewarm while you reach for the shampoo.

Surprisingly, for as much as the two of you clash in normal interactions, it was like everything eventually became… synchronized. Spectacularly so. Dameron started off the enemy confrontation by calling out his flight patterns to give you a chance to adjust your firing in real time, but then at some point, it just stopped being necessary. There was a moment where you both were able to suddenly… get it. Get each other. He didn’t have to say anything after that—you could predict each other without second guessing, react instantaneously, and work your way through the littered battlefield accordingly. You never thought it would be possible to collaborate so well with someone you’ve spent ages despising. Sure, you’d both die if you didn’t—shit, you’d probably still both die regardless—but this kind of teamwork extended beyond the need to survive. It doesn’t matter how much you want to stay alive when reading someone else’s mind is physically impossible, but for some reason… You have no idea why, but it apparently came naturally between you. It fell to pure instinct, pure reaction, and remarkably, his would somehow match yours perfectly, every single time.

You lather the shampoo in your hair, remembering how his voice changed over the course of the mission. How it gradually shifted from panicked roars and barked orders into ecstatic cheers and genuine praise after landing a difficult shot, how he just couldn’t seem to stop whooping.

You smile softly as the tepid water rinses away the dirt and sweat from your body, until the temperature is brought up to a gentle, comfortable warmth raining down you and echoing in the empty shower room.

And, your first name. Dameron kept calling you that, the whole time. The one you’re now absolutely certain you’ve never personally given to him. The one he would’ve had to have listened for specifically. Remembered, or at least asked the right person about. But why? It’s not… it makes no sense, he doesn’t give a shit. He’s notorious for not giving a shit. He can’t even be bothered to remember the names of the girls he’s actually with—so why did he go to the trouble to figure out yours? You’ve been nothing but a thorn in his side the same way he is to you, right?

Right?

Your mind starts recollecting more recent events, trying to work through and process it by yourself. He was… singing your praises today. He was openly giving you credit for the win while you pouted in the corner and assumed the absolute worst of him. As much as you’re frustrated that nobody else seemed to give voice to your contributions, you’re even more surprised that he was the one who did.

And then even earlier. Gold-Nine, holding wagers with members of your squad (and others, apparently) about when you’re going to fuck him. Dameron, tearing her a new one for it, forbidding Black Squadron from throwing in and not attempting to hide his disdain for her from you. He… he defended you. Stood up for you when your own squad was being a bunch of dicks behind your back. And nobody ever fucking mentioned it to you. What did Rossi say—a few weeks ago? He’s known all this time and only today, only after you… openly showed more interest in him than you ever have, after you worked up enough nerve to try in your own little way to flirt back this time instead of responding to his casual comments with contempt and disgust, only today is when he decided to make a real move on you.

…Your mind is completely blank and yet you still feel yourself start to heat up just a bit at even alluding to the events that took place earlier. The way his fingers felt—

Steam begins to fill the open concept chamber while you shake your head against the train of thought and reach for the soap, beginning to circle the bar along your arms and shoulders with a sigh. This is already the longest shower you’ve taken in almost two months, and your body slowly relaxes under the mist and heat as you take forever cleaning yourself, slowly and hypnotically rubbing the soap along your skin.

The second you let your eyelids dip shut at the feeling, you immediately shiver at a flash of Dameron dragging his finger out of his mouth and blinking dark eyes at you through the transparisteel.

Fuck. The soap slips from your hand and you quickly catch it against your body before it falls to the ground completely, suddenly feeling the need to breathe in the misty air a bit harder. Shower, you’re in the shower. Come on.

The dirt and grime is scrubbed from your face and you tilt your head to move the bar of soap across your neck. As it lathers, you can’t help but remember the way his lips felt against the skin right there, the scratch of his beard. You keep working the soap against that same spot for a while, not knowing if you’re trying to wash away the sensation or simulate it, until you gradually slow and make it lighter, softer—yes, that’s closer to how it felt, that’s—

Soon the water is boiling hot and you’re trying not to boil along with it, remembering everything he said against this spot, the filth he whispered to you here. Your pussy starts to throb between your legs as the memories play out in your mind, how close he got you to shattering bliss without even really working for it. If you put it all together collectively, you don’t think he actually touched you for more than a minute or two total today. Mostly he just talked to you, but stars, he hit buttons you didn’t even think you had, had you a split second away from cumming harder than Maker knows while his finger rested just above your clit and provided no stimulation whatsoever.

Fuck, you enjoyed it. You did, you’ll admit it when there’s no one else here but you. You enjoyed the fuck out of it. You wish he’d do it again. Force you to lose, force you to cum so you can at least blame him for it, remove your responsibility from the equation and allow you to put just one more thing on his shoulders, to taste ecstacy instead of expecting you to bear the weight of pretending you don’t need it any longer. He was doing you a favor, you realize that now. Your body is staging a fucking coup and you wish you could’ve called mercy before it got to this agonizing point. He turns you on, you fucking admit it. He inspires violent emotions in you—jealousy, arousal, anger, temptation—thoughts you don’t want to have and consolidating it all into various forms of hatred makes the finer details easier to ignore. Your perception of him has always been skewed by your iron will, but he all but took a fucking sledgehammer to it today, dented it beyond all recognition. You want him, you want to him to take it all away, you want him to fuck you—in the… fuck, in the good way.

You don’t have a thought beyond that. Your hand quickly falls down the length of your body to wash your private parts, biting your lip as your hips slowly start to rock into it. You’re getting clean, you’re getting clean, this is how you clean yourself, this is… yes, as long as you keep the bar of soap pressed between your palm and the top of your curls like this, you’re cleaning yourself and you can just… ease your finger down just a little bit and—

Flipflops suddenly echo from the twisting hallway leading to the tiled freshers, and you immediately snatch your hand back up again, not needing to turn around to know another girl is walking into the room. A knob somewhere to your right eventually makes a dull squeak as you quickly finish washing up and turn your showerhead off, grabbing your towel and wrapping it around yourself.

Maker, you feel like your pussy is plotting your demise. Fuck, you can’t believe you almost cheated in the fucking showers just now where literally anyone could walk in, you thought you would’ve had more self-control than that. You make your way into the changing rooms and grab your pajamas, starting to tug them on without fully drying your body and having only one thought in mind.

Dameron will probably be celebrating late tonight. You can tuck in early, scurry back to your room and cheat there.

Well, no, not cheating, because you clearly remember making a very compelling argument about wet dreams earlier today. Maker, a freebie, the word has never sounded so enticing. What you’d say amounts to a… bye-week orgasm basically, since you know he’s already lost at least one match against his own body and you’re meant to be competing on the same level. It’s only fair to let you persevere through the toughest part of the challenge if he was allowed to throw a game early on and still stay in the competition. Maybe he threw multiple games, you never got a straight answer concerning that, so it’s still under review. He could’ve thrown… three games, even. Or four.

You dress as quickly as possible and then nearly bolt through the entrance area to the restrooms with all the sinks and stalls. The balled up dirty clothes and wet towel in your arms allow you to hide the way your nipples are stiff and tender against your thin pajamas, and you can’t wait to climb into your bunk and take everything off under the covers. You’ll be able to cum, at least once. It’ll relieve so much stress, get rid of this nightmare headache, rip through your body like lightning and paralyze it until you can start over from square one and think like yourself again.

And, you’re just about to power walk your ass back to your quarters when a body nearly slams into yours as soon as you step foot outside the door, your shoulder jerking back just in time to avoid a collision.

A mechanic, you think. You’re not exactly sure, you don’t hang out with too many of them—he’s Chiss and his glowing red eyes don’t even land on you as you gasp and sidestep him at the last second, but it’s not him that catches the majority of your attention. He just exited the men’s room at the same time you left the women’s, and the door takes a moment to swing shut behind him.

You freeze. It can’t be more than a few seconds—but it feels like everything slows down and it lasts a fucking eternity.

Dameron is standing at a sink in the far corner of the room, naked except for a towel identical to the one in your arms wrapped loosely around his waist. He cradles the base of his own throat with one hand and gently drags a razor down the smooth contour of it with the other, his chin tilted up high and regal while his eyelids dip low to concentrate on his movements. He glances down and holds the foamy blade under the running faucet, tapping it twice against porcelain before the door slides him out of frame.

I can shave, a low, silky murmur slowly fills your ears, heat swelling low and hot in your tummy. Tonight, I’ll shave it off. Make it nice and smooth for you.

You feel like your body is just a collection of rigid knots all tied together, and the one between your legs is the tightest it’s ever been. Stars, on another day you’d say it feels like a bad cramp, even though you know your injection makes your period rare and like clockwork. Regardless, the split second image makes you shudder and clamp up painfully, and you just stand there and stare at the closed door for a second, trying not to shake.

Fuck, this is so fucking… presumptuous of him.

Realistically, you know it could have absolutely nothing to do with you. It’s his face—you’re not self-centered enough to have completely lost your concept of autonomy. He can do whatever he wants to his body, and that includes facial hair, full stop. You also know that he’s not being… obvious about it, no matter how much it feels that way to you. He’s using the sink and mirror at the very end of the room, not any of the ones nearest to the door—but even if he was, it’s not like he could’ve planned for you to walk out at the exact moment the metal hinge was angled wide open. He couldn’t possibly have intended for this, for you to see him doing this. He wasn’t making a show, didn’t even notice you standing there. You blame literally everything on him, or at least you always try your absolute best to—but this one…

It sends a hard shudder down your spine and you clutch the fabric in your arms tighter, trying not to drop it. Fuck. This is torture. Fuck him. Good and bad—both ways, all the ways he can be fucked, fuck him. Your head is spinning, you’re sweating fresh out of the shower, you need to cum. Maybe if you hurry, you can get that precious orgasm before he’s finished, because if Dameron is able to intercept you before you can tend to this, you’re… you’re not sure how you’re going to say no to him.

You don’t even think you want to anymore.

You feel like you’re just… holding onto it on principle now. Too stubborn and hardheaded to want change. Too stuck in your own ways to recognize how much everything already has changed.

Somehow, you end up making your way back to your room, but the whole thing is a blur. Your flipflops plap against your heels as you navigate through hallways as quick as you can, emptier than you’ve seen them in months. You know most of the pilots are probably out celebrating in either the mess hall or rec room, but the thought doesn’t really presently register. Almost nothing registers besides your continuous forward motion and the way you feel yourself throb with every step, aching for something you are going to get tonight. Fuck, you are so attached to this orgasm now, it’s not going anywhere and neither are you. You deserve this, you deserve some relief. Come hell or highwater, it’s happening tonight.

As soon as you step into your room and slap your hand blindly against the wall panel to close the door behind you, you’re carelessly dropping the bundle of fabric to the floor and then shrugging out of your pajamas in the cool pitch darkness, having exactly one mission in mind. You don’t bother with lights, with brushing your hair, with literally anything besides clamoring up the ladder to your top bunk and wiggling under the thin bedsheet, making sure to pull it up to your chin before your legs butterfly open. The tip of your finger wets itself on your tongue and then you’re dropping it down and sliding it against your poor clit, the pleasure arcing and flaring so sharp and sensitive even from your touch that you have to give it just a second.

…No, no you don’t. You don’t have to give it fucking anything. You keep moving your finger hard and quick even as your hips naturally want to jerk away from it, shoving yourself through the sensitivity with gritted teeth and a ferocious will.

Fuck, how long do you think you have? Was Dameron shaving pre or post-shower? You can’t remember, all you know is he had a towel around his waist. And that thin gold chain hanging down his neck. Was his hair wet? Fuck, why can’t you remember? His chin and jaw were smooth as silk, you know that much. Post-shower, then. Probably. Probably?

His chin and jaw were smooth as silk. You keep getting stuck on that no matter how chaotically your thoughts whirl; they fling out in different directions at different velocities but all somehow manage to go in a perfect circle and end up at the same place you started. His chin, his jaw, his mouth, his neck, his chin, his mouth, his jaw, his mouth, his mouth, his mouth—

You feel yourself start to clamp down and you speed up, chasing it. The pleasure starts burning deep inside you, the fire slowly licking down your thighs and rising up into your abdomen, and then—

And then a series of quiet beeps from the hallway practically blare like alarm bells to your frantic mind.

You immediately stop moving your finger, snapping your legs tight together and flat to the mattress as soon as the door to your room shifts open and fluorescent light spills inside, and you feel like you could actually fucking cry right now.

All this edging is just a form of self-flagellation at this point. You lay there and try not to make a sound, try not to tremble hard enough to shake the whole bunk with it, but even your breathing feels like it’s going to give you away. Dameron, shirtless with his towel draped over his shoulder, slowly steps into the room and then pauses almost immediately, making your heart stutter for a second at what so blatantly caught his attention.

One quick glance down towards his feet confirms the simultaneous hope and fear—you left everything on the floor. The towel, the dirty clothes, and your pajamas are strewn about haphazardly right where he needs to walk.

You know what it must look like to him. A trail of clothes leading directly to an occupied bed isn’t exactly subtle, even though you didn’t necessarily intend it that way. Still, what can you say? Your hand is shoved in between your legs right now and you’re in your birthday suit under this thin sheet, what the fuck can you say to him? Sorry Dameron, got too caught up with how stupid wet you get me that I left those there on accident on my way to cheat, but totally not because I lowkey want your help doing it. Convincing, that’ll go over great.

Dameron slowly lifts his head to look at you. Or, at least you think he does—the light from the open door behind him casts his body in a dark silhouette, but you know your face is perfectly illuminated for him right now. Blinking down at him from the top bunk with your brows pulled up in the middle, wide-eyed and desperate and caught red-handed. Fuck, you don’t know if he can see the way your knees are clamped tight together and your hand rests perfectly still against your pussy like this from the angle he’s at, but you know it has to be super fucking obvious either way. You’re breaking the rules, you’re touching yourself, and you both know it. You can’t lie, you can’t even sit up without confirming his very valid suspicion. He can call the game at any point, but…

You watch his head fall back down to study the mess you left for him once more. Fuck, are you positive that was an accident? Normally you wouldn’t second guess anything about your own understanding of the interactions that occur between you and him, but—you’ve never done that before. You’ve lived with roommates on this base for years, you don’t just… get naked before getting into bed, that’s bad form. How are you going to get up in the morning without having your pajamas shoved near your feet while you sleep? Wrap this thin bedsheet around yourself and scamper down the ladder until you can snatch them up from the floor, and then what? Climb all the way back up just to wiggle the clothes on underneath the blanket before going back down again? Maker, you fucked up, your pussy is plotting your fucking demise.

But then everything inside you pulls taut as Dameron suddenly decides to move. Slowly, he leans down to catch your orange jumpsuit closest to his feet with a few fingers, before he stands upright and carefully begins folding the fabric without saying a single word to you. Electricity buzzes through you as he very obviously takes his time with it, using nearly his whole armspan to lengthen and fold the sleeves while his chest and chin meet for support. When he’s eventually satisfied with it, he takes a few steps toward the empty desk on your side of the room and then sets the neat rectangle of fabric atop it where you usually keep it.

You bite your lip and you can’t help it—you start to move your finger as he goes back to sort the pajamas you wore for barely two seconds from your dirty clothes, folding and putting away whatever is clean and then tossing the rest into the shared laundry basket that gets collected every week. Somehow it makes you feel even more naked, seeing all your clothes be returned to their proper places, realizing that this is your base state now, this is what you’re going to wear tonight. Nothing. You left everything on the floor and trapped yourself up here, he’s simply shifting a pawn forward two spaces in kind now that you’ve made your first move.

You can feel yourself pulse threateningly against your own fingertip while he collects your wet towel and drapes it over your closet door to dry, and your breath comes louder through your nose while you bite back the noises you want to make, the way your movements so desperately want to speed up. Your hand working the way you want it to under the white sheets would be too much, too revealing, but you don’t know how much longer you’ll be able to care.

But then of course, the asshole has to go and put away his towel and clothes, and you endure through the whole thing while pressing back and forth against your clit so hard and slow that your toes curl and pull the sheet tucked under your chin taut. After that’s done, he makes his way over to the portshade above his desk and slowly slides it open a few inches, the light of three moons outside gradually filling the room. However, when Dameron goes back to press a button on the wall panel and close the door to the hallway, you immediately see how much softer it is in here, how the artificial fluorescents have thankfully disappeared and the room illuminates more than it blinds, glows more than it beams. He presses one more button as the lock inside the paneling slides into place.

You bite your bottom lip and try your best to hide the pleasure you’re building for yourself while he makes his way back to his desk, quietly swiping the radio off it and lowering the volume knob completely before he flips it on. The noise slowly amplifies until you’re able to catch two distinct voices conversing in Huttese—it’s the only lingua franca that still broadcasts on this old technology in this part of the galaxy, but he’s already flipping through the stations in search of something specific.

If you were thinking straight, you may have actually recognized this for what it is, but you’re having trouble even processing the details of your general surroundings right now, your mind is lagging and too slow at reading between the lines. Dameron’s doing exactly what he said he would do. He laid it all out earlier for you in the x-wing, telling you exactly what he wanted plain as day, and now he’s checking the whole list off one by one. The shade is open and the room is lit just enough to make him out, the door is locked, and he’s finding something to listen to. Something quiet, and easy.

If you were thinking straight, you’d realize that there’s a much more obvious reason why he shaved his beard—you never told him the truth about how much you liked it. You never tell him the truth. You allow—even encourage him to think the sharp things you say to him are exactly how you feel. He did it because he believed you.

Oh, but you’re not thinking straight. Your thoughts are scattered and the only thing they can agree upon is how good this feels, even as your breathing starts to grow heavier, grow louder underneath the sound of the radio. The thought stays right beneath your consciousness, tugging at your preoccupied mind. You work your finger with just a little more verve now that he’s flipping through the stations, knowing he’s distracted by spinning the dial through intermittent white noise while different voices and songs fill the room for just a second at a time.

Your bed, his voice suddenly echoes through your thoughts, originating from your subconscious but almost sounding like it’s coming from the radio in your delirious mind. I want you comfortable.

Fuck, the understanding finally clicks the second he flips to a slower song and you start to burn at the thought of what’s next. The silent promise that his actions allude to. You have the realization way too late but at least it still comes at all with the state you’re in. Your hand slows down immediately, not even needing to consciously consider the choice between achieving orgasm through your finger or his mouth. Still, it’s hard to stop touching yourself completely when it feels so fucking good to your deprived body.

Fuck, it’s barely been a few seconds since your realization and yet you immediately bristle in distress at how fucking long he’s taking.

So you open your mouth. You’re desperate and needy and on the verge of something, and it comes out without thought. You don’t think it’s loud enough for him to hear, but his head immediately lifts and looks unseeingly at the wall in front of him for a second, as if he’s questioning if he imagined it. A soft melody plays on a bluesy guitar while you hiccup and wait, but he doesn’t move.

And then you say it again, higher and tighter in your throat, pitched up to an impatient, girlish whine. “Poe…”

The radio is tossed onto the bottom bunk as soon as he spins around and walks towards the ladder, but it’s like your finger has a mind of its own the moment he disappears underneath your line of sight. Your legs spasm against the mattress and you bite your lip, not caring about the frantic way your hand begins moving under the sheet as his muted footsteps climb up the rungs.

Your eyes snap to his as soon as you can see him beyond the railing at your feet, heaving himself up until everything above his waist is above you, too. His pauses there and his lashes quickly dip to the shameless movements between your legs as you work yourself towards that approaching bliss, and then flick back to the way you’re biting your lip and looking at him so torn, wanting so badly to wait for it but not being able to right now.

Slowly, he begins to move forward, crawling his way up the mattress and over your body, noticeably careful with where he places his limbs. You’re not hard to dodge, though—you’re like a rigid stick of desperation under him, knees and ankles still clamped tight together and your arms streamlined as close to your body as possible with tension as you keep rubbing your clit. Not to mention the sheet is thin and shows your figure almost perfectly with how tight you’ve hooked it under your chin, only leaving the finest details to the imagination.

But then there starts to be a little strain against the fabric, an unspoken question he’s still bothering to ask even though you could’ve told him to fuck off ages ago. Poe could yank the sheet down and flip your shit over and destroy you right now if he wanted—fuck, like you want him to do—but his face slowly appears in front of yours instead and his dark eyes search your features for answers. The length of his chain dangles from his muscular neck and glows against his golden skin, his whole upper body stretched long and bare over you.

From the gradually increasing tightness pulling on the fabric, you expect the sheet to rip down your body as soon as you lift your chin and let that resistance go, but instead… stars, it’s slow. Why is he going so fucking slow?? The bedsheet barely flutters down to your collarbone before he’s able to stop tugging on it so hard, and then he just gently inches the hem down from that point on.

Fuck—your eyes drop to his lips as he eventually reveals your shoulders and sternum to the room, and then lower to your cleavage while you let out a hushed whimper, praying he understands the extent of how vulnerable you’re allowing yourself to be. You don’t do this often—and you definitely don’t do it with someone like him. He’s the one who said you needed this, isn't he? So why the fuck is he dragging out the anticipation? Pretending like he doesn’t see the way you’re begging for help in the middle of another warzone that’s breaking out for the second time today?

Poe’s head drops down to give the contour of your neck a long drag of his tongue, slow and hot and wet, the sheet eventually dropping beneath your nipples and exposing them to the cool air. You bite your lip and keep working yourself under the fabric even as it’s led down the length of your tummy, and you just get wetter and wetter feeling him mouth at your skin as the radio continues to play soft from the bottom bunk. He follows the skin as it’s revealed, licking down from your collarbone and working with the increasing rate of your breathing. His lips never feel like they vary in pressure, even as your chest heaves up and down and your lungs work hard for air.

His open mouth slowly drags down the curve of your breast and it makes your blood burn fire through your veins. You nearly choke when your nipple is enveloped in soft heat, his tongue quickly fluttering up under the stiff peak and giving it to you so gently, contrasting so light and vernal with how brilliant and neon bright the need between your legs is. Your hand starts to work quicker, and fuck—you can hear it now, your desperate movements audible over the shallow breaths and the sound of one song gradually fading into another below you. You’re just too fucking wet and your pussy is smushed with how tight your legs are pressed together—the noise is unavoidable, and Poe’s knees are planted too close to either side of your thighs to spread them really at all.

Fuck, you knock against the resistance regardless to let him know what you want, but he doesn’t budge and it makes you just about lose your damn mind. Does he have to make everything so fucking difficult? You couldn’t close your legs earlier and now you can’t open them, and it’s like he’s able to take perfect advantage of each opposing position to prolong your torture.

But then his tongue leaves you even as his jaw opens just slightly, and that’s the only warning you get before his teeth graze your nipple with a sudden arc of sensation and you flare up all at once.

It’s a miracle and a curse that you’re able to stop at the very last second, your hand jerking away from your pussy and flexing into a fucking death claw on your thigh at how close you were, and you don’t know why. Why did the fuck did you stop? There’s nothing standing in your way right now, you’ve consciously given yourself express permission to cum, but still. It must just be learned instinct at this point—hammered into your muscle memory for weeks on end to not allow the pleasure no matter what, especially when you’re this fucking close to it.

Nonetheless you garble out nonsense and cinch inwards on yourself to fight it off now that you’ve apparently decided against it. There’s nothing worse than a half-assed orgasm, and you have to quickly summon the conviction behind your split second reaction before it’s too late and your body takes the pleasure any way it can get it.

Poe’s mouth releases your nipple at the way your whole spine suddenly hunches in and he drops his forehead to your chest, breathing heavy down the slope of your breast as you tremble and grapple for your sanity.

“Did you just cum?” Is the first thing he says to you, his voice is so ragged and stony it’s practically gravel crunching as he speaks.

“N-n-no,” you quickly stammer at the ceiling, trying to remember how to breathe correctly. Inhale, exhale—fuck, which one is inhale again, which one comes first? Maker, does he need to call a fucking medic? “Huhhhhalmost?”

Poe takes a deep breath and slowly releases it with a bassy and warm mmmm rumbling against your skin, so coarse but pleased enough to sound like melted chocolate dripping down your body. The noise sends a violent shudder through you and it’s almost enough to knock you back to that edge again, even without your fingers assisting it.

His head dips and the sheet pulls down even more, just below your belly button now, and you let out a quiet gasp in anticipation, nearly on the verge of begging him to keep moving downwards. But when Poe’s eyes close and his mouth suddenly moves back up to open over your other nipple instead, your patience snaps.

Fuck him, bad way. This is your orgasm, you’re done waiting.

“I’m gonna cum,” you snarl furiously down at him, shoving your hand between your legs even as Poe’s lips quirk against your skin. It’s not a warning, it’s a threat. If he’s gonna be like this, he doesn’t get to share it with you. It’s your orgasm, you’ll give it to yourself if he doesn’t give a shit about it. “Thought you wanted it, guess not.”

You immediately feel his teeth again in response to your admittedly slightly bitchy comment and this time he lets your nipple roll just a bit between them, making you jerk at the sensation and quickly find your clit again. Oh, you’re soaking fucking wet, you’re wet everywhere. Slick and swollen and burning, and it’s not going to take much at all. The sheet sticks to your overheated body and you can’t tell the difference between your sweat, his saliva, or wetness from between your legs—it all just feels damp and slippery as you gradually lose your bearings under his mouth.

“Fuck this, I’m gonna cum,” you breathe once more, possibly nothing more than a mindless reiteration but most likely just one last veiled plea for him to give you what you both want. As if he can tell, Poe quickly lifts his mouth and suddenly the sheet is ripped the rest of the way down your naked body completely, sharp and frustrated, and then his lips brush against your elbow as it twitches, nipping the sensitive skin there.

“Brat,” he growls quietly against your forearm as he keeps dragging his lips down further, following the path it makes along your tummy. “Just likes making shit difficult.”

“You’re the one—” you hiccup, trying to sound angry but just melting into a puddle at the tip of his tongue slowly trailing down your frantically moving wrist, “—you’re the… the o-one who… who…?”

But you’re already sprinting towards that edge, feeling him drop even lower and his hot breath fan against your fingers, and at this point you’re too far gone. Poe gently kisses at your closed thighs, in perfect position and ready for you, but you can’t stop yourself anymore unless he makes you stop, and the longer he waits down there without grabbing your hand to replace it with something better the more you don’t give a shit about whether or not it’s going to happen. You can feel the orgasm rising, you can feel your toes flex and everything start to lock down for the approaching tsunami. You’re going to get it this time, you’re going to cum, you’re going to—

“This is—” you rasp, “—this is a f-free, a fffff-ffreeeeb—”

His tongue softly grazes your knuckle as it works.

And then there’s a moment. A suspended moment that seems to go on forever, where you’re launched directly over that cliff and yet you still seem to be gaining altitude. Where’s the drop? You’re already cumming—you can feel it, there’s absolutely no fucking going back now, but it’s like your sheer desperation has so much momentum that your body tricks itself into believing there’s nothing to land on, no gravity to immediately rip you straight down to your demise.

You choke out his name and your back arches with it and that must be the signal, because Poe finally pulls your hand away and lets his chin dip, and then his jaw falls open and allows you just enough time to catch the glimmer of his pink tongue before it slides wet and slow through your swollen folds.

Heat. It sears through your whole body with a wracked shudder, the slick glide over your clit as his eyes flutter closed, and within the very first second of feeling his mouth on you, you’re instantly cumming inside it.

There. There’s the drop.

The burning erupts into molten chaos, crumpling your whole body on impact like an accordion, but he sinks all his weight down on your legs and forces you to endure it with everything below your waist pinned to the mattress. It’s fucking mayhem. You feel like your voice actually rips itself in half with the ragged cry of blinding relief, so enormous and soul wrenching in power that you couldn’t even hope to muffle it. You can’t move your hips through it, you can’t stutter up to ride it out—you have to experience the whole thing with your lower body completely still while his tongue takes slow, gentle licks at your throbbing clit, only able to sit your shoulders up and slam them back down and grab his head as you endure.

You cum hard. Fucking hard. It’s daunting and explosive and utterly devastating in the havoc it wreaks, and just when you think you’ve seen the worst of it, it’s just so slow. Creeping along and obliterating everything in its path, taking an eternity to pass because of how fucking big it is.

When you’re finally able to float back down into your own body again, the first thing you notice is how tight his hold is. Poe’s arms are wrapped around your thighs to keep them pressed tight together and you can feel the wetness all the way down to your fucking knees as they tremble against each other. Stars, what did he do to you? You feel like you actually wet yourself, there’s way too much dampness on the mattress underneath you to feel anywhere close to normal for you.

His mouth eventually leaves you but his head doesn’t move, nothing else moves. Even his hot breath feels like rough stimulation to your throbbing pussy.

And then Poe shifts and adjusts his body just enough, catching the backs of your knees and slowly spreading your legs up and apart like you wanted to do ages ago. They feel like jelly, wobbly and unsteady even as his thumbs hook right under your knees and easily support most of their weight. Your pussy is soon exposed completely, and his shoulders move down just before his head drops to lick the collection of wetness right from your entrance. Fuck, he couldn’t get it from the previous angle your legs were at, just your clit at the very top—but this is deep and personal and you know he’s probably getting mouthfuls of how hard he just made you cum, using the tip of his tongue to scoop your arousal up and swallowing it quietly before going back for more.

“Poe,” you whisper, and he rumbles low in his throat in response without stopping. This isn’t for you, this isn’t for your benefit right now. Your pleasure receptors aren’t concentrated right here, just the physical evidence of them being overloaded just a few moments ago, but he stays for longer than necessary. He keeps his mouth here far longer than you need to push past the throbbing sensitivity and start to crave the sensation again, forcing you to bite your lip to stop yourself from telling him to move back up just a couple inches.

So you seek it out instead, the lower part of your body clearly not listening to a damn thing your mind tells it right now. Your hips drop and his velvet tongue catches your clit at the apex of its repetitive motion, and you gasp and rock upwards again as Poe groans and immediately rises with you to chase it. He attaches to the swollen flesh and sucks at it gently for you, following your lead, letting your wet fingers comb his hair back from his face and clutch a good fistful of it as you plant your feet and slowly grind up into his mouth.

Fuck. He was right. You needed this. Everything about it is heaven—endorphins pour off you in waves as you roll your hips against his face, and he lets you do it. He’s not just pliant, he’s willing. His tongue works diligently, his eyes close and he moans into your pussy, allowing you to tug his hair and fit to his mouth exactly how you want.

Oh, everything burns. Everything smolders and sparks, because he’s always been so withholding and now he’s just going for it. He’s reading your mind better than he did during the battle today, not necessarily submissive in his approach but… servicing. Accommodating. Finally giving in and putting real effort into helping you chase after another shot of ecstasy without being so stingy about it like before.

As soon as you feel another familiar swell of something deep down, your mouth is suddenly dropping open.

“How many—” your ragged voice comes out without thinking, and it takes so fucking long to actually attach the train of thought to its conduit of translation. You swallow thickly and flex your fingers in his hair, tugging at him to ground yourself, trying to anchor yourself to the very thing that’s about to fling you into oblivion again. “—fuck, how many times did you… how many fr-freebies do I—do I…”

Poe eases his chin back just enough to respond, and the slick sound his tongue makes leaving your clit makes you shudder and miss the wretched words at first. “Mm. Just the one.”

And then his tongue is already sliding back through your pussy by the time your eyes pop open in immediate panic, and your clit is in his mouth again as soon as yours drops to frantically contest.

But the words aren’t coming, it feels too fucking amazing. Your jaw goes slack and your fingers tighten in his hair. Maker almighty, the orgasm swells up so sharp and quick that you have to fucking kick him at the very last second to get away from it. Thankfully Poe’s mouth abruptly leaves you with his oof of shock at your audacity, lifting his head as you snap your legs together and grit your teeth through your miserable retreat from ecstasy. You don’t even notice the way your knee almost knocks into his jaw with it—you just focus on shamefully easing your way back down again from the platform overlooking bliss like you’re too afraid of the high-dive. After a second, you actually have to turn on your side and rock yourself like a child as Poe slowly sits up with a grimace, lifting his arm to rub at his ribcage where your heel slammed into him.

You peek an eye open to watch him do it and oh no, it’s not a good plan. He’s so… fucking hot. Fuck. He’s unbelievably good-looking—his hair curls and frames such handsome features, his body is lovely and warm and seeing his chest bare and up close like this makes you want to reach out and slowly drag your hand down the smooth curve of his side. But then your gaze catches on the dark sweatpants tented shamelessly between his legs and how he’s glistening with perspiration, too, and how he tugs at the fabric covering his crotch and sighs softly, blinking down at you slow and intoxicated with lust.

You have to close your eyes and bury your face into the pillow because your body is latching onto anything to keep you within inches of that edge. The mere sight of him is enough to make you worry for yourself. You take deep breaths and do your best to tune his existence out entirely. Just you, just you in your bed, trying desperately not to cum without even touching yourself. You’re naked and curled up and there's no one here to look down at you with deep brown eyes, no one else breathing and especially not equally as loud as you are. Just you, just you.

And, just when you think you might finally get to the point where you’re not teetering anymore, where you’re at least mostly certain that moving around and looking at things and just existing in general isn’t going to make you completely unravel hands-free at any moment, he has to fucking… go and be himself.

You peek up to see him staring down at you, dark and intimate and devouring, before his hand gently brushes down the curve of your hip. “Maker, you are so fucking hot right now. Was that a close one, pretty baby?”

Your hand snaps out to grab his wrist with a whimper and you don’t know if your intent is to stop him or just hang on for dear life, but your grip is weak and you shake and Poe takes the opportunity to grab a handful of your ass while you do absolutely fuck all to stop him.

“Mmmm. Open your legs,” he murmurs, releasing your flesh just to give it a soft smack. “You’re only making it worse like this.”

“What? W-What do you—” you stammer, but Poe drags his hand down your thigh to catch one of your knees and pull it up without waiting for your babbled reply. Both knees go with him, your pelvis wound too tight and frozen to do anything but rotate your whole entire body on your tailbone.

“You’re just adding more pressure by keeping them closed,” he explains, wiggling his fingers in between your knees to try and get enough of a grip to pry them apart. “C’mon—open your legs, let yourself breathe.”

“Nnnnnnstop talking,” you groan, trying to slap at him, but he’s strong enough to force the movement regardless, levering your knees apart and then pushing them tight to the mattress. And, though he would normally be right about it, you’re fighting your mind to get away from the orgasm just as much as you are your body. The sudden exposure and the positioning and the way he automatically drops his gaze down at your needy pussy with his cock still hidden in his pants like that only serves to displace the cause instead of eliminating the effect. Closing the door and opening a window, shifting the stimulation somewhere else but allowing it to throb steady and aching regardless.

“Much better,” he sighs lowly, digging his fingers into the sore muscles inside your thighs and you just keep your hands loosely attached to his wrists as he works. “Fuck me, baby’s got such a pretty pussy doesn’t she?”

“Poe,” you wheeze up at him, hearing him rumble at the sight of your cunt contracting around nothing, probably shining and glistening with your desperation for him. By this point, you’re worrying again. You have no doubt whatsoever that he could talk you into cumming just like this, with your hands trembling and clutching at his wrists. If he keeps murmuring filth while holding your legs open and staring at your pussy like this, you have no doubt you’ll find a way to get there somehow.

Thankfully, he seems to understand. He goes quiet and just keeps massaging your sore muscles while you try not to writhe underneath him. Stars, it’s like he’s genuinely doing what he can to take it easy on you and you’re still all kinds of fucked up about it, still frantic and desperate while all he’s doing is just squeezing your legs.

“Calm down,” he gruffs, but you can’t. “You’re working yourself up, don’t—”

“Stop talki—” your ragged growl is cut off by your own hiccup as you quickly find the strength to shove at his hands, knowing they’re at least mostly to blame for your prolonged tightrope walk. You can’t fucking think when he’s touching you, you become too hyper-aware of your own body, it feels too good in a way that’s hard to describe and impossible to explain. Poe’s palms immediately listen and raise in front of him in surrender, his back lifting to give you space while you hide your face from him with shaky hands and gasp. It’s pathetic and your legs are still held wide open and your fingers tremble hard enough to resemble a malfunction.

You just. You need a hard reset. You need that thirty seconds of complete idle, of figuring shit out on your own without an electric current running through you before you can start working properly again. It can’t be rushed, it’s necessary when most people just want to power down and then right back up again. The wires connecting your parts are all criss-crossed and tangled and sparks are lighting up at the slightest stimulus, you just need to experience absolutely nothing for thir—

“I’m sorry,” Poe murmurs, still staying in his own space but the gravelly voice shooting a bolt of lightning down your spine. Thirty seconds, of course he couldn’t give you thirty fucking seconds. “Fuck, you’re so hot, I’m sorry—”

“Please stop talking,” you beg him, your fingers curling against your face, “Maker, I—I don’t want to cum—”

“Fuck, I know, it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever fucki—”

You go to kick him again and even though it collides wrong and does nothing more than get your message across, the jostle is enough to knock you back from the approaching oblivion just slightly. It serves to wake you up way more than it remotely hurts him, the equivalent of someone just smacking a piece of machinery and fixing the problem temporarily.

You heave an enormous breath and blink your eyes open behind your fingers, immediately locking with his. Poe’s teeth are digging into his bottom lip but he’s mercifully silent, even when you drop your shaky hands down to your spread thighs and stay equally silent another full minute while you make the effort to right yourself. After awhile though, you realize he must be taking cues from you, waiting for you to speak.

Only, you suddenly don’t know what to say. You’re at a complete loss, looking up at him through your eyelashes in uncertainty now. Something you’ve never been around him, even as your pussy is wide open for him to look at. He hasn’t recently, though, you don’t think. He’s just keeping his eyes on your face, watching you bite your lip and blink up at him while your mind whirls, the only sound that can be heard is the radio continuing to lull from the bottom bunk.

You wish he’d say something. How come he’s choosing right now to listen to what you tell him to do? You don’t… you don’t know what to say to him. Why can’t you figure out something? You fidget but then suddenly feel your expression lose all its struggle and just look… innocent. Needing his help.

“Do you want me to leave?” Poe eventually asks after another moment, tentative of breaking the silence, and you frantically shake your head before he’s even finished speaking. Fuck, something drops in your stomach at how desperate you’re probably coming off right now, but you’re so lost and you know that’s at least one question you know the immediate answer to.

Poe tilts his head thoughtfully, slowly reaching a hand towards your thigh without removing his eyes from yours. “Want me to make you cum again?”

You shake your head again, wide-eyed and worried. He immediately pulls his hand back and blinks slowly at you.

“You want to be edged more?” He asks lowly, and you shake your head vehemently for the third time. Poe sighs and sits back, planting his palms to his thighs and pulling at the fabric of his pants in budding frustration, clearly tired of playing twenty questions. “Well what do you want, baby? You wanna just hang out? That’s fine, I don’t care, but you gotta tell me.”

Fuck, he’s right, what do you want? The only thing that’s standing in your way of feeling better, you soon realize.

“Want you to cum first,” you mumble, cheeks warming at how childish you sound.

“Not a fucking chance,” Poe immediately scoffs, crossing his arms over his bare chest. “And pouting at me isn’t gonna help.”

“Why not?” You breathe, dipping your gaze down his body. “I can use my mouth.”

“I don’t—” he stops short, suddenly registering what you said and switching gears. “You can—?” Poe narrows his eyebrows and looks suspicious. “You’ll let me… cum in it?”

“Okay,” you whisper in breathless agreement, sitting up and reaching for him, but Poe groans and pushes you back down on the mattress with a flattened palm against your shoulder like you just aced a test he was hoping you’d fail.

“Fuck whoever’s idea this was,” he grits darkly to himself while you arch up against his hold, wanting him to grab your tits but knowing it’s not a good idea right now. “Maker, I’m so fucking hard—fuck whoever’s idea this was, making me turn that down—”

“You said,” you pant, licking your dry lips and blinking up at the ceiling, trying to control yourself, “before, you said that you’re… you’re not doing this for a bet, right? So why not?” Your voice goes softer when you flutter your gaze back at him, even though the accusation feels like it should be sharper if anything, since it comes from a very real place of distrust. “Were you just… lying to me about that?”

“Fuck, come on,” Poe groans, his voice starting to waver as he shakes his head and squints one eye at you, exasperated. “You don’t get it. You can’t think of a single fucking reason I don’t wanna blow my load just yet? Really?”

The sentence coupled with his rock solid hold on you skitters a thrill through your body and you automatically reach up to run your hand along his forearm. He looks down at the caress and then back to your face and fuck, even you feel like you’re sending mixed signals right now.

“You could… fuck me,” you whisper, and Poe’s dark eyebrows pull up as his gaze falls down your naked body, nodding and digging his teeth into his bottom lip. An agreement backed by so much unspoken desire that it looks like it almost hurts him just to hear you say it out loud. “And we can just… see who cums first.”

“Yeah?” He croaks, his eyes pinned between your open legs. “Just say fuck it all and race for last place? Okay.”

Your heart pounds, having just enough wherewithal to preemptively establish a safety net for yourself. “And—and we can’t finish at the same time or we both lose.”

“Fuck,” Poe groans, reaching down to catch the hem of his sweatpants with his thumb and lifting his hips until his cock is exposed to the dim room. “We can’t stop once we start, then, we’ll have to see it through.”

Except you don’t catch any of the last part because, uh. Well, to sum up. May the Maker have mercy on you all.

Just like that, the only thought in your mind is… you get it. Okay, you get it. He told you before that girls were only interested in him for his cock, and it actually… stars, it makes so much fucking sense now, you totally get it. You thought maybe he was just boasting as a form of overcompensation at first—or, to put it another way you’ve probably used in conversation with him before, talking big talk but walking small walk. Only now, you’re… humbled. By a fucking dick, you’re humbled.

You haven’t seen more than a few of them in this context, so you know you’re not necessarily qualified to give an informed opinion, but heavens it’s a sight. It’s thick and swollen and just a shade darker than his complexion and everything inside you rockets to attention as soon as he wraps his hand around it. It’s big. It fills his whole palm without much room to spare. Far larger than what you’re used to, and you know that no matter how he fucks you with it, you’re gonna feel it tomorrow. Next weekend, probably.

Your eyes must betray you, because Poe suddenly loosens his grip and breathes your name softly, causing you to flick your eyes back up to his. You didn’t realize you were staring so openly.

“I’ll go slow,” he reassures you quietly, voice gentle and knowing. The complete lack of sarcasm or aggression in his tone is enough to snap you back to yourself, knowing that can’t possibly be right. He’s talking to you like he did when you stumbled your ass out of the x-wing today, when you were barely responsive and lost in dumb shock. He doesn’t have to… be nice to you right now, like you’re still only moments away from losing it. It’s offensive.

“I can handle it,” you harumph, widening your legs while Poe immediately suppresses a grin.

“'Course you can,” he sighs with the slightest note of fondness creeping into his voice, dropping his hips as he lines up at your entrance. “And I’ll go slow anyways.”

You open your mouth to respond but at the first push of his head inside, you inhale sharply and your palm immediately shoots out to press against his chest on complete instinct. The stab of pain is impossible to mask from your features and Poe instantly stops with a shaky breath, watching how your jaw drops at the intrusion and your face contorts.

“Ahh. Shit…” he whispers as his head tips down, dark eyes clamping shut and his hold on you tightening. “What—shit, what the fuck…”

“Keep going,” you growl out, even though you know you’re just making it more difficult on yourself. You can take Poe’s cock, you can take it, he has absolutely nothing to brag about, it’s completely normal-sized—

His hips inch forwards and you gasp at the excruciating arc of sensation, slapping at him harder.

“Keep going,” you babble while locking your elbows and shoving him back, “fuck, keep going, keep going—”

“Baby,” Poe groans, wrenching one of your hands from his chest and bringing your wrist up to his mouth to kiss and breathe hot air on it, “baby, you gotta let me—”

He moves a little more and you cry out, jerking your hand back from his lips and knocking it hard against his chest before you even realize it. Oh shit, you can’t handle it, you haven’t been fucked in so long—

“I’m sorry,” you choke out, trying to be nicer by flattening your palm but then immediately digging your nails in, “fuck, I’m sorry, it’s just—it’s been awhile since I—”

“Shit, I can tell,” he pants brokenly, his fingers dropping back down to flex hard on your hip. “Hoooolyfuck, I can te—ah, fuck, it’s alright, it’s alright, just—nnnnnnshit, okay, just relax, don’t tense up too muuuh… much—”

His cock pushes deeper even as he keeps rambling through it and you feel yourself being rearranged to make room for the slow movement, giving way to a rich pleasure even as the discomfort increases.

Poe stops once more when your hands shove up against him, somehow simultaneously shakier and firmer than all the other times put together and a little more than half of him inside you at this point. You’re so slick and hot between your legs that there’s no resistance besides the stretch, nothing to stop him from slamming home besides your weak hands trembling at his collarbone, but everything about the way he stays completely frozen for ages says he’s controlled and patient.

Everything except his face, you soon realize.

When your body is finally able to come to terms with the sensation and you blink up at him, Poe isn’t looking at you anymore. He’s staring directly over your head at the wall, tangible regret manifesting itself in seething frustration marring his expression. His eyebrows furrow and he scowls but all of it is silent and directed at himself, as if he’s asking why the fuck he actually agreed to do this. You know then that it must be really fucking wet. You know then that you must be just blazing hot and tighter than sin and as if in rhythmic agreement, his cock jumps inside you with each pounding rush of blood through it. You can see the sweat beading at his hairline as he continues to ignore you for the moment, choosing instead to silently lament at the wall like it did something to mortally betray him.

You could… make this a sprint, something devious suddenly whispers to you. He’s struggling through the pleasure and you can outlast. From the severity of that look alone, you can put an end to it before it even starts.

Admittedly, you don’t even let the devil finish his damn sentence before you decide to take your own initiative. You clamp down around him as hard as you can and Poe whips his attention down to you and punches out a curse that sounds like you wrenched the word from his throat before he was anywhere near ready for it. It comes from somewhere high and defenseless in register and then quickly falls down into a growly pit as his hips automatically lurch forwards the rest of the way inside, hard, smacking into yours as you squeeze wickedly around him.

You keep squeezing through the sudden upward shove of bliss, you keep tightening up even though you’re making agonizing noises and your eyes clamp shut and it hurts. But stars, it feels good, why does it feel so good when it hurts so bad? It makes your throat scrape and your face twist up, but you can hear his cursing getting louder and more desperate so you still don’t relax your viselike hold around him.

“Stop it—” he snarls down at you rabidly, “—oh fuck, stop or you’ll make us both cu—”

Shit, he’s right. You know he’s never been more right about anything as soon as his hips stutter and kick up to a full blown gallop in the middle of his furious scolding, and the sudden build of ecstasy is so fast and intense that you sob his name, not being able to loosen your muscles anymore as soon as it overtakes you. But it’s like a closed circuit, you’re both recycling the same pleasure without knowing how to shut it off. The harder you bear down on him, the faster his hips work, the vicious cycle compounding and circling and manifesting in the perfect typhoon within just a few tumultuous seconds.

But then suddenly he rips himself out of you with a gasp and it’s not a moment too soon, because both of you have to scramble and grab onto things to brace yourselves through the worst of it. You choose the mattress and he chooses the railing, and through the searing discomfort and settling of the chaos that’s becoming more and more familiar to you as this exhausting day passes, you know you fucked up. You underestimate his self control, time and time again. But, exactly like earlier today, you feel a thrill skitter up your spine at how he’s going to respond to your brazen treachery in the face of a newly established truce.

“Fuck,” he jerks his head to spit the obscenity at you, sounding more pissed off than you’ve ever heard him, the shredded anger in his voice starting to burn through you. “Fuckfuckfuuuuck—you make me so mad. You make me so mad. I wish I could fuck you right now, on Maker, I’d ruin you. I’d wreck your shit until you learn and you’d deserve every single fucking second of it, you—”

He stops short and growls jagged sharp in frustration, but you can’t help yourself.

“Say it,” you whimper on a dare, feeling your heart pound. The words quiver with an inexplicable sort of excitement as you dig your fingers into the mattress, wanting to hear his voice snarl the mysterious profanity. “Say it. ‘You…’—what? Say it.”

Shock suddenly paints his previously tense expression blank, even though his pupils blow out and his chest heaves. Your voice is too breathless, it’s too needy to sound nearly as antagonistic as you want.

And then Maker, it’s as if the sheer control he’s clinging to serves to spark his vexation even more. Mad that you would ask for something so enticing at a moment like this. Your heart thunders as Poe nearly flashes up close to you and points a threatening finger at you.

“You’re not going to get what you want from me,” he snaps, quiet and furious. “Not tonight. I don’t give a shit, I told you I’d slow fuck you and now I’m gonna do it until you act right.”

“You’re an asshole—” you move to lift up onto your elbows, but his hand suddenly plants against your clavicle and shoves you back down flat on the mattress.

“Not even ten minutes after I make you cum and you’ve already got a fucking attitude problem again,” he shoots back, positioning his cock at your entrance with his other hand once more, and Maker you’re drowning between your legs. His sharp rebuttal and the firm hold on the upper part of your chest makes it that much wetter, knowing you can’t do much more than lift your legs the way you need when he eases his way back inside.

“P-Poe—” you gasp breathlessly, but it's like he doesn’t hear you.

His expression tenses and he shudders out a low growl. “Fuck. Tight little baby. Rude little baby, just wants everything her way but doesn’t know how to behave herself.”

You have to bite your lip hard to hold back a whine when he’s completely sheathed and his hips connect to yours, and… shit. You already feel it. You already feel that simmering starting to take hold deep down once more, that monstrous second orgasm you’ve been fighting now digging its claws into you and licking the base of your spine with fire. And, as if he can tell, his demeanor instantly changes.

“Uh, oh,” Poe murmurs quietly, equal parts lilting and baiting, slowly dragging his cock out and then starting up the laziest pace you’ve ever experienced with his hand still planted high on your sternum right below your collarbone. “Can you feel it coming? Fuck, I can,” he shudders. “Already. Fuck, you’re so wet, you’re so wet—wish you had let me eat you out mor—”

“You can’t c—umm,” you hiccup, grasping his wrist and writhing through the building ecstasy, and you don’t know who you’re talking to at this point. Your other palm slaps at his shoulder with increasing urgency—fuck, he’s been fucking you for barely ten seconds and you’re already struggling to hold everything back. Only, his hand quickly grabs yours and pins it to the mattress, his face dropping closer as he rolls his hips achingly slow. You feel his back working with the steady pace, you see his neck flex as his cock drags so thick inside you, and then your gaze starts to lose focus a bit. It slides up his throat as lazily as he’s augmenting your pleasure, following the contour of his smooth skin until it reaches his face.

And mercy, Poe’s tongue comes out to wet his lips and a dark curl hangs down his forehead, concentrating hard on fucking you steadily without giving into the same creeping euphoria you’re feeling, and you have to turn away and bite back a whimper at the metal railing when the image starts to burn you alive.

“No,” Poe gruffs and his hand slides up a few inches to frame your jaw, twisting until you face him directly once more. “Right here, you stay right here with me.”

Your eyebrows pull up weakly and your eyes flick across his stunning features, the way he’s so present, so focused and determined while you’re starting to drift. His skin is so smooth, so golden when his jawline used to be dark, and—

“I—” you choke, starting to lose it, “—I-I…”

“What is it, baby?” Poe growls, staring down at you with unwavering, intense concentration. “Tell me. You gonna cum?”

“I…” you whimper, blinking at him slowly, “I… liked your… b-beard…”

Poe’s eyes, previously hardened and steadfast, suddenly go a bit dumb, a bit dazed. After a second, his eyebrows lose all strain, his gaze turns warmer and he rolls his hips deeper—

But the swell begins to become the only thing you can comprehend—that and the fact that you should be fighting it. You should be revolting against it, but now he’s looking so softly down at you and you can’t remember what could possibly be so bad about letting him take away all this ache and desperation again. Let him continue to take it away, over and over and over until it’s nowhere to be found at all.

And then Poe leans down and kisses you. And it’s… nothing like you’d expect.

It’s gentle. It’s tender. It goes on forever while he rocks into your soaking wet cunt, easing his throbbing cock in and out of you with such a smooth, repetitive motion that sends sparks of ecstasy down your spine at the apex of each thrust.

You handle it silently. At first. You don’t audibly react to any of it, you force your voice to at least keep quiet if you can’t hide the pleasure from your face or body, but then true to fucking form, he has to go and ruin it all. Poe uses his knees to scoot up just the slightest bit, and then his moan breaks through the absence of the desperate sounds you’ve been holding back as his tongue slowly slides into your mouth.

Your pussy flares, contracting painfully around his cock as it hits a spot that makes your legs shake against his sides. Your eyes roll back as his soft tongue dips into your mouth and everything just gets tighter, and tighter. Poe moans again and his hips push a little bit harder into yours on the next thrust, and it’s almost like a domino effect, except that doesn’t do it justice. It doesn’t topple one by one, it doesn’t take any time at all for the beginning to reach the finish—it’s a house of cards, the whole thing collapses and crashes down in on itself all at once.

You cum.

You lose. Fair and square.

You make a long, anguished whine into his mouth as you just start spasming, clutching hard at his shoulders and drenching his cock with it, your eyes squeezing shut as you cum so slow and fucking helpless around him. Oh Maker, it’s fucking devastating, it feels even more destructive and powerful than the first one. You pull and shove and claw at him equally, mouth slack as Poe tightens his hold and keeps tasting your whimpering cries, fitting his hips snug to yours as he slowly pushes you down through the debilitating ecstasy. You sob in euphoric defeat and a low, bone-shattering groan of satisfaction rumbles through his chest in response, grinding his cock into you and holding it deep as your pussy convulses.

All those weeks of holding out, just to lose. You had a freebie, he gave you an orgasm already and it was like a massive dose of spice to your deprived system—all it did was make your body want it more. Even worse, your orgasm doesn’t immediately inspire one in Poe like a part of you hoped it would, if only so you could reasonably contest the validity of the outcome. He’s able to ride out every twitch and flex as you shudder your way through it, continuing to lazily slide his tongue into your mouth while it’s held open and slack. He tastes like you. He tastes hot and slick and everything about your body feels the same way, damp and unbearably warm from your nape to your elbows to your cunt to the backs of your knees.

You lay there for what feels like a lifetime afterwards, powerless to the way your thighs tremble violently against his hips and letting the tip of his tongue slowly trace the bottom edge of your teeth while he firmly keeps his cock buried inside you. It pulses thickly and you know he wants to cum, you can feel the tension pulling at his shoulders as he keeps perfectly still. But then Poe shuffles his arms up until they’re braced around your head, using himself to box you in completely without moving his lips from yours. His teeth close on your bottom lip as he inches his hard cock out long and aching from your sensitive channel, and then groans and goes back to the same exact dragging pace from before.

Your expression furrows, even as he keeps kissing you and the movement lights up your oversensitive nerves. Fuck, you want him to speed up, it’s all the more shattering and viseral when he takes his time. What is he doing? What is he waiting for?

“Fuck me,” you whine against his lips, demanding a quicker pace. You don’t know why he isn’t just letting loose on you now, giving into his body’s need to cum. He’s aching for it, still rock hard inside of you. “Come on, I already l-lost, just fuck m—”

“Told you before,” Poe whispers back, refusing to speed up. He keeps his pace dragging and steadfast, no matter how much you work to entice him. “Never… fuck. Never gave a fuck about that stupid bet. Suffer though.”

The complete lack of harshness in his tone sears through your nerve endings even though what he said wasn’t exactly nice. You never thought hearing him tell you to suck it up could be delivered in a way that inspires so much arousal in you, but then his tongue is in your mouth again as his hips work slow and easy, and your eyes roll back at how… overwhelming it feels. So intimate. You’re completely surrounded by him, his forearms propped next to your head and his mouth on yours, and… Maker, there it is again. Your body is so deprived that it’s already gearing up to go again. He’s being lazy and you can’t fucking stand how it’s breaking you down. Gradually, with incredible stamina and a patience you never expected from him. When you first feel that pull, part of you still wants to pick up the other end and start a tug-of-war with the sensation. You’ve been fighting for so long that your body almost doesn’t know any different, its automatic reaction is to resist.

A distraction, that’s what you need. That’s what guys do to stop themselves from cumming too soon, right? Fuck, think of something, think of…

—Poe, you can't think of anything but Poe. Fuck. His cock sinking deep, the way he tastes, how his fingers thread into the damp hair at your crown so you can feel him that much more, how you can hook his biceps with both hands and swirl your tongue around his while he fucks you open. Your hips roll up with the pace and almost immediately stutter back down again, not sure if you can handle the wicked shot of oversensitivity—but then Poe groans and shifts up until his thighs are under your ass and he can curl you in more, lift your feet a bit more and make you feel smaller. And—stars, the next thrust in is enough to nearly make you bite him on complete accident, an unexpected sound ripped from your throat as he keeps that specific angle.

Poe keeps going. He keeps kissing you, keeps rocking into you. He lets you claw at him, lets you grapple helplessly while his cock shreds molten hot euphoria deep inside you, and then everything tightens up again.

“Ah, fuck,” Poe breaks away and curses a whole few seconds before you descend into mindless chaos once more, garbling out broken syllables with the absense of his mouth keeping yours occupied. Your voice crescendos and breaks at the same time you do, the pleasure arcing through you over and over and wringing you out repeatedly around his throbbing cock. Poe’s lips quickly move forward and give your whole cheek an open kiss while your expression crumples with it. Teeth drag down your skin as he moans hot air across your skin, his hips slowing to a complete stop with an obscenely slick sound.

You throb and clench around him and his lips are suddenly on yours again, his tongue sinking deep and dominating. Your mouth is slack and all you can do is squeeze him through the bliss, scrape your fingernails down his back and hope it leaves a mark.

Eventually the tremors pass and you’re dead in the aftermath, you don’t have energy. Your body is starting to acclimate to the slow orgasms and just let them steamroll you flat, fully accepting now that you can cum but still putting everything you have into it like every single one might be your last for a while. You come back to yourself enough to feel Poe’s cock solid and achingly hard inside you, and your bottom lip is being tugged between his teeth.

And then he eases out and goes back to fucking you. Same speed, same control.

Your eyes nearly fucking cross. “P-Poe—”

He immediately makes a noise of disapproval with his mouth closed, a nuh-uh but kept tight in his throat. He doesn’t want to hear it, he’s not even letting you finish your thought.

You can’t take it, though, you didn’t think he was capable of this. This is torturous in an entirely different way, overstimulating and shattering you with every thrust.

So, you think back to the one thing that got him to nearly snap earlier, the one time you really got to see that fire you love playing with. Only now, you need that fire, you need him to take everything out on you. Your floor muscles clamp down without warning and squeeze him as tight as possible, squeeze squeeze squeeze until you feel his hips stutter to a halt once more. Your breath catches—fuck, is this gonna work?—but then Poe breaks away from your lips to drop his head and sink his teeth into your neck.

You nearly squeal at how careless he is about it—an animal that bites you lazily even though it sends sharp agony rocketing through you. Again, your attempt at sabotage backfires spectacularly as a subsequent flare of pleasure swells up, and oh, that’s what you want, you want him to be mean—

“Please,” you whimper, hooking your ankles behind his back and locking down hard enough to make your toes curl. Poe groans as you grab a fistful of his hair and tug at the way your skin pinches between his teeth—you know you’re gonna have a bite mark for a few days and it thrills you. “Fuck, please, Poe—please just fuck me, please, I want you to fuck me until it hurts, fuck me the way we both nee—”

“You and me almost died today,” Poe grits into your neck, cutting off your desperate whimpers with a short growl. “Maker, it was so close, I don’t think anybody has any f-fucking…” His hips pull out and then spear deep and you choke, tightening and tightening. “But—shit, we didn’t, we lived and now—oh fuck, now baby’s finally letting me fuck her and I’m not cutting it short, no matter how pretty she sounds asking.”

His words sound slurred against your neck and you can’t tell if it’s his delivery or your perception that’s lagging. But when you feel Poe inch his cock out and start to slowly fuck you through the tightness, you let out a weak little whine and feel yourself drifting… somewhere else.

Things subtly lose their clarity, your eyelashes dip and you stop talking because words won’t come. You can’t tell if you’re staring at the ceiling or your eyelids or the back of your head, but Poe’s voice abruptly breaking through the silence makes you realize you don’t have a concept for time anymore. You couldn’t tell him how long you’ve been floating, but you almost don’t understand what he’s saying at all and it takes you a remarkable delay to fully comprehend. But judging from what he says, it sounds like it hasn’t been long.

“Shit, are you cumming again?” He suddenly gasps into the crook of your neck and grinds his hips achingly hard into yours, “O-Oh—fuck yeah, you are—baby’s cumming again—”

“P-Poe?” You stutter and smack your hand against something, him maybe, not knowing literally anything else. Not knowing what he’s talking about, not knowing where you are, not knowing your own name, “Poe—oh m-my… God—”

“Whhh—W-What—?” You hear him breathe a split second before everything compresses down tight, and then it all shoves forward at once. All of the buildup makes itself known the very moment it becomes too much to control, like a flash flood but the downpour happened miles away. You think you might actually squeak this time, helplessly cry out like it hurts because stars, it does. It hurts so fucking good, it spiders pure plasma through your entire body with rhythmic jolts and wipes your mind completely vacant. Your shoulders shoot you up and knock your chin into something and you think you might be crying? You don’t know anymore. Your spine comes back down to the mattress like the damp fitted sheet covering it is made of pure ice—your body is overheated and you keep tensing and jerking back up until Poe forcefully pins you tight against it, growling filth under his breath as he slow fucks you through it.

You feel his hand dropping down between your bodies and you sob pitifully at the ceiling when the tip of his calloused finger brushes your clit.

***

You lose count.

It’s just… constant, there isn’t a point in keeping track anymore even if there happened to be the ability—which, nope. Not even close.

He ruins you slowly. Meticulously, with nothing more than steady, unwavering determination. Every structure you built, he takes apart by hand instead of bulldozing it the way you beg him to when you find the words. You’re certain you find them—you must find them at some point, but they’re interspaced between babbled gibberish and breathy whispers of his name.

Even though it’s slow—Maker, it’s so slow—you’ve never been so fucking exhausted. He makes you give him everything and then he drains the reserves, the hidden ones you weren’t even aware existed. He never goes fast enough; in fact, you think he’s actually slowed down over the unknown amount of time it’s been since you first called out his name and asked for this. If you were in a frame of mind to notice, you’d probably realize he’s trying harder and harder to not cum, but in your wild headspace, it just feels like a prolonged punishment for you. It still feels like he’s depriving you for his own pleasure, even though he’s actually depriving himself for yours. But you always do manage to find some way to read things wrong with him.

Eventually, he begins to waver. He stops talking so much, stops chastising you when you plead with him. He hasn’t looked at you since he first kissed you—he’s either hidden his face in your neck or closed his eyes as his soft tongue slides across your bottom lip before dipping inside.

But then there comes a point where even you realize he’s struggling not to let go now, and in your faded traces of sanity, you hear your broken voice cut through the sounds of the soft radio.

“Y-Y-You—” you gasp, trembling under him, “—youneedtocum. You need to—”

“No,” Poe grits against your chin, sounding shaky and weak no matter how sharp he makes his consonants. “Fuck, not yet, I—I-I don’t want to yet.”

“Oh no,” you wheeze out, feeling the swell begin again, the familiar flicker of warning you get as his cock slowly rocks into you. Maker, the pleasure is getting raw and painful even as your pussy is drowning his cock with it, allowing him to glide slow and deep into your sensitive channel and letting the sheer tightness of it be the only resistance your body puts up. You can feel the wetness on your cheeks though, the tears of frustration gathering as your body prepares itself for yet another wave of attack. “Oh no, ohhhhhnononononono—”

“I don’t want—” Poe gasps, his hips stuttering just a bit and one of his hands coming down to smack the pillow next to your head as he chokes, “—don’t want this to… e-end yet, I—”

Your next orgasm suddenly slams through you and Poe immediately rips himself out of you before it’s too late. He shushes you frantically while you sob in distress and writhe side to side through the contractions solo this time, having nothing to clamp down on, not even able to grind up into him because he keeps his leaking cock elevated far beyond your reach.

Oh, that’s it. That is it.

“Fuck me!” You wail up at him, water blurring your vision and tears streaming down your cheeks, “Stop fucking around and just fuck me, you asshole! Fuck me and fuck me hard Dameron or I swear to every fucking star in the sk—”

You don’t get too far. He’s immediately scrambling over top of you and a strong hand is clamping down tight over your mouth, muffling your high-pitched cries against his palm. Your legs are shoved apart and one is caught under his arm and wedged back as far as it can go. His head drops to your neck, and then he snarls a ragged, “Brat—“ under your ear before ramming his cock back inside you.

Stars. Stars light up, it’s so much—the angle, the force, the speed, the sound his hips make as they start ruthlessly colliding with yours. Your eyes screw shut and you dig your nails into the meat of his back, but he doesn’t slow down—he speeds up—

“Fuck, you still think that throwing your little fucking fits works on me?” He hisses, drilling into your g-spot with such blinding hard precision that you can’t do anything more than just claw at his chest, gasping for air that just won’t come into your lungs. “Huh? Think you can just be a little bitch to me about it and it’s gonna change anything? You still don’t have any fucking idea, do you? Look at me—” he snarls, grabbing your face and shaking it to get you to respond, “—look at what you fucking do to me—”

But you can’t. You already came countless times and he’s lurching you up the bed with every single rabid thrust into your blindingly sensitive cunt, fucking you into the railing and then the wall behind it. You still feel his fingers grasping at your jaw, forcing you to address him, to look at him, and you can’t seem to focus your vision on his blurry features even when your eyes flutter open. You’re too dumb with grinding pleasure to see anything besides blurs and stars, to say literally anything back to him. But that’s not what he cares about.

“Oh fuck yes, there it is,” his voice whines, pitching up something vulnerable as his hips ram you into the corner hard and unyielding, “fuck, there’s those pretty eyes, that’s what I wanted, baby, that’s all I wanted—th-that’s—fuck, that’s—”

They must cross, or roll back, or something, because suddenly you can’t see him at all anymore. You don’t know what happens—but you know it’s wet. You know it bursts forth something fierce and you shriek his name with a hoarse and shredded voice like he steals the last part of your whole fucking soul with it. Fuck, you’re not even there for most of it, you might actually black out.

In your conscious moments, you can feel his whole body flexing over and over again on top of you. He empties his load deep inside you and takes a fucking eternity doing it, so many breathless praises leaving his mouth so quickly that they slur together and you can’t understand any of it even if you could hear him. All you can do is feel your cunt tighten and convulse in tandem with the throbbing of his cock, rhythmically working the cum out of him until Poe stops stuttering his hips, until he finally trails off into nothing but labored gasps and slumps down on top of you in exhaustion.

You both lay there for a while, dead weight breathing.

You want to hold him, your cum-struck mind quietly provides in the comedown. You want to feel his body now that you can finally think straight and take a moment to enjoy this blissful relief. He fucked you so good and you want to touch him, you want to run your fingers through his hair and massage the tight muscles at the base of his neck.

But then you just start giggling.

It’s stupid. It’s so fucking stupid. You smack your hand over your mouth but the garbled noise easily floats beyond it, completely elated and having absolutely no explanation at all.

Poe quickly pulls his head back to look at you and you try to twist sideways under him to hide it, but you can’t stop—like a complete loon, you snort and start to laugh harder at the ridiculous sound. Oh, you don’t just float, you’re the air itself, so light with endorphins that you close your eyes and get lost in the fit until water wets the outside corners.

After a moment, a hand gently grasps your wrist and slowly pulls it down until he can see the way your mouth opens as you giggle, hear it unobstructed and let the sound bubble up at him and fill the room. And you blink your eyes open just in time to see him slowly break into the most dazzling smile you’ve ever seen him bestow a person.

And… you’ve seen him grin a million times. He’s almost always smiling, as long as you’re not right in front of him. He smiles at his squadmates, he smiles at girls, he smiles at complete strangers, and you always thought it was pretty. Always knew that he could light up a room with it, you always knew he could get anything he wanted with it, but this… this isn’t that kind of smile. That one is practiced and alluring. It wasn’t fake, necessarily, but that smile’s purpose always had more to do with making anyone who happens to witness it feel a certain way than it did about signifying his own emotional state.

This one is… goofy. Amazed, and uncoordinated. Thunderstruck in a way, except the clouds all part at the same time and let you see a rainbow. It makes you feel… alive. Colorful. Radiant. Sunshine. Butterflies.

Poe quickly drops his lips to catch yours and you moan happily, sliding your tongue into his mouth this time. You both adjust, you arch into him as he pushes your damp hair back and makes a deep noise of satisfaction, letting you explore while he wraps his arms around you and finds a way to make this atrocious position comfortable. Every part of you is smushed up against him and there’s absolutely no space to be found, and you’ve never been happier.

“We made a mess,” he groans against your lips, rocking his hips into you with a disgustingly slick sound as if to illustrate, and his cock is soft but it’s still so thick that it stays buried inside your sloppy entrance. “Shit, I—I think I might be bleeding.”

“What?” You ask breathily, and he heaves himself up with his elbows just enough to reveal his chest. You both tuck your chins unattractively to look and you don’t immediately see any blood, but your claw marks are clearly red and visible scraping down his pectorals. “Oh. Pfft. You’re fine.”

He drops back down with a huff and your head is tilted at the perfect angle catch on the tiny droplets of blood decorating the marks criss-crossing his shoulder blades. Oops.

But he’s already kissing up your neck and over the curve of your jaw and making out with you again like he can’t get enough of it, and you forget. You forget everything. You forget every disagreement, every gripe with him you’ve ever had. It’s all wiped away and replaced with giddy, childish adoration. Resetting completely and starting off on the rightest foot imaginable.

“Let’s go to my bed,” he murmurs, and you make a tight noise of disapproval. No. This is good, this is how you want to stay. The railing is digging into your lower back and he’s heavy but you’re perfect like this, this is perfect. “Baby,” Poe pants against your lips in exasperation when you quickly clutch the back of his neck and keep him glued to you, “mmph—you got everything all wet—”

This time you make a low hum of agreement and drag your hand down the bare curve of his spine to his ass to give it a squeeze. A testament to how hard and raw he fucked you. Poe shudders hard enough for you to feel his body tremble but you just kiss him harder, pulling him down onto you more.

“You’re gonna have to give me, just like—I don’t know, at least an hour or two,” he chuckles, grabbing your hands to make it easier to peel himself from your body and groaning when his cock finally slips out. “Come on, let’s hang out in my bed.”

You’re so boneless when he pulls you to sit upright, you roll a little bit and Poe has to catch you, and you laugh again. Maker, you’re a complete mess and absolutely delighted about it. Your attempts at grumbling and complaining don’t hold any sway when you’re still trying not to giggle, and Poe is able to pull you to the top of the ladder and make his way down first.

As soon as he’s out of sight and calling up to you, you weakly slide into position with a groan and feel yourself leaking at the movement. “Gah—look what you did. I’m all… gooey.”

“I know, s’the hottest fucking thing,” he says under his breath from the floor, before beckoning you by tapping on the closest rung a few times. “Come on, be careful.”

You do as he says, easing your naked body down one step at a time with wobbly legs. It’s clumsy and you whine the whole way through, wordlessly grousing and mumbling.

“Oh, I just know it,” he comments on the sound, “nice clean sheets, I’ll get the violin.”

Normally, you probably would’ve snarked something back down at him, but you’re still so loopy and shaky-legged that you just start laughing again. The fact that he’s absolutely right and you’re being ridiculous about something like moving beds suddenly strikes you as incredibly fucking funny for some reason. You don’t realize his hands are hovering inches away from your hips until your legs buckle and Poe quickly supports your weight.

“Maker,” Poe chuckles before giving you a firm yank, and then catching you before you can tumble down the ladder in your naked, teary-eyed mania, “let’s go, giggles.”

He carries you a few steps to the mattress and plops you down on top of the comforter, letting you take up the whole bed while he sits on the end and puts your feet on his lap. Poe grimaces for a second and then shuffles until the radio is pulled out from under him, and you can hear the soft sound of it playing once again. You bury your face into his pillow, inhaling the warm scent lingering there while he tosses it carelessly to the side and rubs your shins for a little bit, watching you stretch out naked on his mattress.

“I’m not giving you two weeks of pay,” you suddenly grunt, and he just grins down at you, not arguing. Not saying anything. Sitting in comfortable silence with you when you’re expecting him to bicker. So you stay like that for a long time, breathing deep and relaxing, until Poe’s hands leave you for a second…

… to pull a bag of chips out.

Maker, at the first squeaky sound of the wrapping assaulting your eardrums, you want to roll your eyes. You want to tease him about how fucking typical it is. Like clockwork, you could probably set your watch to his middle of the night cravings. You don’t know why you thought fucking him would change any of that.

You want to give him shit for it. You even open your mouth, the snark on the very tip of your tongue. But then your stomach growls as soon as he rips the thin plastic apart.

Poe’s eyes shoot to yours and neither one of you move, but apparently your tummy doesn’t get the memo. It takes forever to trail off into silence again, and he blinks. Fuck, you know you should’ve forced yourself to eat at least something earlier. Warmth floods your cheeks and you scramble for something to say, but there’s no way to play it off.

“Would you like some chips?” Poe suddenly asks with a boyish grin, raising his eyebrows and tipping the open bag freely in your direction.

The corners of your mouth pull downwards even as the inside of it waters. You wouldn’t call it stubbornness necessarily as much as it is a… a desire to stick to consistency. After the unbelievably hard time you always give him about midnight snacking, you’re hesitant to partake.

Though, the chips rustle against each other and sound absolutely fucking delicious as Poe shakes the bag and bounces his eyebrows, and you know what? Fuck it.

You snatch it without thinking, cradling the precious food to your chest as you dig your whole hand in and shove a bunch into your mouth at once. You catch him smiling again, but he doesn’t comment.

You both take turns, and by take turns you obviously mean you take turns stealing the bag from each other instead of just setting it equidistant between you and openly agreeing to share it, but it works for you. It seems appropriate. And then it’s quiet again, just munching and crinkling, except for the radio continuing to play from its place in his lap. You have to work to listen over the loud crunching vibrating through your skull, but when you finally manage to stop chewing and catch a few bars, you suddenly find yourself trying not to smile again. Fuck, it’s been years since you’ve heard this song, you love this s—

“Fuck, I love this song,” Poe promptly exclaims with his mouth full, licking the tips of his fingers before scrambling to pick the radio up and twist the volume knob without using his wet fingertips. He starts humming over the melody, loud enough to almost drown it out completely, because of course he does. The one damn time you actually want to listen to his radio and he still finds some way to mildly irritate you.

But this irritation is almost… fun. You want to laugh just as much as you want to yell at him.

“Hey, who sings this song?” You immediately ask over the sound of him clearly not knowing the lyrics, already ready with it. Oh, the round is in the chamber, your finger is on the trigger, you are ready, and Poe’s eyes sparkle as he seems to stop and think about it.

“Mm, not sure,” he eventually shrugs, just before you rush, “Let’s keep it that—”

And then he’s slapping a hand on your leg and belting out the chorus while you scoff, giggling. He ruined the punchline on purpose and is now getting chip dust all over you, but you know any complaint you make will be drowned out by his suspended notes and backing track, so you just roll your eyes and swipe the bag of chips from him while he continues to serenade you.

“My ears are bleeding,” you mutter under your breath.

He has a nice voice, you think.

#poe x reader #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #reader insert #Smut #no-droids

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kyberheart · 3 years

Text

A Deceitful Creation Part #1 - Wolffe x F!Reader

Part #2

Summary: You’ve been trying for a while now to get pregnant with your lover. Knowing that may never happen, you ask for some outside help from Wolffe on the down-low...

Word Count: 1483

Warnings: 18+, piv sex, infidelity, pregnancy/trying for a baby, cursing, angst

A/N: Heyyyyyyyy.... I’m still here! I had some stuff going on this past week so I missed my Friday fic upload, but hey! It’s Sunday, only missed it by a few days so whatever. I’m still working on part #3 of my little Techy-boy story. Hopefully will be finished by Friday the 3rd! Heh... part #3 on the 3rd... perfect. ANYWAY I hope you like this little blurb I wrote. I wanted maximum sad with lots of OOF. I kept the summary and header as vague as possible to not spoil the end. Good luck in there!

(Ao3 Link if ya want it)

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Wolffe was different with you. All teeth and tongue and nails dug into the plump flesh of your thighs. The look adorning his eyes in this moment is akin to a knife’s edge; he was holding back as not to tear you to shreds.

Your lover on the other hand, well… he was the whisper of a cool breeze in the night. A cascading avalanche of stolen breaths and languid strokes. Completely and utterly tender with you.

“C-close Wolffe, almost…I’m—!”

He nods, stooping to kiss you, but swiftly retracts his head with a tiny scowl. He knew the rules. No marks that can’t be covered up, no pet names, and under no circumstances can he kiss you. This was just a mutually beneficial transaction. Nothing more, nothing less.

“I got you… I got you…”

He’s reaching down, down, down to make contact with your clit. You keen, dropping your head back into the mattress. He fucks you through your orgasm, spilling inside of you as your legs wrap tightly around his waist. You tremble under him as you come down from your high. In a blur of muscle-memory Wolffe is reaching behind you for a pillow. He props your hips upward with it, grinding into you a few more times to make sure his seed is in there nice and deep.

“If this isn’t the one, I’m not sure if I can help. Maybe what they say is true, maybe we’re all infertile. I mean, I’ve heard rumors of defectors running off and getting people knocked up, but…” He shrugs, pulling out of you to head into the ‘fresher. You sigh, staring at the grey ceiling above you. That really wasn’t the case. Some were infertile, yes. You knew that all too well…

“I’m headed out. I have a supply run to facilitate. You alright?”

Wolffe grunts as he snaps his scratched armor around himself. He wasn’t much for conversations after the act. Rather, he preferred to be on his merry way as fast as possible. It wasn’t so much to avoid catching feelings as it was to steer clear of talking. He was undoubtedly the most stand-offish of the clones you knew. You were often surprised at how easy it was to lure him into the bedroom with how hostile his demeanor could be. Though on second thought he was just a normal guy. Sex is just as fun for him as it is for others.

“Yeah, I’m good. Thanks Wolffe. If this one doesn’t stick I’ll leave you alone.”

He pauses to search your face. You smile at him, wrapping your arms around your chest with a sleepy yawn. A garbled message blips from his forearm, which he answers with a quick acknowledgement before seating his helmet onto his head.

“Understood. I’ll see you around. Say hi to my vod for me when he gets back.”

And with that, he’s silently leaving your apartment into the void beyond. In the silence of the room your mind wanders once more. You think of your lover. Where was he right now? Somewhere far, far away? Somewhere he was safe? Was he warm, fed, and happy?

The cool dribble of Wolffe’s cum down your thigh snaps you from your rumination. You glance at the clock, finding it’s already been twenty minutes since he’d left. More than enough time, you think. With a quick curl of your spine you’re up on your feet and heading to the ‘fresher for a nice long shower. Hopefully when you were out you’d have a comm or a message from your lover.

----------------- He hunches low, lips hovering so close to your ear his hot breaths could have burned a hole through your head.

“That’s it baby, such a good girl. Just a—oh, squeezing me so tight tonight, huh? This’ll be the one, the kriffing ONE. Gonna fuck you full, fill you up to bursting. Make you s-swell with my baby. Can’t wait to see you like that… all mine…”

You cum so hard the world around you dissipates into nothing but him. He growls, pitching you forward with his angled thrusts. His hips crush you into the bed as he cums right along with you. His amber eyes sizzle with freshly tapped desire. Whispered adorations mingle between the two of you, lost to the spinning darkness of the night. When you’ve calmed your heaving breaths, you reach up to grab one of the pillows above you. He helps you position it under your hips before kissing you roughly. Between pecks, he speaks with a heart full of gentle sweetness.

“I’ll keep doing this—you’ll see. We’ll have a little one running around before you know it. Our little adi’ka… yeah…”

His eyes grow distant, lips stilling at the nape of your neck. You huff, smacking his shoulder with your hand.

“I know babe, don’t worry. With how much you’ve been between my legs I think we’ll be having LOTS of them running around.”

You wink at him, leaning up to kiss him again. He chuckles, reciprocating your heavy prodding tongue with his own within your mouth.

“I just… I know we’ve been trying for over a year… what if I...”

You shoot him a frown, tilting your head up to look him straight in the eyes. The fact of the matter was daunting and sat like tepid acid on your tongue. If he knew he wasn’t able to sire children, it would truly break him.

“NO! You are perfectly fine the way you are. I’d know, remember? I’m chief medical officer here dummy. You—WE have nothing to worry about. It’ll happen when the time is right. Trust me.”

He smiles at you, the sight of which could warm even the frostiest planet of Hoth into the dunes of Tatooine. All your love, all your patience and turmoil and sympathy and curiosity and… kriff, you’re everything was him. All him, always was and always will be. Him.

-------------------- The vividness of your dream wakes you with a start. It seemed to be recurring the last few days, a memory of the last time you and your lover were together. You shake your head of the images that haunted you. If only he was home, you wouldn’t worry so much about him.

It had already been a few weeks since Wolffe had occupied your bed. A queasy feeling was beginning to settle low in your stomach. Your lover hadn’t been back in a long while, and you were starting to think something wasn’t right.

You rise to pee, realizing in the dimly lit hush of dawn that this was becoming a frequent occurrence for you. When your shirt brushes a bit too roughly against one of your nipples you yelp. Were they always so sore in the morning? Wait…

Could this be it? A surge of adrenaline hits you like a Hammerhead Corvette as you rush into the ‘fresher. Not long after, you have a small white strip laying on your counter. Your knee bobs with anticipation, head in your hands as you sit on the hard tiled floor. This might just be it!

As the lines swell in the tiny viewport, you force yourself to breathe as deeply as possible. The memory pushes it’s way to the front of your mind once more to taunt you, to make you feel a twinge of guilt at what you’ve done. With a groan you run your fingers soothingly through your hair. You knew you could do this. Joy, passion, and relief would pave over the deceit from which this baby would be born. Your lover would never know the truth, but it was unimportant in the grand scheme of things. Forging a life, a family for the two of you was all that mattered right now.

The time is up. The minutes counted down with bated breaths. A scream tears its way from your throat as you see the result:

Pregnant

Before you can have a full-blown excitement meltdown, a beeping from the other room draws your attention. Your comm sits on your nightstand, signaling you of an incoming message. The words flash on the screen as you wipe tears from your eyes:

Dropping in to save a Jedi Master on Lola Sayu. Don’t worry, should be home before your pretty little head hits the pillow. See you soon my love. My heart is yours, forever.

Oh, you were squealing with delight now. It was finally happening! For REAL! This was a dream come true. A baby… you were going to have a baby! And your lover was going to be home by the end of the day. You wanted to comm him, send him a picture of the test, yell it to the kriffing UNIVERSE that you were fulfilling a long-awaited dream. Both of you were. You calmed yourself, resolving to tell him in person when he got home.

You couldn’t wait until Echo was back!

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ddarker-dreams · 4 years

Text

Levi Ackerman x Reader hcs. [COMM]

a/n: i haven’t written for levi in many years!! some lock lore is that i used to write for him the most, it’s actually what got me into fanfiction/anime in the first place back in 2012... so it feels very nice to write for him again. i had a lot of fun with this! :’) word count: 2k. warnings: non explicit mentions of death (not involving reader), just canon typical stuff.

Love has been a concept that remains closed off in Levi’s mind. Getting close to others is already a risk too great in the world he’s come to know, a factor that’s proven unfortunately true time and time again. When you’re close to others, it means the possibility of being hurt by them all the same when they inevitably leave. The pain of losing another he’s grown attached to outweighs the possible benefits that could come with a closer connection. This philosophy has ensnared his heart, creating a barrier that no one dared slipping past for many years.

Even though Levi makes the choice to be wary of growing closer than necessary to people, he also understands the importance of trusting in his comrades. He has his own way of mentally assessing new recruits, and didn’t think much of you initially. You were a fresh face, who hoped that your efforts would cultivate humanity’s future. He’d seen many with that spark too many times to count. All of them ending up killed in gruesome ways, or losing the shine in their eyes should they live past another expedition. Though he still has an inherent respect for anyone willing to put their lives on the line for the Survey Corps, this extending to you as well.

His initial assessment of you was proven incorrect. While no longer as naive to the horrors of the outside world, the spark inside of you remains ever bright. There’s determination, that has only grown in strength as time goes on, rather than fading away. It catches his eye, to say the least. He looks after you from afar, without even realizing it. Levi tells himself that it’d just be a shame if something happened to you. He doesn’t think anything beyond that for some time, for his own mental well being.

Your relationship starts off with no romantic intentions. Levi spots you training on your own one day, even after a grueling day of menial work that comes with being a member of the Survey Corps. He’s captivated, unable to look away from your form. It’s sloppy, he thinks, but not hopeless. You’re not hopeless. It doesn’t sound like a high compliment, but coming from him, it’s meaningful.

It’s startling when he approaches you for the first time. He’s pointing out the numerous errors in your stance and what to do to correct them, never mincing his words. Levi’s standing there, arms crossed, willing you to continue with his input. While being under the scrutiny of humanity’s strongest soldier is anxiety inducing, his advice works perfectly. He doesn’t comment further than that, turning on his heels and leaving you to your thoughts and confusion.

Keeping your body in the best possible condition is vital to staying alive. His advice, though delivered in sharp as knives critiques, serves you well. Even just the bare minimum has your technique rapidly improving. This motivation to keep growing and learning is what drives you. Levi continues to watch from a safe distance as you spend hours doing different exercises, developing your abilities. From this point on it becomes something of a tradition, as much as he tries not to think of it that way. There’s a level of subconscious attachment that comes with looking forward to seeing you improve every evening. He’s acknowledged you.

You start training together. It’s not everyday an opportunity to learn under Levi is offered, so when the hand was extended to you, you accepted it. He’s a tough yet fair teacher, offering praise only when he believes it’s deserved. Unfortunately, he can’t devote that much time to your little evenings due to his other obligations. That makes the time you shared all the more special. Despite himself, he’s looking out for you, and you him. A solid relationship begins to form.

Levi isn’t the easiest person to be around. He’s surprisingly talkative if you get him speaking on subjects that interest him, but his language remains coarse. Once you get used to this side of him, it’s for the better, hours flying by and the night sky appearing before you know it. Unlike others that tend to get offended or avoid alone time with Levi due to his reputation, you remain constant. He never brings it up, though he does wonder why you’re hellbent on seeking him out.

There are still times where Levi holds an internal battle over the unfolding events. He’s starting to like spending time with you, more than just offering wisdom on various subjects he’s knowledge about. He genuinely enjoys listening when you speak, an honor exclusive to you. Through the snark and monotonous comments, there’s clear attachment.

It gets to the point that his closer comrades even pick up on the unusual behavior, this level of respect typically reserved for no one other than Commander Erwin. Though Hanji is the only one to point this behavior out. Everyone else is too frightened at the prospect of teasing Levi over his not so subtle fondness for you. He really didn’t think he was being so obvious...

You’re on his mind more than he cares to admits. His mind wonders to you at night, when he’s in town, or even when he sees something silly that reminds him of you. Eventually, Levi’s thoughts almost always connect to you to some degree. He’ll spot something in the windows of a shop and recall how you mentioned wanting something similar, or subconsciously look for your favorite food when walking through market stalls. The thought of giving you gifts is off putting for a while since it’s a clear sign of of tenderness. And dammit, he’s trying so hard not to become attached -- but who is he kidding -- it’s far too late for that.

What Levi is good at is making swift decisions in the heat of the moment, and combat. So he has literally no idea how to approach his developing feelings for you. There are a lot of impulses, such as complimenting you, but it comes out more like an insult than anything. God bless your soul, because you’re going to be putting up with lots of uncomfortable interactions. He’s trying, okay, but he doesn’t know the first thing about romance.

How he best shows his care for you is helping around in various ways. It isn’t as embarrassing as having to offer compliments, or the other traditional ways of romancing the person you’re interested in. Levi commits to making your life easier in anyway he can. These things range from making sure your horse is in top condition, setting aside rations if he knows you’re too busy to get them yourself, and checking over your equipment personally. He presents all this by saying “You’re prone to making mistakes, so let me do it instead.” In reality he just wants to make life easier for you, don’t be fooled by the prickly comment.

He isn’t blind to the other elements of his attraction to you. You’re always glowing, an angel incarnate, beauty enough to draw in practically anyone with eyes. It was enough to draw him in after all. The first attempts at physical affection are subtle, yet heartfelt. Sitting closer to you, thighs almost touching. Leaning in closer whenever you speak. Lightly brushing his fingers against his face, claiming he saw a spec of dirt on it. All these things to gauge your reaction and build up his own confidence in pursuing you further.

The first time you kiss would be the night before an expedition. It’s always the most gut wrenching experience, anxiety ailing you so badly that sleep refuses to come. The stars are out, not a cloud in the sky. Levi comes to sit by you, chastising you for not being asleep, and offering no rebuttal when you point out that he’s also awake. It’s a serene moment, neither of you exchanging words for some time, finding comfort in each others presence. You don’t even realize how close he is to you. He speaks, the words insignificant, you’ve already long forgot what they were.

When your head turns to offer him your full attention, that’s when he leans in. A chaste kiss is pressed against your parted lips. It’s shocking to say the least, adrenaline pumping through your veins at the intimate moment. His lips are softer than you expected. He treats you with unprecedented delicacy, moving back to assess your expression through lidded eyes. When you’re willing to reciprocate he’s more than happy to let you have your way.

Levi isn’t the best with expressing himself fully through words. His actions more than compensate for this, you’ll never doubt his dedication to you. There’s no need for flowery prose, not when he has proven the lengths he’d go through to keep you safe, bearing all of himself to you. Your relationship isn’t defined by strict terminology, as he admitted to finding stuff like that “a waste of breath”. You both wordlessly acknowledge one another as partners. Any keen onlooker might be able to pick up on this, you don’t hide or put your relationship on display.

It’ll take some time for him to grow more amiable to physically expressing himself. He’s aware of his own strength and intimidating disposition, and doesn’t want to mess what’s possibly the best thing in his life up. So you’ll need to lead in most of those areas. All physical affection is reserved for private moments. Aside from maybe him whispering a sly remark or two in passing.

The affection he likes receiving from you the most would be: Complimenting his actions, when you lay your head on his shoulder, whenever you do little things to help him out without him mentioning it, and when you hug him. He’s never experienced being held by another human being. So when you do it for the first time, he’s taken aback by how pleasant it is. Your comforting scent, how your warmth envelopes him, and how he can feel your heart beating. It’s one of his favorite things in the world, other than you of course.

The type of affection that he gives you the most would be: Acknowledging your growth in different areas (especially if he knows you’re insecure in one of them), putting his hand over yours, reminding you to take care of yourself, and kissing you on the forehead. Levi is a very proactive lover. He’s got a keen eye, picking up on things about yourself before you even notice them. While he might not always have the most tact, everything he does for you comes from a wholesome place.

Levi remains serious in the public eye. But when it’s just the two of you, or the company is people he’s close with, he loosens up considerably. Most of his jokes go over your head, since he always delivers them with such a deadpan. When he gets you to laugh with his dry wit though, by god does it feel good, he could listen to your laughter forever. It might even make his face heat up.

You’re capable of making him smile more than anyone else! Though it’s still rare, that just means that when he does, you treasure it all the more. He smiles the most when you lose yourself in conversation. Rambling about your dreams, stories from your childhood, frustrating encounters that you had that day... all of it warms his heart in a way he never thought possible. You’re an addicting ray of sunshine, that he’s hellbent on protecting.

Levi knows, now more than ever, what he wants from the future. Alongside protecting and expanding humanity’s territory, it’s you that he wants by him, and no cost is too great to achieve it. He won’t lose you -- he’s already lost so much -- so expect him to be protective. There may be limits to what he can do, but they’re all arbitrary to him. Rules and morality mean nothing in the face of ensuring your safety, and he’s vowed this to you. That one day, you’ll have a secure future, forever tied to each other. He might not mention the last part as it’s embarrassing, but the general sentiment is understood.

#levi #levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi x you #levi ackerman x reader #Attack on Titan Imagine #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #aot #aot x reader #aot x you #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #snk x reader #my stuff #commissions

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brokenbeskar · 3 years

Text

Interception

Chapter Four of Memories Reforged (Din Djarin x Reader)

Word Count: 7.8k

Summary: Karga had warned that the two of you would have to work together to catch this bounty, but who knew working together would be so difficult?

Warnings: some canon typical violence, but nothing else!

A/N: This chapter was a STRUGGLE to write, but I have been so excited for it! I hope my hard work payed off and you all enjoy it!

Sixty thousand credits. Sixty thousand credits. You have to keep repeating it to yourself as you scan through the passing crowd on one of the lower levels of Galactic City. Taking bounties on Coruscant was never easy, and quite honestly it was beyond exhausting. Thousands of city blocks stacked on top of eachother and spanning the entire length of the planet made it that much easier for bounties to blend in and hide. You and the mandalorian had decided to split up to cover more ground, but even between the two of you it could take weeks to finally find your quarry, and that was time you didn’t have.

So here you were, on a vantage point scanning the streets below you on the west end, looking for any sign of your bounty. Nothing...nothing...nope...still nothing. A lot of the passersby were shady, as to be expected, but not who you're looking for. The lower you got in Galactic City, the more crime ridden and poverty stricken it became, a prime place for spice runners and black market trades. Which is exactly why you were looking here.

The bounty you’re after, Kargra warned that the two of you would have to work together to catch her, and you know why. Her name was Yanu Nuld. This particular bounty was a renowned thief. She was known for pulling off incredibly risky heists but somehow managing to never get caught. She was incredibly cunning and deceitful. Known for convincing others to help her only to leave them abandoned and easily caught with nothing in return. All of the intel gathered on her was information happily given up from those scorned by her mendacious ways. Above all though, she was incredibly smart, a master evader. The price on her head was only as high as it was because of how many failed attempts there have been made to capture her.

Yanu was clearly a thrill seeker. Hearing how high stakes her last few heists were, you wonder if she’s getting bored. It was no wonder she was here on Coruscant, there were plenty of valuables to go after, and with the thriving black market beneath your feet, she could easily make more than a few credits in one evening alone. That can’t be why she's here though, no-- she has to be after something bigger. She’s not here for some measly credits and you know it. That would be too easy for her, she needs something more exciting, more risky, more fun. What though? You didn’t intend to find out, just grab her and go as fast as possible. Sixty thousand credits were on the line here, and maker, you needed them. She was just a way to get you one step closer to your new ship.

As you’re scanning the crowd you notice a familiar, irritating gleam of metal. You huff angrily and activate the commlink in your helmet. The two of you had synced them up before you split up to communicate, but clearly there wasn’t enough of that going on.

“What are you doing here?” You bark out through the comm, and you see him immediately look up to your vantage point as if you had shouted it over the crowd.

“Looking for the bounty.” He deadpans and it infuriates you, you roll your eyes under your helmet.

“Stand up at the cantina not work out for you, shiny?” A mocking tone was oozing from your voice before you suddenly changed your demeanor and snapped out at him, “We agreed I would take the west end, and you would take east.”

“I finished sweeping the east end, she's not there.”

“Well I don’t need you to double check my work.” you spit out bitterly at him. How he managed to constantly get on your nerves was a skill of its own. You try to push your irritation aside to focus on the bounty you still had zero leads on. “I’m assuming since you’re here you didn’t get anything good from the jeweler?”

There's a long pause on his end before he replies, “I didn’t speak to the jeweler.” He says it slowly, drawing it out. He sounds almost as irritated as you.

“What do you mean, you didn’t speak to them?” You speak out through your clenched jaw. Your irritation is much more obvious than his, but you can’t help it.

“You never asked me to.” it’s true, you didn’t, but you thought it should have been obvious when you told him you thought they might have some information.

“Dank farrik! Fine!” You spit through the comm and jump down onto the dirty street below you, heading off in the direction of the jeweler. “Just keep doing whatever you’re doing. Let me know if you get anything.” You switch off the comm before he can say anything else.

You’re grumbling angrily under your breath as you trudge through the dirty streets. You and the mandalorian had been constantly getting into each other's way, you don’t work well together at all. It’s not like you don’t know how to work with others. Kriff, you got into this profession with a partner, working with someone else should be more natural to you than it would be alone. Something about this mandalorian however, was making this job far more difficult than it already was.

Since you landed he’s been getting on your nerves. The both of you couldn't agree on anything, you are uncoordinated together, pushing each other away like opposing magnets. At the same time however, you kept getting in each other's way as if you were being drawn together-- like magnets. You would go to question someone, only to find he was already there with the same idea. You would go to search a new area, only to see his damned shiny armor somewhere close by. The both of you even physically collided with each other once rounding the same corner. You were seriously only one more run-in away from locking him back in his ship and finishing this job yourself.

You pull out your tracking fob and hold it out in front of you to see if you can get anything, but the beeping is still just as steady as it has always been. She must be screwing with you on purpose, running in circles around the same block. At least you know she's still in the area. You keep walking, sweeping the fob in front of you to see if you pick up anything new, but you feel someone watching you. You feel it on the back of your neck, like electricity running through the air. You look to your right where you feel it, and see someone dart into the darkness.

Interesting...

Pocketing your fob you decide to investigate.

You step down a couple steps into the dark alley and change the setting on your helmet’s display to look for footprints. Bingo, bright red and clear as day. You follow them with your visor, whoever it was, they were running when you caught sight of them. You can tell based on the spacing of their prints and just how far they went considering you just saw them a minute ago. Walking along with them, you keep your eyes peeled, scanning your surroundings with your visor, looking for anything out of place. You’re just hoping this isn’t a trap.

You follow them down the dark and damp alleyway, until the footprints your tracking come to a halt. It’s like whoever you were tracking simply disappeared. You look up and around the buildings next to you, whoever it was had clearly taken higher ground. You spot them on the heat signature, crouched on a ledge.

“Do I have business with you?” You call up to them, letting them know you can definitely see them.

“Should have expected a mandalorian to find me that easily.” They jump down from their ledge and saunter over a few steps closer to you, but make a point to keep their distance. You can’t exactly get a good look at them, their hooded robes concealing most of their features.

You can’t help but scoff, “You say that as if that wasn’t the most obvious hiding spot. Too predictable. Now what’s your business with me.”

“I have...information.” They seem to hesitate with their offer, but it causes you to tilt your helmet up in interest, so they continue, they’re voice dropping in volume, barely above a whisper, “I know the bounty you’re after.” oh now this was interesting. Definitely not what you were expecting, and you have a pretty good feeling it could be a trap, but maybe that's exactly what you needed.

“I’m interested,” You admit, “What can you offer me?”

“Not so fast, I need something in return--in exchange. I need you to guarantee my safety.” They seem rushed, on edge.

“Your safety? From what?” You tilt your helmet at them quizzically.

“From her. And--and I want to walk away with my record clean. I don’t want anyone to know I’m involved.” They were definitely panicked, there's an urgency in their voice, a sort of desperation.

“I can’t do anything about your record, but I have no bounty on your head so you're free to leave this planet, I won't stop you. Though I’m curious, why do you need protection from my bounty?” You relax your stance slightly, shifting your weight to one leg, but keep your shoulders square.

“Listen, Yanu...she’s dangerous. I thought I knew what I was doing getting caught up with her, but when I found out there was a mandalorian holding her puck--,” They cut themselves off and shake their head slightly, “look, doesn’t matter, this ended up being more than what I signed up for. She’s acting careless, like she wants to get caught--and I for one, don’t want to end up frozen in carbonite next to her....or worse…” They trail off at the thought of what their fate could be at the hands of a mandalorian, despite you not even really being one. There's no bounty on their head, at least not one that belongs to you, so for all you care you would shoot them without hesitation if they got in your way. And you get the feeling they know it.

“How’d you know I was after her?” You rest your hands on your belt as you continue to question them. So far their story makes sense, but you’re checking for holes. Any little hint that something doesn't add up.

“We saw you. Two days ago, maybe three hundred levels up. She knew immediately you were looking for her. ‘only a matter of time,’ she said.” The stranger in front of you shakes their head to themselves before continuing, “I didn’t believe her until I saw you interrogating some shopkeep and I saw your puck light up.” They swallow harshly, hard enough you can hear it, “She told me not to worry about it, and I didn’t...until she changed the plan. Look, what she’s planning is insane, and I want out. I tried talking her out of it, but she won’t budge. I feel like she’s left me no other choice. If she finds out I came to you, she’ll--she’ll kill me.” Their voice cracks at the end and you can tell they’re being sincere.

They’ve so far only mentioned you though, they must not know about your mandalorian hunting partner. You want to ask, but know better of it. You don’t want to risk giving up any information that you could use to your advantage instead.

“So why did you come to me then?” You tilt your helmet curiously with your question. Truly it made no sense. “Why didn’t you just hitch a ride off this planet as soon as you got the chance? No reason for you to be helping me.” “Well I -- she…it’s--” They struggle immensely trying to explain, and it immediately puts you on high alert. This was it, that hole in their story you were looking for. The confirmation you needed that this was a set up. A trap.

“Spit it out then.” You punch out the words through your modulator more aggressively than you intend. You hope it’s taken as a warning, a warning that you know exactly what they’re up to. And with the way they snap their gaze to you, you’re sure they get the message.

“Look, it's not what you think,” They wave a hand dismissively.

“What is it then?”

“It’s complicated…”

“Oh I bet it is. Now tell me why I shouldn’t shoot you here and now, you’re wasting my time.” You move a hand to the blaster in the holster on your thigh.

“Wait hold on! You aren’t listening, I told you it’s not like that--”

“Well you better start explaining, and quickly, because I’m losing my patience.”

“I…I--I love her, okay?” They blurt it out in a panic and it takes you by surprise. There was nothing in the galaxy that could have prepared you for that one. Of all the things they could have possibly said, that was definitely not what you were expecting. They hang their head defeatedly, “I love her...but--but she doesn’t--not me. She doesn’t even care about me, I’m nothing more than bantha fodder to her.” They scoff and shake their head, “She was willing to put my life at risk just so she could have a good time…”

“So you came to me as a sort of...revenge?” You tilt your helmet inquisitively. You’re trying so hard not to let the amusement drip from your voice. This was clearly very serious to them, but this all feels so childish to you. This whole situation was borderline hilarious.

“Do you want the information or not?” They cross their arms in front of their chest. You beckon them to continue with a slight wave of your hand, and settle both of yours back onto your belt. They give you a determined nod before they start spilling everything.

“She's going to intercept a trade, some kind of rare crystal--I don’t really know what they are, but I know they’re probably worth more than double the beskar on your shoulders.” “Clearly that's an exaggeration.” You scoff. Beskar, mandalorian iron, was one of the most legendary metals in the galaxy. To imply these “crystals” were worth double? Hearsay. “It’s not. Like I told you, I don’t know a lot, but I guess they were stolen after the fall of the Jedi Temple. I don’t even know where she got the information about the trade, they’re keeping the whole thing incredibly confidential.” The stranger keeps their own voice down, as quiet as they can while they explain this to you. You don’t know much about jedi, honestly you don’t know anything. Whatever these crystals were, they weren’t important to you, but you realize why your bounty has an interest in them, if what your hearing is true.

You take a step closer to the stranger in front of you, “Tell me everything you know about the trade.” And they do, they spill everything they know. It’s not a lot, but it’s everything you need.

“Some kind of black market trade to a private client--I don’t know anything about the guy, but that doesn't matter. They’re doing the exchange on the upper levels tomorrow night. Some kind of hotel or something-- it’s big, real fancy. I’ll give you the coordinates. The crystals are in a case. Yanu is planning on intercepting before the case trades hands. I don’t know exactly how she’s planning to pull it off, but you’ll see her. She's...hard to miss.” The stranger trails off before giving you the coordinates, which you punch into your vanbrance so you can find the location later.

“Thank you.” You nod to them, “You better get going, get off this planet and find somewhere to hang low for awhile.”

“I plan on it.” They toss back at you and begin to head off in their own direction, before pausing and looking over their shoulder, “Be careful, Yanu is dangerous. Even for a mandalorian.” And with that, they continue on their way without looking back.

You wait for them to leave, watch them disappear behind a building, and then wait a few seconds more before you activate the comm on your helmet.

“Hey, shiny. You there?” You call out through the static of the comm.

“You find something?” His voice rings back to you through the static.

“Yeah. Got some information, bounty’s going to intercept a trade. Some kind of rare crystal or something.” Maker, just repeating this stuff out loud sounds so ridiculous. Maybe you did get conned.

“Rare crystals? You got that from the jeweler?” He sounds dubious, but intrigued. How were you even going to begin to explain the situation to this tin can.

“It’s a long story. Rendezvous back at the ship, I’ll fill you in.”

“Copy.” You hear his end of the comm click off and you begin your trek back to the ship.

--------------------------------------------

You’re perched up high in the immaculate hotel lobby, somewhere high on one of the various balconies, out of view from the bustling travelers beneath you. To call this a hotel lobby felt...disingenuous. Truly it was something else. Yeah it was the main lobby and lounge for a hotel, but it was unbelievably fancy. Marble, decorated flooring, chandeliers, huge windows, decor unmatched by anything on the lower levels. Large and impressive staircases surrounding both sides of the main desk area, It even sported a small cocktail bar in the lounge area. Staying here alone was a symbol of status, and it showed.

The patrons below were just as decorated as the impressive area around them. Flashy jewelry and flowing fabrics. It always felt strange, seeing the stark disconnect between classes especially since the fall of the empire, and even more so especially on Coruscant. The glittering and extravagant spectacle of it all, it felt so fake to you. You knew the harsh realities of the galaxy, that no amount of glistening gems or extravagance could cover up.

“You sure this isn’t a trap?” The mandalorian’s voice crackles over your helmet’s comm.

“No, but it’s the best chance we got.” You admit. It could very well be a trap, a set up, but that was a risk you were willing to take. Even if this wasn’t a trap, you know she probably knows you're here.

You couldn’t see your mandalorian hunting partner from where you were, he's perched up somewhere away from you, watching the lounge area through his pulse rifle scope. Where though? You have no idea. you both agreed it would be best if he stayed out of sight, since as far as you knew, your bounty was only aware of you, and only you. If you have even the slightest chance of catching her off guard, you definitely want to use that to your advantage.

You notice down below a well dressed Pantoran gentleman leaning against a wall. Nothing outwardly paints him as suspicious, but with the way he’s scanning the crowd, and seems to be lingering for no reason catches your attention. Not to mention the fact that you somehow didn’t even notice him walk in. You continue to watch him. He adjusts his clothes, crosses his arms, shifts his weight from one leg to the other, nothing odd or alarming--until you see him fiddle with something on his wrist and hold it up to his face.

You click a switch on the side of your helmet to zoom in, focusing on him. Oh yeah, he was definitely speaking into a comm unit. You glance down a little lower, and notice the hint of a holster under his jacket, only revealed when the edge of his jacket rides up when he speaks into his wrist. Now he definitely looks suspicious.

“Hey, you see that Pantoran over there by the window?” You ask over the comm, hoping the mandalorian notices the same thing you do.

“Yeah. He’s got a friend at the bar.” you look over, and sure enough, another well dressed man is sitting at the bar, speaking into his wrist. Sitting at the bar, but no drink. A pretty big red flag for you. He was much bigger than the one leaning against a wall across the lobby, built, and clearly strong.

“Extra security, you think?” You ask.

“Probably something like that.” You can hear him shift slightly over the comm, as he adjusts his position.

“No case though. Might be the buyer.” You know the mandalorian you're working with is probably thinking the same thing. At this point you're just trying to make conversation. Not that the silence bothered you at all. It was just...habit? It’s been a long time since you worked with anyone else, but your old habits still get kicked up every now and again. When you and your late husband would go on hunts together, there wasn’t a second of silence between the two of you. It definitely made the job a lot more enjoyable, when the conversations weren’t just strategy and business, but they were filled with playful banter and jokes too. You can't help the snort you let out when you remember the dumbest joke he once told you.

“What’s so funny?” The mandalorian’s gruff voice asks through the static.

“It’s--,” You shake your head lightly and let out another breathy chuckle, “Here, how do you unlock doors on Kashyyyk?”

“Is that really what your laughing at right---”

“A woo-kiee. Get it?” You cut him off, and immediately laugh at how ridiculous it is. Hearing his sigh over the comm only makes it that much better. You remember your response being about the same when you heard it for the first time.

“Hey, pay attention. I got eyes on the case.” he cuts in through your chuckling sternly, and it snaps you back to reality.

You peer down below you, and there, coming through the entrance. Another well dressed man is striding through, a shining silver case at his side. The man at the bar stands, and the one leaning against the wall, begins to make his stride to meet the one with the case. Bingo. That's the trade. You’re searching all over for your bounty, but you don’t see her anywhere. Did she abandon her heist? Did she decide it wasn’t worth it with you after her? Her partner, the one you met in the alley yesterday, told you she would be hard to miss, so why is it you’re not seeing her? The closer together the two men get to exchanging the case the faster your thoughts are racing.

Then suddenly they all come to a halt when a deafening blaster shot zips through the crowd from seemingly nowhere, immediately there are panicked screams and the man holding the case drops to the ground in an instant.

Suddenly, it’s chaos.

Patrons of the hotel lobby are scrambling all over, every which way, screams echoing through the shimmering entryway as disorder reigns beneath you. Did...did the mandalorian just shoot him?

“What the kriff are you doing?!” You shout over the comm, while you quickly scramble to jump over the banister of the balcony you’re on. You aren’t sure why your first instinct is to go for the case, but it is. You’re rushing down to the ground level, trying not to get caught up in the swarm of panicked people surrounding you.

“Wasn’t me.” You hear the shuffle over the comm as he starts to make his move. Well if it wasn’t him then that must mean--she was here.

You keep pushing your way through the crowd the best you can, picking up the pace at the realization that your bounty is close-- when another blast rings through the air. You hear a thud, and see the man who was at the bar earlier on the floor, face down. Between people, you barely catch sight of the silver case lying on the floor next to him. You get shoved harshly from someone on your left, it knocks you off balance for just a second, and when you get your footing back, you finally see her.

It's quick, she darts in to grab the case, picking it up off the floor without a break in her step. And then she's sprinting. You immediately start to sprint after her, aggressively shoving anyone out of your way as you chase her. Luckily she's easy to spot, her partner was right, she's hard to miss. Her bright pink skin, fiery red hair, and even brighter jumpsuit stood out easily in the crowd.

“She’s on the move!” You struggle to get the words out as you fight through the sea of people all swarming to escape the turmoil. There's a break in the crowd, and you use it as an opportunity to close as much space between you and her as possible. She glances back at you over her shoulder and gives you a smirk, before she whips out her blaster and fires twice at you.

Sparks erupt as it hits you once in the chest, and again in the shoulder, the brutal force of it causes you to lose your footing and stumble. The beskar protects you, but the impact is still hard and painful. You quickly try to shake it off and continue on your pursuit, the adrenaline from the chase making the pain dull quicker than it would otherwise, but then another shot, in the same shoulder, combined with someone colliding into you at the same time, and you fall to the ground with a rough grunt through your helmet. You can’t see anything but strangers’ feet passing by you, kriff you need to get it together, and quickly. You cannot let her escape. The shock from the blast still rings through your whole arm, your fingers are tingly and numb, pins and needles stabbing into you while you try to pick yourself off the ground as quickly as you can. You try to ignore it but--maker, the sharpness radiating from it was serious.

You hear another blast just as you get to your feet, immediately followed by the loud crash of glass shattering. You look up ahead of you just in time to watch your bounty jump through the now shattered window, as glass continues to fall around her and all over the lobby. Light catches every tiny shard causing it to glitter as if it were part of the expensive decor. You rush your way over to the destroyed window and peer down, to watch as she takes off in a speeder, case in hand.

“Dank farrik!,” you shout out through clenched teeth, and angrily pound your fist into the edge of the window. You drop down from the open window onto the balcony beneath you with an aggressive THUNK. “She got away, she's heading towards the port on a speeder.”

“I’m on it.” Is all he says back to you. You’re about to ask for an explanation, but you don’t end up needing to, because you see him soar into that direction. The lights from the city reflect off his armour as he bolts through the air with his rising phoenix. Well, that definitely wasn’t fair.

You’re desperately trying to come up with a plan, there's no way you can catch up to her in time on foot--

But then, you have the most stupid, most crazy, most riduclous idea you think you have ever come up with.

You look over the railing of the balcony and take a deep breath. Fuck, you were really going to do this weren’t you?

Yep.

You hold your breath when you jump off, your heart jumping to your throat, as you fall through the air.

You roughly catch onto the side of a speeder passing underneath you, and it dips dramatically with your weight. The person driving makes a loud noise in distress and you fear your going to pull the whole thing right out of the air. Your grip is slipping from your left hand as you struggle to keep hold, your feet dangling in the air below you. Speeders are zipping past you, beeping loudly as they pass your disruption. You’re terrified you're going to fall.

This was it. This was by far the dumbest thing you could have possibly done.

“Sixty thousand credits...sixty thousand credits...sixty thousand kriffing! credits!” You’re repeating the amount over and over to yourself through gritted teeth as you attempt to haul yourself up over the side of the speeder. You get one arm hooked firmly over the side of the passenger door, and you're struggling to pull your legs up, when the driver shouts at you in some foreign language you don't understand. They swerve viciously to the right and the sudden shift in force causes you to slip, smacking the bottom of your helmet against the side of the door.

“Cut that out!” You shout angrily at them and you attempt to pull yourself up again, ignoring them as they continue to shout at you panicked and angry. They jerk the speeder again, even harsher this time, and you get whipped back against the side of it, causing you to lose grip in your left hand and let go of the side of it. Now you’re barely hanging on with one hand, struggling to keep your grip while you dangle in the air as the driver speeds up and continues to veer dramatically to shake you off. Other neighboring speeders beep loudly and swerve dangerously close to your flailing limbs, the rush of air from them passing by only making holding on that much more difficult. If you don’t fall off this thing, you’re definitely getting hit by a different one.

One more rough jolt from the diver and your gloved hand can’t hold on any longer. Wind rushes from your lungs as you start to fall, but you quickly hit the whipcord thrower on your vambrace, and a long length of fibercord shoots out above you, just barely grappling onto the bottom of the speeder you just fell from. The driver yells loudly as the whole speeder tips sharply with the sudden yank of your cord. The sudden halt from the cord pulling taut, yanks you aggressively, and combined with the weight of your beskar helmet, sends a sharp pain through your neck and makes you dizzy.

You shake your head, and try to straighten up, gripping the fibercord with both hands, only to be met head on with blinding headlights from an oncoming speeder. Your breath catches in your throat as you brace for the oncoming impact, the blaring beep ringing through your helmet--but the speeder manages to swerve away from you just in the nick of time, causing your fibercord to sway, swinging you along with it as your grip on for dear life.

You clench your jaw tight as you haul yourself up, climbing the fibercord attached to your wrist, slowly reeling yourself closer and closer to the speeder above you. Some bounty hunter you were. The mandalorian probably had no trouble flying off after your bounty with his jetpack, and here you were swinging wildly from some poor soul’s speeder like an absolute fool.

You continue to haul your way up until you get to the end of your fibercord, and grab back onto the side of the speeder, wasting no time to haul yourself up and over the side of it before there's any further mishaps. The diver continues to yell at you loudly in their forien language, fear lining every inch of it. You grunt as you finally make it into the passenger’s seat, and they start shouting at you louder, growing more and more desperate to shoo you off.

“Let me drive.” You gruff out, ignoring what you assume to be their pleas. Only, they don't move, just continue to shout at you, and honestly you’re getting irritated. You’ve wasted enough time dealing with this, you need to catch up to the mandalorian and your bounty--quickly.

You pull out your blaster and point it at them. The driver shuts their mouth immediately at the sight of the blaster and you can see them gulp harshly. “Move...Let. me. drive.” You enunciate every word, dropping your voice to a threatening level. They make a small noise of distress before nodding once. Good, they understand basic. Or at the very least, they understand the blaster. You grab onto the steering controls with one hand and you awkwardly and unceremoniously trade places with the driver.

“Hold on tight.” you shout over to your unwilling passenger. The second you get a firm hold of the controls, you immediately accelerate, speeding up as fast as the small civilian speeder would go. You can hear the driver next to you muttering what you assume to be prayers under their breath, while they clutch to their seat with all of their strength. They gasp and cry out every time you make a risky maneuver. You're pretty sure you break every flying law Coruscant has, as you zip through lanes of traffic, cutting through with no regard to anyone else flying around you. The aggravated beeps of other drivers fall on deaf ears. You can’t be bothered, you need to catch up.

You see the mandalorian first, following close behind the bounty, dodging the occasional blaster fire she shoots out blindly at him. She's heading right for the dock, she must have a ship lined up and ready to go. Maybe if you’re quick enough you can cut her off from the front. The mandalorian was already right behind her, it was the perfect plan. There's no way she could escape if you pull this off. You quickly veer the speeder to the side and make your way to the opposite side of the dock, picking up as much speed as you can.

The driver in your passenger seat screams as you come barreling down towards the platform of the dock without slowing down. You pull up tight on the controls and level out the best you can, scraping the bottom of the speeder as you slide along the platform. Sparks fly around you, before you come to a sharp halt. You immediately jump out over the side, and start sprinting in the direction of your bounty without a word to the driver.

You can’t see your bounty yet, or the mandalorian for that matter, there's too much clutter along the platform. Crates, supply lifts, workers, and ships are scattered all over, but you know what direction she was heading, so you don’t stop running. Picking up as much speed as you possibly can, blaster in hand, you’re ready. You will not let anything stand in your way.

There was no way she was going to escape.

You hear blaster fire to your left, and see worker droids fleeing the area. You round a corner around a large stack of supply crates when you finally catch sight of her in a wide open landing area. Her neon jumpsuit makes her easy to spot from the rest of the clutter. She doesn’t seem to notice you as she continues sprinting towards what you assume to be her ship, case still in hand, firing behind her at what you can only expect to be your mandalorian hunting partner.

This was it, this was your chance. Your blood is rushing in your ears, you’re locked onto her, the only thing you’re focused on as you continue to barrel towards her. She was close enough, you could catch her by surprise and tackle her to the ground, and the mandalorian could catch up to support. No mistakes--no hesitation--you have to go for it--

But as soon as you take the leap--

PANG

Your vision goes black, a deafening ring goes echoing through your helmet that shifts into a horrible, loud, and awful white noise.

Then, a pain. An absolutely excruciating, sharp, pounding pain, surrounding your entire head. The pressure feels unbearable, the ache searing behind your eyes. Your wincing at the pain only causing it to grow.

You groan gruffly as things slowly come back to you one at a time. You flex your fingers and find them pressed against some kind of metal beneath you--you were facedown on the ground. How did you end up on the ground? You go to lift yourself up, but your vision is blurry and fading in and out. You manage to sit up slightly, and it takes you a minute to realize he's shouting at you.

“Get up! She’s getting away, we gotta get back to the ship.” He grabs you by your arm and roughly helps you to your feet. But? You’re so confused, what just happened? Your head is still pounding, and you feel like you could fall over any second, but you try your best to keep steady.

“Wh-...what happened?” You barely manage to get the words out as the both of you start to run towards your ship. There’s no way it was the quarry...was it? She wasn’t even looking at you, she didn’t even see you. Right?

“You ran into my line of fire, now keep up or we’ll lose her!” he shouts over his shoulder to you, over the noise of the bustling dock. Wait...ran into his line of fire? The realization hits you like a ton of duracrete.

“You kriffing shot me?!” The anger building in your chest sobers you up almost instantly. This idiot actually shot you! You would have had the bounty, she was right there. You practically had her in your grasp, but this absolute, bantha brained--bucket headed---fool, let her get away because he SHOT YOU in the back of the head.

“You jumped in my line of fire.” He snaps back angrily at you. He sounds just as furious as you are. Not sure why--he's not the one that got shot in the back of the head.

“You idiot! You’re lucky I'm wearing beskar, you could have killed me!” You’re shouting only increasing in both volume and fury as the two of you make it to the ship. The mandalorian hits a control on his vambrace to lower the ramp as you approach.

“No, I think you’re lucky you’re wearing beskar.” He challenges, as he quickly makes his way up the ramp and through the hull. Oh you’re gonna kill him. Snap his neck and grab the bounty yourself.

“Are you really that dim?!” You stomp through the hull right behind him, shouting up the ladder as he climbs to get to the cockpit, “Do you not look where you’re shooting? I can’t believe my bounty is getting away, because you shot me! Like a dumbass!” You grip the rungs of the ladder with such force and you stomp your way up, pure resentment filling every single movement as you make it up to the cockpit, “You kriffing moof milker!”

He’s ignoring you now. Slamming down buttons and initiating take off as quickly as he can in hopes of catching up to the bounty as you continue to sling insults at him. You angrily sit in the copilot’s seat and buckle in as the ship begins to ascend.

“I nearly had her! You tin-headed moron!” Despite the quietness inside the ship compared to the dock outside, you’re still shouting at him just as loud. Your irritation for this man is at an all time high, and that's saying something considering how often he seems to bring you to the edge of murder on the daily. All of the times he had gotten in your way this entire hunt, all of the times you felt like he was slowing you down, all of the times you felt like you were better off doing things yourself, and now this? Ohhh you hate him. You cannot wait to capture this bounty, collect your reward, and be on your way. You relish the day you get to turn away and never see this shiny mandalorian ever again.

The ship jerks roughly as the mandalorian rushes the ship through the air, twisting and turning wildly to avoid colliding with the heavy air traffic of Coruscant. Struggling to catch up with your bounty’s ship as it barrels towards the atmosphere. Every rough jolt of the ship only feeds into your seething rage.

“Kriff! Did a wampa teach you to fly? Get it together, dumbass!” He continues to ignore you as he flies, like he can’t even hear you, and maker, it pisses you off. The two of you are gaining on the bounty’s ship, quickly closing the distance between her ship and yours. She’s barely managing to dodge around other ships making their way through air traffic, before it looks like she's going to directly collide with one. She doesn’t slow down and she accelerates towards it, until she fires. Blasting right through the ship and flying through the smoke and debris.

The mandalorian tries his best to swerve out of the way of oncoming debris, jerking roughly to one side, which sends you slamming into the side console despite your seatbelt, but a large chunk still collides with the side of the ship. It’s like deja-vu when the ship gets knocked over in air, the rough shaking and awful clang of metal on metal, alarms blaring deafeningly, reminding you of your wreck nearly a week ago.

“IDIOT!” You shriek over blaring alarms as the mandalorian struggles to get the ship to straighten back out in the air. “Are you trying to kill us?! First you shoot me, and now you’re trying to get us stranded on Coruscant! Do you know how much repairs cost on this maker forsaken planet?!” The ship is rattling violently as he attempts to break through the atmosphere after the quarry, and you’re not sure you’re going to make it. “How did I end up stuck working a job with such a blurg-brained-no-good discount droid?!” You have to shout even louder to even be slightly audible over the blaring alarms, and brutal clunking and rattling of the ship, as she struggles and groans to break the atmosphere.

You are almost positive the whole thing is going to come apart before you can make it into open space, but much to your surprise, the ship manages to stay together and make it through the atmosphere--just in time to watch your bounty jump into hyperspace. The stretch and blink of her ship disappearing is the final blow to your already shattered mood.

“Farrik!” You shout and slam your fist into your armrest. You turn to face the mandalorian next to you, with every intention of flinging more insults his way, when you see him furiously flicking controls on the pain panel. There’s no way--he's not actually planning on trying to make the jump is he? This ship is on the verge of falling apart, you won’t make it. This whole ship will be ripped to shreds with you still in it.

“What are you doing?! We won’t make it! You’re gonna kill us!” Your shouts fall on deaf ears, with the way he’s ignoring you it’s like you haven't said anything at all, like you aren’t even there. You watch in horror as he tightly takes hold of the controls and pulls back, forcing the ship to make the jump. You hold your breath, and the ship jolts and rattles violently, as stars start to smear past the cockpit viewport. Ear-splitting alarms still echoing throughout the ship, as you somehow make your way into hyperspace--

That is until you’re being ripped right back out. The whole ship jerks forward with such force that both you and the mandalorian end up colliding with the control panel with an accompanying grunt. You hear a bunch of things shift in the ship's hull and you pray to the maker the kid is okay in there. You come to a sudden halt and everything in the ship powers down, until you are left floating, sitting in the cockpit in complete darkness, minus a few red emergency lights. There's a slow whirr of all the ship's machinery powering down, until there's nothing. Complete silence fills the cockpit.

“You…,” You start to break the silence, starting off quietly, barely above a murmur, until you gradually raise your volume back to an aggravated yell, “You absolute MORON! Bantha fodder! Moof-milking asshole!”

He says nothing, continues to ignore you as if you don’t even exist as he slowly gets up from the pilots seat and goes to open a panel in the back of the cockpit.

You murmur to yourself again, pressing one of your hands to the front of your visor in pure exasperation,“Di’kut…,” You shake your head, before turning to shout at him again, “Di’kutla!” The mandalorian flinches slightly, so subtly you think your eyes might be playing tricks on you in the dark. Oh, but that fuels you, all it took was that slight movement, and you know that must have struck him differently.

You’re not fluent in Mando’a by any means, but you know what you learned from your late husband. And insults were his favorite. They were the first thing you learned, and the thing you’re most familiar with. And now that you know those might actually affect the idiot you're working with? You start throwing out every insult you know, “Utreekov shabiir!” Empty headed screw up, “Gar mirsh solus!” you’re a dumbass, “Di’kut!” Idiot. You say each one with such a passion, because maker knows you mean it.

After messing with the control panel, the lights come back on, and you hear the low hum of machinery powering back up. He doesn’t acknowledge you as he walks back over to his seat and starts flicking switches to power up the ships thrusters.

“We’re going to have to stop on the next closest planet for repairs.” He finally speaks up, but it's your turn to ignore him. You’re furious, this was the worst hunting experience you have ever had, and it was all his fault. Your bounty was long gone by now, probably halfway across the galaxy. All that time on Coruscant? Wasted. He doesn’t say anything when he gets up again and leaves you alone in the cockpit, probably to go check on the kid.

You sit there alone angrily staring out as the ship slowly crawls its way along the stars. Seething in your own frustration. At this point, you don’t know if you’ll be able to make it to the next closest planet without killing him first. You hate him, you absolutely hate that shiny, tin-brained, fool of a mandalorian. *** Previous - MASTER - Next

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bi-naesala · 3 years

Text

Fox isn’t surprised when he finds someone inside his shitty apartment when he opens the door, not when that someone is Thorn, since he had insisted he gave him and the rest of the Guard - or former Guard you should say - squad a key to it, just as a security measure since he insists on living alone and barely contacts them.

He just went out that day to get some groceries - yes, now instead of guarding assholes for life he just does mundane things like that one - but still, he could’ve warned him that he was going to come.

“Hey, Fox!” he says, smiling warmly at him. Even as the war went on, that smile has never lost its particular shine. How he managed is still a mystery to Fox.

“Thorn,” the other greets him, stepping inside. Despite everything he can’t help an amused huff seeing Thorn all comfortable on his couch. “I see you’ve made yourself at home already.”

“Well, you know, since I was all alone in here…” Thorn replies, before getting up and dragging Fox into a hug. “I’ve missed you, vod.”

Fox doesn’t like how easily he melts at the contact, but by now he’s gotten used to it. He receives so little physical affection that when he actually does it’s so intense that he almost cries - almost.

“I’ve missed you too.”

Since he’s there, Thorn makes himself useful by helping him with the groceries, putting them in the places they belong to.

“So… wanna come to 79’s later?” he asks, closing the fridge but not before taking a bottle of water and drink it like this was his home and he could do anything he wants with no repercussions. It’s all Fox’s fault: he let him get away with it at first in the name of hospitality, and now it’s gotten out of control. Oh well, it’s not like he can order him to stop now - he doesn’t have a rank anymore.

A sigh leaves his lips then. This isn’t the first time Thorn has attempted something like this, but by now he should know how it’s going to end.

“No.”

If his dry answer fazes Thorn at all, he doesn’t show any sign of it.

“Okay. How about tomorrow?”

Fox shakes his head. “No.”

Now Thorn’s enthusiasm begins to look a bit deflated, but he still doesn’t lose hope.

“Would you like to come any day this week?”

“No.”

This time a sigh leaves Thorn’s lips.

“Alright maybe let’s not go to 79’s,” he says, “How about somewhere else? Dex? You used to love Dex! Or we could go to this nice place Thire told me about--”

“Thorn.”

“Yes?”

“I’m not coming.” Fox gestures to the other. “If you want to have fun go, I’m not stopping you. Just leave me out of it.”

Thorn takes a deep breath.

“Why are you so determined to be stuck in your little hole?!” he asks, exasperation overflowing at every word, “You have the right to have a life! Nobody’s going to deny you that anymore!”

Unlike Thorn, Fox isn’t a fool; he knows that his situation is not as easy as he makes it out to be: even if the Clones Rights Bill has been approved, it’ll take some time before the rest of the galaxy will see them as actual people, and Fox himself isn’t also exactly loved by his vode.

He doesn’t blame them: he was the one who raised his blaster against one of his own; he didn’t kill him only because he had missed his heart by a small margin.

If he wasn’t exactly well-loved before - it goes with being a Corrie, as they called it - from that point on he became absolutely hated. He doesn’t blame them nor he tries to justify himself, even as he has to admit he doesn’t have many memories of that day in the first place; still, he’s not a coward and he refuses to hide behind such a pathetic excuse.

The thing is this: Fox doesn’t belong anywhere anymore; he knows there isn’t a place in which he’s welcome.

It’s fine, solitude isn’t that bad, even if it wasn’t supposed to be part of any of their lives, but he’s gotten used to it.

Besides…

“I do get out. In fact, I just came home after I got out.” It’s a weak retort, but someone has to make that point. As expected in fact, Thorn’s completely unimpressed with that comeback.

“Grocery shopping doesn’t count.”

“Not just that,” Fox weakly mutters.

He’s not lying though! Two days ago he got out to meet with Bly! Sure, they have avoided going to 79’s or any other clone created space, but they still saw each other, they still went for a walk, they still talked, they still acted like friends.

Of his old batch, Bly is the one Fox sees most; it used to be Ponds, but then… Fox doesn’t want to think about that. Apparently Bly has forgotten that his brothers can take care of themselves and has the need to be act like a mother even when that’s totally unnecessary - nevermind how relieved Fox feels when he comes visiting, that’s totally unrelated.

With Wolffe he mostly speaks via comms; they guy is still so busy trying to find a place for the Wolfpack, and although Fox doesn’t blame him - he would’ve done the same for the Guard - he’s glad that his men managed to find it on their own.

Hell, even Cody makes himself known from time to time, even though it’s mostly by sending holos from his most recent travels - yes, he always said that he wanted to explore the galaxy after the war, and now the son of a bantha is truly doing it.

Excluding his batch, the only people that remember his existence are Stone and Thire, who make a point to visit when they can, and Thorn, who is the one who bothers him most often.

No matter how you put it, in the end Fox is very much alone.

It’s just self-preservation, nothing more nothing less, really: the Coruscant Guard has always been in a weird spot, because they’ve been looked down by the majority of the vode for not fighting frontline.

Now, with the discovery of Palpatine’s true identity, things have only gotten worse because they’ve been suspected of working with him, as if they haven’t been simply other pawns for him to manipulate. Not that they have ever been accused directly - except from some drunk vod at 79’s - but it was easy drawing conclusions with the way they were looked at, or the general distrust that the vode reserved them, like they could still be working against them.

At least Fox has managed to shift the blame around so that instead of “the Guard worked with Palpatine” people go around saying that only Fox did. His reputation is already damaged beyond repair, so why not? At least the others will get that second chance at life that he knows he wouldn’t get either way.

Deep down, very deep down, he envies them, because they truly are free, unlike him, who will be chained to his past crimes until the day he dies and probably even after - he shivers just thinking about how he’ll be remembered by the future generation, if he’ll be remembered at all.

Still, it all becomes meaningless in front of the pure joy he feels when they narrate him the last shenanigans they get themselves involved in. They are truly free and happy now, and Fox is happy for them.

… If sometimes he wishes their places were switched, that he was the one who could live freely as his heart desires, well, that’s something only for him to know and keep secret.

Sometimes he thought about confiding in Thorn, the only one he’d ever consider burdening with this stuff, but every time he decides to do he quickly changes his mind; it’s not worth it.

Now more than ever he wants to scream, not even at Thorn in particular, just scream, as if all his anguish and problems would disappear just with that. It would be too good to be true

It’s not that he doesn’t want to get out, it’s just that he can’t. It’s not safe, it’s not…

He’s afraid of all the stares he’d get, of all the words that would be thrown at him. Normally it wouldn’t phase him - he’s used to it - but day by day he’s becoming more susceptible to his emotions again; it almost makes him miss that time when he was so detached to seem almost a droid. At least he could get things done back then, not like now that he has to mentally prepare himself to go out at least one day before.

At least now he’s free, however, isn’t he?

Technically he could go wherever he wants, could do whatever he wants, if only… No, he can’t. People wouldn’t be happy to have him around.

Thorn tries again. He’s gotten so close to Fox that if he was someone else Fox would’ve already tried to put some distance between them, but with Thorn he’s used to it.

“Fox, what’s wrong?”

“I can’t. I--” Kark, his voice is breaking.

“Nobody’s stopping you. In fact, the only one stopping you is yourself, trust me,” Thorn reassures him. “I know you still feel guilty, but most vode have gotten over it. In the end we were all in a shitty situation. Besides, you did hesitate in the end, didn’t you? That’s why Fives is still alive and why we discovered who the Sith Lord was.”

What Thorn is saying makes sense, but this doesn’t mean that it’s easy for Fox to accept it; after so much time spent with self-hatred as his only constant companion, he can’t act like he never thought any bad things about himself. Besides, he doubts the rest of the vode really have forgiven him.

Still, Thorn wouldn’t lie about this, because as much as the fool still insists on wanting to cheer him up, he knows that he won’t accomplish anything by telling lies - actually, he’d make things even worse - and there’s still the fact that deep down Fox wants to leave his place, wants to do something with his life, but… it’s scary.

“Even if I decide to leave, it’ll take time before I can organize anything,” he says, because it’s so much easier saying that rather than to admit that he’s the one who needs time.

These last months have been hard for everybody, but nobody talks about how especially hard they’ve been for Fox. He’s just so tired of everything.

Yes, that’s it, he’s tired. If he could he’d disappear without leaving any trace, but he knows that if he does someone would come searching for him; in the end there are some people that care about him, but at this point Fox wishes they didn’t because it would make his situation easier: he wouldn’t hold onto that love he still scarcely receives anymore, he wouldn’t suffer because it’s still so little.

Whose fault is that anyway? It’s his. It’s him the one who keeps pushing people away. It’s just that he craves and hates the attention at the same time, a contradiction that he still hasn’t sorted out.

He’s so focused on trying not to lose it in front of Thorn that he barely notices him moving them to the couch. He does feel it however when he closes his arms around him, when he kisses his forehead, when he says that it’s fine, that it’s ok, that he’s safe.

Fox has gone so long without allowing this kind of softness in his life, but damn he missed it. If he began to let people closer again it might happen more often, but how is he supposed to do it?

He doesn’t know how much time passes before he gathers enough strength to speak. He won’t lie: staying like this almost makes him want to curl into a ball and fall asleep in the security of Thorn’s arms, but it’s something that Fox would rather avoid, at least for now. Maybe in the future he might be able to let go and actually do it.

“I want to leave,” he eventually says.

“Leave to where?” Thorn asks.

“I don’t know, but I want to travel.”

“We can do that,” Thorn replies, smiling at Fox, “We can do whatever we want.”

Yes it’s true, they can…

“You think Thire and Stone would want to come? It would be nice having the squad back together.”

“I’m sure they’d love it.”

Fox doesn’t know if Thorn’s actually right, but it’s reassuring to hear him say that.

For now he’ll bask in his brother’s warmth for a bit longer. They can plan another time - there’s no rush after all.

The idea of the outside isn’t something he’s still entirely comfortable with, but Fox would also be lying if he said that he isn’t looking forward to exploring it. Coruscant is pretty and all… but he’s grown tired of it.

He might still not have found his place in the new word, but who knows, maybe there’s hope for him yet.

#commander fox #commander thorn #sw #tcw #star wars #the clone wars #my fics #mine

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spacedancer1701 · 3 years

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The Night Before Christmas (Or: Don’t Start Without Me!)

A Star Trek Fic

Fandoms: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series (TOS), Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (AOS) Pairing: McCoy x Original Female Character (Dr. Jennifer Hope) Characters: Dr. Leonard “Bones” McCoy, Jenny Hope Rating/Warnings: Explicit (M) Tags: Romance, Love, Smut and Fluff, Explicit Sexual Content Word Count: 4,747

Read it on AO3: The Night Before Christmas

Summary:

This is a very private story Hope and McCoy decided to share after I received several requests expressing interest in their more intimate affairs. 😉

Or simply put: a (missing) Hope and McCoy smut scene.

(Although you don’t have to be familiar with my other Hope/McCoy stories to enjoy this little one-shot.)

A little present 🎁 for everyone who mourns the lack of smutty details in my other Hope/McCoy fics. Merry Christmas! 🎄

And to all of you who don’t celebrate Christmas – don’t worry, it’s not what this story is really about. It’s basically just a ‘naughty’ Hope/McCoy chapter.

You have been warned. 🙈😅 Enjoy! ❤️

Jenny was trying to get comfortable in the bed that suddenly seemed far too big for her alone. She couldn't believe she was spending tonight without Leonard. Especially, since they hadn’t seen much of each other for the past two weeks, either, and the evening had begun so promising.

It was Christmas Eve, and after Jenny had helped putting the finishing touches on the decorations for the big party tomorrow, she and Leonard had shared a lovely festive dinner with their friends, who’d sent them ‘home’ early with knowing smirks and not so subtle remarks, after the captain and Uhura had unanimously decided that they’d had enough of watching them ‘shamelessly making out’ all evening.

The Enterprise crew had had a tough month, with lots of adventure and surprises, to put it mildly, and Leonard had practically been living in sickbay, while Jenny had also had her hands full between work and helping prepare for the big Christmas party that had become the annual highlight for everyone aboard. Even the crewmembers who didn’t actually celebrate Christmas, just because it was one of those lovely human traditions that reminded them of Earth, or Earth colonies, which were home to most of the crew.

After dinner, Jenny and Leonard had all but raced along the ship’s corridors, with Leonard using the time in the turbolift to wrap her in his loving arms and make the most thrilling promises about all the things he was going to do to her once they were back in their quarters.

“Don’t start without me,” he’d murmured suggestively in her ear, before slipping back out the door to quickly go get his PADD, which he had accidentally left in sickbay, making her soak her panties with just those few words in that incredibly sexy voice of his.

That had been more than two hours ago, as not even a minute after he’d gone, he’d called her on her comm to let her know that he’d arrived just in time for yet another emergency, the disappointment in his voice easily matching her own. Clearly, she hadn’t been the only one hardly able to contain herself anymore.

For some time, Jenny had tried to distract herself by getting ready for his return. Tarting herself up, as her grandmother would have called it, indulging in a real water shower and slipping on the Christmassy underwear Nyota had talked her into buying during a recent starbase shopping spree. A silky shirt and matching panties that were sure to bring out the tiger in Leonard.

Then she’d made herself some tea and settled down on the couch with her PADD to read for a while, but soon found that there wasn’t much fun in wearing a seductive outfit without Leonard around to appreciate it. Particularly as, with his soft drawl and all the enticing promises still fresh in her ear, if anything, her arousal had only grown since he’d walked out the door.

So, with a sympathetic sigh, knowing that the poor doctor didn’t have that luxury and was, by now, most likely totally focused on whatever medical emergency had arisen, Jenny slid under the covers, closed her eyes, and conjured up his sweet, handsome face. Sex was certainly not what their love was built on, but she couldn't deny that making love to him had become a sweet addiction, and that they both got kind of restless and on edge if it had been too long. Which it definitely had.

Making love to Leonard was wonderful beyond description. Gentle and hot, tender and exciting, comforting and fulfilling. He was everything a woman could wish for, and he was all hers. He’d also been the first to show her how enjoyable physical love could be, tenderly and patiently guiding and teaching her, and it had become even better ever since.

The devotion with which he ‘worshipped her body’, as he called it, knowing exactly where and how she loved to be touched most, yet always searching for new ways to pleasure her, got her all flustered just thinking about. Not to mention the way he responded to her touches, making pleasuring him at least as rewarding as letting him drive her to ecstatic heights with his incredibly nimble fingers, lips and tongue.

Smiling to herself, Jenny thought how they’d still be ‘at it’ when they were both old and grey. She couldn't imagine the day when she wouldn’t find the doctor hot and wildly attractive anymore. One of his slow smiles, an almost indiscernible wink, or the gentle sound of his voice saying her name were all she needed to make her go weak in the knees.

Unnoticed, Jenny’s hand had found its way inside her panties, looking to ease the heat that thoughts of Leonard never failed to spark. She hadn’t wanted to ‘start without him’, but now she found she just couldn't stop. Gently writhing and slowly rolling her hips under the touch of her own fingers, she imagined Leonard expertly bringing her to the brink. But no matter how hard she tried, there was no way she could draw out her pleasure and tease herself as skilfully as he could. Instead, she was tumbling over the edge almost instantly.

Tensing up, Jenny came with a low moan, unable to pull her fingers away just yet, as the short relief immediately turned into desperate need again. Leonard always teased her about how, once he got her going, she just couldn't seem to get enough, taking great pleasure in the fact. And just picturing his enraptured gaze as he took her from one orgasm to another, made her climax again. And again. Until her fingers were too wet to apply enough friction, helplessly slipping around inside her drenched panties, and Jenny fell asleep, completely drained.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Tired and disappointed to have missed out on what had promised to become his best ‘Night Before Christmas’ yet, McCoy quietly slipped into his quarters to the titillating sight of his darling Hope fast asleep, bedcovers kicked aside, fingers wedged inside her panties, leaving no doubt about what she’d been up to before falling asleep and kindling instant desire in him.

Of course, he knew that women did that all the time. He was a doctor, dammit! And he’d been a lover before Hope was even born. Or would have been born, if she hadn’t already been born three centuries ago. God, the view made him lose all power of coherent thought, while the bulge in his pants was threatening to burst through the material. And, of course, he’d fantasised about her doing it while thinking of him long before they’d become lovers. But Hope actually lying here like this, a breath-taking picture of silky red and lacy/fluffy white, cheeks still flushed a rosy pink from exertion, was by far the hottest thing he’d ever seen.

Picturing her in the act of pleasuring herself, McCoy didn’t doubt for a minute that she’d been thinking about him. He knew only too well that it had been him who’d taught her the physical pleasures of love in the first place. A fact she loved to remind him about frequently. And he could never get tired of hearing her tell him how, that first time, he’d made her feel pleasure like she’d never known before, and how, ever since, she’d been helpless to resist his touch, a single finger, or the simple flick of his tongue, enough to drive her crazy with desire.

Oh, how he longed to hear her tell him that now. In fact, he longed for much more than just that. What he really wanted, was to know exactly what she’d been thinking about. What she’d imagined him doing to her. Details of what she loved and enjoyed most. How she’d brought herself to orgasm. And how often. And, not least, what had aroused her so much it had caused her to touch herself to begin with.

Hope wasn’t big on dirty talk, or even on telling him what she liked or would like him to do. She just didn’t feel comfortable with it, happy to let him do all the talking. But she had a million other ways of showing him how she enjoyed his ministrations, that he’d come to appreciate at least as much. He could certainly never get enough of her little moans and gasps, or the way her body trembled and pressed against him with need and pleasure.

After quietly taking off his clothes and a quick trip to the bathroom, McCoy slid into bed next to Hope, stark naked, leaving the lights on low, so he could still enjoy her beauty and her incredibly hot outfit. She certainly knew how to turn him on beyond measure. It took all his self-control not to wake her, his desire almost getting the better of him. But looking at her relaxed and serene face, so peacefully asleep, he settled for taking matters into his own hands, literally. Imagining the things Hope might have done and thought about while he’d been tied up in sickbay.

He’d barely started touching himself, shivering as he ran his thumb lightly over the already slick tip of his erection, when his gaze fell on Hope’s hand still caught inside her panties, the naughty sweetness of it nearly killing him. This was his Hope, the light and love of his life, the wonderful woman who’d chosen to spend the rest of her days with him, and who never ceased to amaze and surprise him. Or arouse him. And that was the moment he decided that, with it being Christmas and all, it was practically his duty to wake her and show her how much better he could finish what she’d begun on her own.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Jenny woke to the feeling of soft lips covering her face in little kisses, and the gentle touch of familiar fingers on her skin, lovingly caressing her hips and belly. Noticing with a start that her own fingers were still trapped in her panties, she felt herself blush furiously, totally embarrassed to have been caught ‘in the act’. But when she tried to pull her hand out, Leonard’s bigger one quickly gripped hers, keeping it in place.

“Don’t take your hand away, love,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, “I want you to keep it right there. To show me what you did. How you touched yourself. I want to watch you pleasuring yourself and maybe learn something new about you.”

She must have blushed even more at that, because Leonard pressed a gentle kiss on her lips and said with a smirk, “Don’t be shy, love! No need to be embarrassed! It’s really quite flattering to think that I left you so horny you couldn't wait. Finding you like this certainly made me so hard I briefly thought about following your example. And I’m not even talking about your stunning outfit, although I’m pretty sure there’s a law against wearing such a slinky little thing. But then I decided I’d rather wake you after all.”

“I’m glad you did,” Jenny smiled at the doctor, blinking the sleepiness away.

She was already incredibly turned on again just listening to his words, yet couldn't help feeling shy about touching herself in front of Leonard, even though it was perfectly clear how much the idea excited him. Just like she could never really bring herself to talk dirty to him, despite understanding why he’d love her to, seeing what his dirty talk unfailingly did to her.

So, deciding to humour him when he let go of her hand, Jenny gingerly started to draw little circles with her fingers inside her panties, unable to suppress a low moan as she noticed how wet she’d already become again, and eliciting a not so subtle groan from the doctor, who pressed a hot kiss on her lips before returning his lustful gaze to her nether regions.

“Don’t hold back, love,” he purred, gently stroking her thigh and rolling his hips in obvious arousal. “Show me how you make yourself feel good!”

Emboldened by how much Leonard was enjoying this, Jenny began to rub herself in earnest, her breath getting more erratic and her own hips starting to roll in time with her circling fingers, the doctor’s soft moans and encouraging words spurring her on.

“That’s it, love,” he murmured close to her ear, sounding a little breathless, “just let yourself go. Feels so good, doesn’t it? Your fingers going exactly where you need them, touching you just right.”

Leonard talking like that, fuelling her desire like only he could, was too much. Jenny forgot all about her inhibitions, bucking her hips and letting out a soft yelp as she came by her own fingers under the doctor’s mesmerised gaze, his hand sliding under her shirt and tenderly caressing her breasts, as she came off her high, gasping and trying to get her breathing back to normal.

“Do you do this often?” he asked softly, his eyes gleaming and his breath hot on her face, as his hand slid down her belly until it gently covered hers, still preventing it to pull out of her panties.

“I did, before we became lovers,” she confessed reluctantly, suddenly feeling shy again.

“And when you did, what were you fantasising about?”

The question alone was enough to set Jenny on fire again. Add Leonard’s bedroom voice, and she was helpless to keep her fingers from starting to move anew.

“About you, Leonard! Who else?” she sighed longingly, losing herself in his soulful eyes. “About you holding and kissing me.”

“Just holding and kissing, huh?” Leonard chuckled affectionately, brushing a tender, almost chaste kiss on her temple. “And that got you going?”

“Actually, it did!” Jenny blustered, momentarily distracted by the doctor’s undisguised mirth, her fingers losing their rhythm.

Leonard pressed another – less chaste – kiss on her lips, and, chuckling to himself once more, gently pushed her fingers aside.

“I’m taking over, love,” he smiled softly, and a moment later, Jenny’s whole body was on fire with unbridled desire.

-x-x-x-x-x-

“Oh my God!” Hope cried out, her body writhing under McCoy’s touch. “It’s so much better when you do it!”

The doctor felt a hot surge of pure lust ripple through him, thrilled by her keen response.

“Tell me, love, what exactly makes it so much better?” he tried to cajole her into a little dirty-talk after all, keeping his touches extra light, knowing perfectly well how that was driving her crazy.

“I just can’t last as long without you,” she confessed sheepishly, blushing adorably and drawing in a sharp breath every time he gently tapped her swollen nub. “I can’t help giving in to my need, where you would still endlessly torment me.”

“So, you love it when I tease you?” he probed, enjoying every word of this stimulating conversation. “When my touch is deliberately light and slow? Like this?”

Hope just nodded, groaning at his ‘demonstration’, his fingers easily gliding through the delicious wetness. It never ceased to amaze and delight him how responsive she was to every little one of his touches.

“When you’re begging me to let you come, you actually want me to keep you on the edge?”

“No! Please!” she cried, her thighs clamping around his hand, desperate for more friction.

“But I think you do,” McCoy kept on teasing her, knowing her well enough to see that she was already incredibly close and wondering how much longer he could still keep his own arousal at bay. “Why? Because it makes release infinitely sweeter the longer you’re denied?”

“You’re cruel!” Hope gritted out, bucking wildly against his hand now, her fingers scrabbling around the bedsheets for purchase.

“Maybe I am,” he whispered, starting to kiss her neck and nibble her ear, taking full advantage of knowing her body so well. “Or maybe I just want you to experience unprecedented pleasure.”

Hope was groping for McCoy’s hand now, getting hold of his wrist and gripping it hard. She always did this when his teasing got too much for her, and it never failed to amuse him how she really thought she was strong enough to force his hand into applying more pressure.

“But then again, perhaps I simply love having this power over your lust, over your body,” he grinned wickedly, enjoying nothing more than driving Hope to the heights of ecstasy, before going for the clincher, anticipating the exact effect his next words would have on her. “And, of course, you need to be punished for starting without me.”

That did it. That, and the skilled touch of a finger that, after months of experience and practice, had come to know Hope’s body inside out.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Jenny hurtled over the edge into free fall, exploding into a million shards of pleasure, only realising the noise she was making when Leonard sealed her lips with a passionate kiss in an attempt to muffle her sounds of ecstasy the way he did every time after making her lose control, always a great source of amusement to him.

Admittedly, virtually every orgasm the doctor gave her felt like the best ever, but this time, Jenny was fairly sure it was true. She’d definitely come harder than she had ever before. And a second and third time, before the first climax had even subsided. It felt like getting caught in an endless stream of intense pleasure, the smug grin on Leonard’s face proof of how well he knew what he was doing to her, and how much he enjoyed it.

“My insatiable girl,” he smiled tenderly, brushing damp strands of hair from her flushed face, love and lust blending together in his beautiful eyes. “You have no idea how gorgeous you are. Or how hot it is to see you like this. And how exciting to know that I did this. That I can make you feel like this. That I can tease you to my heart’s content and make you feel pleasure almost too much for you to handle.”

Always staying humble, incredulous almost, despite being this amazing lover, was one of Leonard’s most endearing qualities.

“Just be careful it doesn’t get you more excited than you can handle,” Jenny giggled as soon as she’d caught her breath again.

And still high from her incredible flight of ecstasy, she gently took hold of Leonard’s pulsing erection, finding it rock-hard and fit to burst, and almost made him come at the first touch.

“Jesus! What are you doing to me young lady?” he groaned, and Jenny was thrilled to see that he had to squeeze his eyes shut in concentration to stave off his own imminent orgasm. “Go easy on an old man’s heart!”

“Too late, old man,” she laughed, enjoying being the one in charge for a change, giving his shaft a few firm strokes while lightly running the fingers of her other hand over his crown, teasing his slit and rim, and revelling in the groans, and grunts, and gasps, that her ministrations coaxed out of him, his whole body twitching and jolting with desperate, urgent need. “You brought this on yourself, Doctor! It’s time you got a good taste of your own medicine!”

Watching him come apart at the touch of her hands, Jenny’s heart was brimming over with tender love for the man who’d thrown himself into making this the night of her life, as if he hadn’t just spent exhausting hours in sickbay, dealing with whatever emergency had come up this time. Judging from his playful mood, she could at least be sure that everyone was all right again. She’d ask him all about it later, but for now she had another goal to accomplish. And that was to give him as much pleasure and satisfaction as she possibly could. He’d definitely more than earned it tonight.

Applying all the skills she’d acquired over time, having had months of exploring Leonard’s body and desires, she went on stroking and teasing, alternating between firm and light touches, one hand taking care of his throbbing erection, while the other gently played with his balls. The whole time, her eyes never left the doctor’s handsome face, adorably scrunched up with unbridled lust now, as he was lost in sweet, unbearable pleasure, visibly torn between needing to come so badly and never wanting the feeling to stop.

“I love you, Leonard!” Jenny whispered, leaning over to softly trail her lips from his cheekbone down to his jaw, making him shiver with need, and want, and longing.

“God, Jenny, I love you, too,” he sighed, his lips capturing hers in a deep kiss, and his hand slipping inside her panties again.

“Teasing me makes you even wetter it seems,” Leonard groaned, thrusting hard into Jenny’s hand a couple more times before pushing away abruptly and going down on her before she even knew what was happening.

“Oh my God you’ve never tasted better,” he mumbled, his mouth pressed against her core after having made quick work of her panties, and Jenny thought she might pass out from the intense desire he was arousing in her once more.

She started to grind against his face, so close again already, but the doctor easily pinned her hips down with his strong hands, thus putting a stop to her movements.

“I want to drink every last delicious drop of your juices, love,” he positively growled, “before I give you what you so desperately crave. But I promise you won’t regret it.”

And true to his word, after putting her through what felt like endless, overwhelming need, his lips, tongue, and even his teeth teasing her in every possibly way, he sent her higher than she’d ever been before, making one orgasm spill into the next, his mouth never leaving her most sensitive parts, humming and moaning as if he were indulging in the most deliciously tasting dessert.

Once again, Jenny couldn't help but admire how much control over his own body Leonard showed when it came to pleasuring her, patiently stroking, and caressing, and nibbling, and licking her through all of her orgasms and beyond, not stopping until she’d come back down from her incredible high, breathing hard and shivering with exhaustion.

As soon as he was sure that she was truly satisfied, however, he didn’t waste another moment before finally acting on his own raging need, sliding up her body in one swift move to kiss her mouth hungrily and bury himself deep inside her with a single thrust, knowing that she was wet enough to easily take him.

And, unable to maintain control over his lust any longer, Leonard came after only a few more thrusts with an almighty groan, a soft curse, and a completely misguided apology. A sad hang-up from his time with Jocelyn, that still needed a lot more of Jenny’s gentle reassurances and healing love to help him finally overcome it.

Having learned how to draw out Leonard’s pleasure, Jenny clenched around his length, still buried deep inside her, eliciting more moans and gentle swearing from him, and making him throw back his head one last time before finally collapsing on top of her, breathless and drained, barely able to keep his weight off her.

“God almighty, you’re something else young lady,” he panted, the tender contentment in his eyes melting her heart. “I should really know by now that teasing you always backfires.”

Jenny laughed delightedly, wrapping her arms tightly around him and rolling them over on their sides. She didn’t mind his weight at all, in fact, enjoyed feeling him blanketing her. He wasn’t a heavy man. But she knew that he was always afraid to crush her and couldn’t really relax like that.

“This was amazing, Leonard!” she sighed, shifting even closer and nestling tightly into his arms. “But even so, I think I prefer you not being called away, so that we can ‘start together’.”

“I’m absolutely with you there, love,” he chuckled, “even though every night with you is amazing, no matter how we start or what we do. I sure am the luckiest man alive.”

“Just as I am the luckiest woman alive,” Jenny replied, gazing deeply into his eyes to make him see how sincere she was.

-x-x-x-x-x-

And McCoy knew that she really meant it. That was the best part of loving Hope. She didn’t play games. Not power games, and not any other kind. She was always straightforward. Genuine and sincere through and through. With her, you got exactly what you saw. At least he did. Maybe she could still fool someone who didn’t know her so well. She did have a tendency to hide her troubles behind her cheerful personality, after all.

But he could usually tell, if she was truly happy or not, and she’d more or less given up on trying to pretend with him, accepting that he’d much rather worry about her than find out too late that he hadn’t been there for her when she’d needed him. And he could always be sure that when she said she liked something, she really did. And when she was angry with him, or disappointed, she’d just say so, too. Simple as that. Being with her was just so easy. He’d never been so comfortable in a relationship before. Or so happy. Or so in love.

That didn’t mean she didn’t stress him, of course. In fact, aside from being his sunshine and the joy of his life, she was also a nearly constant source of worry for him, almost as bad as Jim in attracting danger. Or strange blows of fate. But it was all worth it. She was worth it. He’d gladly take on all the worrying in the world, if it meant having her love.

Because Hope’s love, boundless and unconditional, was one of the few certainties in his life. The one thing he had complete and utter faith in and knew he could always depend upon. Whatever she saw in him, he’d given up trying to understand, simply accepting that she believed him to be worthy of her affections and had given him her heart to hold and take care of.

McCoy might be afraid of losing her, considering all the dangers that came with living and working in space, but never of losing her love. And he’d certainly never stop doing everything in his power to make her, if not the luckiest, then hopefully the happiest woman alive.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Jenny watched Leonard’s eyes grow soft, as he let his loving gaze roam all over her body. She knew that look well. He always had it when she paid him a compliment or told him how much she loved him. Especially after they’d just made love. It was a look of blissful happiness mixed with wonder, and it never failed to tug at her heartstrings.

Leonard was every woman’s dream, in and out of the bedroom. And while he was confident enough as a doctor and scientist, and also as a lover, she knew that he still felt undeserving when it came to being loved. Jocelyn really had a lot to answer for, and Jenny was glad that she had a whole lifetime to convince Leonard of his own worth. To make him see what an amazing man he really was.

His gaze finally returning to her face after having lingered on her Christmas outfit for a considerable amount of time, Jenny saw a naughty grin spread across the doctor’s face.

“Tonight has turned out amazing after all, love, hasn’t it?” he smiled, kissing her tenderly on the lips. “But knowing you as I do, we’re not done yet.”

The mischievous grin on his face grew even wider, as his fingers started toying with the hem of her silky shirt and slowly making their way further down from there.

“I’m exhausted, Leonard!” Jenny laughed, trying to brush his hand away.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to check that myself. I can’t just take your word for it!” he replied in his no-nonsense CMO voice, before adding in a softer tone, “You are my insatiable girl after all, and I’m sure you’ll understand that, as your doctor, I couldn't afford to be negligent in my duties!”

“Believe me, Leonard,” Jenny giggled, as the doctor’s fingers gently probed between her thighs, and he broke into a knowing smile, “I’m totally spent! You made sure of that only a minute ago, remember? I couldn’t even ... ah ... oh my God!”

************ Disclaimer: Nothing of or associated with Star Trek is mine – it all belongs to Paramount / ViacomCBS (or whoever else is currently holding the rights). This is a work of fanfiction, no infringement intended.

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yelena-bellova · 4 years

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Don’t Be Afraid: Poe Dameron x Solo!Reader - Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen: Stay Alive

Series Masterlist

Plot: Poe returns from his Dreadnought attack and Y/n confronts him. Soon after, the First Order catches up to the Resistance.

Warnings: language, a steamy moment between Poe and the reader, angst

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: Fun Fact: For someone with anxiety, writing fan fiction is nerve wracking for me. Sometimes I speed through it because of how wired I get, I worry about whether or not people will like it, it’s really hard sometimes. I’m going to try and take more time with each chapter so I can allow myself all the time I need to craft it exactly how I want it to be. Anyways, enjoy this one!! (And yes, the title is once again based on a Hamilton song)

————

“Want some company?”

Mom turned and gave a sad smile, “From anyone else, no. But I’ll always take time with you.”  I entered the empty room, almost afraid to disrupt the quiet atmosphere. I handed her the cup of tea I’d made for her which she accepted it gratefully, her expression shifting to false confidence for me.

I settled into the seat next to her, “Mom, you don’t need to put on a brave face for me. I was there…”  There were tears waiting in her eyes, it wasn’t just the loss of our bomb squad bothering her.

“Both times,” I finished, wrapping my arms around myself as a sad attempt at comforting myself.

Mom placed her head in her ring-clad hand, “For once in my life, I feel overwhelmed. I’ve lived through a war, the rebuild of the galaxy, raising two children, leading the Resistance and yet this,” she gestured to the space around us, “This is my tipping point…”

A tear slipped down her cheek, she didn’t bother to swipe it away. I knew that type of surrendering to grief well, why bother wiping one tear away when more would inevitably come?

“I haven’t even had time to grieve for him yet,” she stated softly, like saying it would make the loss real, “We may have been apart for the past few years but I loved your father, that never changed. Having him back for even just a little while was a gift, I was so looking forward to having both of you come home.”  Sadness rose in my chest, threatening to spill out in choked sobs and pained moans. I had to compartmentalize right now or else I would fall to the ground and not get back up. I needed to be there for Mom plus we’d have to go be General Organa and Commander Solo momentarily.

“And now knowing what you’ve gone through,” she continued after a sip of tea, “I only feel more confused about Luke’s vision. Not a day has gone by since we’ve had you that I haven’t wondered about it. Between the war and you discovering your power, I need Luke here more than ever.”

That was true. I was flying blind and my power seemed to have increased exponentially in the past couple of days. My uncle could provide guidance in ways no one else could, something I was in desperate need of. I had in no way committed to becoming a Jedi, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still help me learn the basics of the Force. We hadn’t heard anything from Rey yet, but if something had happened to her, I knew I would have felt it. I hoped she was getting help from Luke as well, she was even more confused than I was.

“I wanted Dad to come home too,” I agreed wistfully, “I’d wished to have our family back for so long and it was in my grasp. I guess that makes it hurt even worse,” I kept my eyes focused on the stars that whizzed by us in hyperspace in an effort to not fall apart, “I’m just thankful I got one last moment just the three of us.”  I saw Mom smile warmly as she stared down into her cup, I could tell she was reliving the happy memory too.

“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with my powers,” I continued with a half shrug, “One of the last conversations I had with Dad was talking to him about why I was so afraid to tell you about them. Everything he said to me encouraged me to embrace them, to use them for good. But it’s not like I know what the next steps are. I could use a Jedi Master right about now.”

“We all could,” Mom agreed, “Have you told Poe yet?”  I groaned and rubbed at my face, “No, I haven’t figured out how to yet. I’m beyond frustrated with him so I don’t think now is the right time.”

“Better to tell him sooner rather than later.”  I nodded in acknowledgement, still dreading what his reaction could be.

 “Mom…I did have a question about my powers,” I began awkwardly, “I’ve always wondered how I may have gotten them and I was thinking about it this morning. Do you think there’s any chance that I could have inherited them from someone? Like…my birth parents?”  She held her cup to her lips, “It’s entirely possible. The Force can flow through generations, I’m living proof.”

I hadn’t stopped asking myself the question since I’d thought of it. Thinking about my birth parents had started again with hearing Rey’s story. The thought that I could have come from a family of Force users was daunting, but a possibility. I’d have to let it go soon though, there was no way of finding out who they were. There was no sense in dwelling on a theory I could never prove.   “It’s okay to think about them, you know,” Mom said, “You don’t have to feel guilty.”

“I know,” I replied, “I can’t help it sometimes because it feels like I’m betraying you and Dad. But they’re a part of me, I suppose I’ll never stop wondering,” I reached over and took her hand, “But you will always be my mother.”

She genuinely smiled and squeezed my hand, “And you will always be my daughter. My brave, beautiful, stubborn daughter.”  I laughed just as Lieutenant Connix appeared in the doorway,

“General, Commander, I’m sorry to interrupt.”  “You’re fine, what is it?” I inquired.

“Commander Dameron’s on the bridge, you told me to alert you when he returned.”  Both our moods shifted with the news, all the stress I’d erased from Mom’s face returning at the mention of Poe’s name. Then again he had that effect on most people.

“Thank you, Lieutenant. We’ll be there shortly,’ Mom addressed Connix. Once Kaydel had left the room, she turned to me, “You should’ve brought me something stronger than tea.”  “Sorry,” I responded as we stood up and headed out of the room, “I kept that drink for myself.”

  —————

Once we made it to the bridge, Poe’s orange flight suit was the first thing to catch my eye. He was standing with his back to us talking to…FINN?

“Commander Dameron,” Mom called in a falsely calm tone of voice “A word, please?”  Poe turned around to us, he looked ecstatic to see me but his grin faded once he saw my expression. The anger and frustration swirled inside me, even though I wanted nothing more than to be in his arms right then. Contradicting feelings like that came with being close to Poe Dameron, he could make you want to kill him and kiss him at the same time.

“Yes, General,” he answered, taking one last look at me before silently following Mom to a corner.

Finn and I finally made eye contact and we hurriedly crossed the room to each other. I took extra caution with his back as we embraced,

“No one told me you were up, how are you feeling?” I asked, pulling back to examine his face for any signs of pain. The last time I’d seen him, apart from in the med bay, I hadn’t known whether or not he was going to live. To see him standing in front of me was a much needed pick me up.

“I kinda discharged myself,” he chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m sure Poe will tell you the story but I feel fine.”

I released a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding before throwing my arms around him again, “I’m so glad, it looked like touch and go for a while back on the Falcon.”

Finn was drawing a breath when the sound of a slap made us turn. Poe’s head was tilted to the side as my mother withdrew her hand.

“Everything alright?” Finn asked slowly, his eyes still on the scene.

“Believe me, that’s light considering what he did…”

“Okay,” he replied and turned back to our conversation “Poe told me about Rey, have you heard anything from her?”

“Not yet,” I said, “But it’s only been a day since she left. I’m not worried yet.”

Finn nodded but I could tell my answer didn’t ease his concerns at all. As much as I didn’t want him to be anxious, I was happy he was back to his usual protective self. We were about to continue talking when I felt a hand press lightly against the small of my back. I didn’t need to turn to know who it belonged to…

“Can we talk?”  

I scoffed, “Sure, let’s talk,” I smiled towards Finn, “We’ll be back.”  Leaving an extremely confused Finn in our trails, I led Poe off of the bridge. There weren’t a lot of nearby places to have this private of a conversation and we couldn’t venture off very far. I spotted a storage closet and opened the door, not ideal but it would do. We entered the room filled with a couple crates of supplies and I locked the door behind us.

Poe put his hands on his hips, “I’m gonna go out on a limb and say you’re angry with me,”

“Oh,” I spun around to face him, “So you are capable of using your brain.”  He sighed and ducked his gaze to the ground, “Y/n-“  “What the hell were you thinking, Poe?” I exclaimed, causing his head to snap back up, “You and your squad go up against a ship that big and you decide that’s the perfect time to disobey an order? Meanwhile our entire fleet is sitting there waiting for you?”

“I had an opportunity, I took it,” he gestured towards the door, “Didn’t you see what we did? We took down a Dreadnought!”

“No!” I snapped, “I didn’t see what you did because I was too busy watching the entire bombing squadron drop off the radar. I was calling out for you on the comms that you decided to turn off. Or how about freaking out internally because I thought I was going to lose you?”  Whatever response he had had ready to go, he decided against saying it in that moment. Tears were welling in my eyes as I relived the anxiety and terror I had felt in that moment,

“I just lost my dad, I almost lost Finn and Rey, and then you go and pull something like that. I know how you work, Poe, but do you realize what would happen if I lost you?” I cried, my chest aching at the memory of thinking I’d never see him again, “I had to spend half a day thinking you were dead and it was the worst feeling in the galaxy.”  I swiped at my eyes, the backs of my hands shining with tears. Poe’s jaw was slack and he’d dropped his hands at his sides, I’d stunned him into silence.

“You told me the other night you’d always come back to me,” I whispered, my tight throat with emotion, “I need that to be more than a sentiment. I can’t lose you.”

Poe’s eyes glistened as I finished my speech, “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry.”

He surged forward and captured me in his arms, I clutched to his flight suit for dear life, I could tell I’d gotten my message across. I hadn’t meant to hurt him, I just needed him to know one fraction of how I’d felt. We were in the middle of a war, no day was ever guaranteed. But Poe and his recklessness had cost us and put me through emotional hell unnecessarily. He had to know when to call it a day, his actions no longer just affected him.

“I’m so sorry I did that to you,” Poe’s voice strained, “You’ve been through too much and I’m sorry I added to it.”

I sniffled into his shoulder, “As mad as I am, I’m just happy you’re here. I was so scared.”  He kissed the side of my head and pulled back to look at me, “I will always come back to you, sweetheart.”  “I know you will, you ginormous idiot.”

Poe laughed as he nuzzled his nose against mine sweetly, “You love me anyway.”  “That I do, Commander,” I leaned in to kiss him, but he tilted his head so I missed my target.

“Captain…”  “What?”  “Leia demoted me,” Poe went on, ashamed and hanging his head, “Captain Dameron.”  I sighed heavily and pulled him closer to me, sliding my hands up his back. Had he deserved it? Probably. But I could see how hard it was hitting him and my heart hurt for him. His title reflected the hard work he’d put in during his years here and he loved being Commander Dameron.

“I’m sure you’ll work your way back up in no time,” I assured, “You’re nothing if not determined.”  He gave me a half smile, “I know, it still feels like a slap in the face though.”  “Mmm, I’m pretty sure that was the actual slap in the face you got.”  “Ha ha ha,” he said sarcastically, “My face still hurts, your mom packs a punch.”  “Wait, was there a punch?” I jested and gestured to his cheek, “Did I miss a punch?”  Poe cocked his head unimpressed, “I may be an idiot, but you’re a jerk.”  I raised an eyebrow and moved my hands to press against his chest, “Is that any way to speak to your Commander?”

Poe smirked suggestively and leaned down to mold his lips to mine. My hands slid over his cheeks and lightly stroked the red skin, soothing the sting. He kept one arm tightened around my waist and tangled his hand in my hair, cradling my head. He pressed our bodies together till there was no space left and we were breathing each other’s air. Adrenaline fueled us, I’d almost lost Poe and he was still wired from flying.

“We should probably be working,” I mumbled against his lips.

“Yeah, we should,” he replied, before sliding his hands down to my ass and lifting me up, “But this is more fun.”  I wrapped my legs around his hips as he carried me till my back hit a wall. Poe begged for entrance into my mouth, restraining himself as he swiped across my bottom lip. I parted for him and his tongue delved in, causing me to moan at the intimate contact. This was the closeness I’d been craving with him, though the location wasn’t what I’d imagined. I couldn’t bring myself to care, Poe’s touch took hold of every thought in my mind that wasn’t about him and silenced them. My hands moved up into the back of his curls, lightly tugging to elicit a delicious groan from him. I wanted to commit every beautiful sound he made to memory.

Poe moved his lips to press heated kisses across my cheeks, my jaw and ending at my neck. I whimpered softly as he nipped at the skin before soothing it over with his tongue. I tightened my legs around his middle to get as close as humanly possible to him. His lips began exploring my skin, pressing soft kisses trying to map out my most sensitive spots. When he hit the juncture between my neck and shoulder and I sucked in a breath, the vibration of his self-satisfied chuckle run through me. He started sucking relentlessly, causing a breathless moan to escape me as I gripped his arms tightly. Poe and his mouth were going to be the death of me, I knew it. Oh, but what a way to go...

Just as I was about to raise a middle finger to our responsibilities and take Poe back to my room, the alarm on the bridge blared. We pulled away gasping for air,

“That’s not good,” Poe breathed, he lowered me to the ground hurriedly. I unlocked the closet door and we made a beeline for the bridge. Luckily, we could blame our breathlessness on account of our running.

“Proximity alert!” Admiral Ackbar shouted just as we entered, Poe and I ran to stand behind him.

“They found us!” a soldier announced.

“That’s impossible,” I said. We didn’t have to wait long to see what was coming for us. The First Order’s fleet jumped out of hyperspace, head-on in front of us. Gasps and voices erupted around us as each person got a look.

“That’s Snoke’s ship,” Poe’s voice low in disbelief, “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he strutted to the console table with me close behind, “Can we jump to lightspeed?”

“We have enough fuel for just one jump,” Connix reported.

“Well then do it, we gotta get out of here,” Poe ordered, I came to stand between him and Finn.

“Wait,” Mom held up a hand, her face carried a realization that hadn’t hit us yet, “They’ve tracked us through lightspeed.”  “That’s impossible,” Finn commented.

“Yes,” she nodded before turning to stare out at the menacing fleet, “And they’ve done it.”  “How could they have developed that tech?” I asked, knowing no one had answers.

“So if we jump to lightspeed...they'll just find us again, and we'll be out of fuel,” Finn processed before looking to me, “They've got us.”  “Not yet, they don’t,” Poe remarked confidently, he walked over to my mom, “Permission to jump in an X-wing and blow something up?”  “Permission granted,” she replied before ordering Admiral Ackbar to turn the ship around.

Poe quickly stopped to peck my cheek before he dashed out of the room, BB-8 on his heels. Just like that, I was back in the familiar position of fearing he wouldn’t come back alive. But he was right to jump into action, we all needed to.

I was about to say something to Finn when the room went silent, at least it did for me. My breath caught, my stomach lurched, every cell in my body was suddenly on high alert.

Ren was here.

My feet carried me off the bridge automatically, ignoring every call of my title as I ran off. There was no chance of me staying put if he was here. The hanger was my destination, there had to be one ship available in the hanger for me to fly. If I knew he was here, he definitely knew I was too. I wanted the satisfaction of meeting him on a battlefield where I was undoubtably more skilled than him.

“Y/n, where are you going?” Finn yelled after me, he’d caught up surprisingly fast.

“Ren’s here,” I replied, “I’ve gotta do something, you need to stay safe.”  “If you and Poe are going, so am I!” he replied, his loyalty to us was touching. But I couldn’t drag him into another squabble between me and Kylo, he’d almost died last time.

Just as we were approaching the hanger, an explosion rocked the ship and threw me and Finn forward, landing awkwardly against each other. He scrambled to his feet and extended an arm to me, I pulled myself up with a groan. I looked at our surroundings to find Poe laid out on the floor just outside the hanger entrance, his skin covered in soot and his flight suit singed. Bee was reattaching himself as his head had separated from his body.  “Poe!” I yelled, running to him and dropping to my knees with Finn to support Poe’s torso.

“Are you okay?” Finn asked.

“We need to get out of range of those Star Destroyers,” he groaned. We hoisted him to his feet, I braced him for a few steps till he found his footing again.

We hadn’t gotten far when I froze in my tracks, a feeling washing over me different than the one I’d felt during Poe’s attack but just as intense. This one was fragile, broken, yet warm. The only image I could compare it to was of a somebody trying desperately to stitch a torn piece of fabric back together. I could distantly hear Poe and Finn call my name, but I waved them off and stumbled a couple feet away from them. I sensed my mother, her pain and longing. I sensed Kylo, his surprise and conflict and…that couldn’t be longing I sensed from him as well. It was barely there, but it was strong enough for me to feel his pain. I reached out to Mom and she reached back out, it was like she had a hand stretched out towards both of us. It was a surreal feeling, I didn’t want to break it because it felt like…home.

That’s when the second explosion hit and my mother, and countless other’s presences vanished.

I cried out, gasping as I braced myself against the wall. Poe and Finn were at my side in an instant, holding onto me and attempting to calm me down. BB-8 beeped wildly with concern.

“Y/n, baby, what’s wrong?” Poe pleaded, I clung to his arm as I struggled to catch my breath. Something terrible had just happened.

 “Commander Solo,” the comm in my pants pocket called, “Commander Solo, come in.”  I hesitantly let go of my boyfriend and grabbed the device with a shaky hand, “Connix, what just happened?”  “The bridge has been destroyed.”  My head shot up to look to Poe and Finn, the three of us bolted down the hall, ignoring the concern of passersby. Once we arrived outside the sealed doors to find Kaydel waiting, I could see the damage. The faces I’d seen just moments ago all gone, the lights burnt out, debris floating in and out of it. It was awful.

“Where’s the General?” I asked with a faltering voice, not turning to make eye contact. There was a deafening silence that served as my answer. Rage and devastation swirled inside me as shock took hold of my body. My fists curled at my side as tears blurred my vision, I mechanically moved my legs and left our party to walk down the long hallway. I eventually landed at a large window, looking out of it to see pieces of the ship swirling around us. Somewhere nearby, my mother’s lifeless body was there too.

No.

This was not happening.

I had not lost my entire family in the span of two days.

Tears silently dripped down my cheeks and chin as I stared out at the destruction. My heart wasn’t ready to feel what these events would force me to feel.

Then I saw something unbelievable. A sight that if I told someone who didn’t know my mother, they’d be convinced I was insane.

“Guys!” I shouted, Finn, Poe and Connix ran to my side and we watched my mother steer herself through space. I didn’t know the intricacies of the Force and everything you could do through it, but this was the single greatest display of it’s power I’d ever witnessed. I sobbed happily as she headed towards the remnants of the bridge.

“We need a medic at the bridge now!” Poe shouted as the four of us ran back down the hall to her destination. We made it to the door just as it slid open, Poe and I caught her before she hit the floor. The effort her daring act had taken had caused her to fall unconscious. We carried her away from the door as Connix and Finn continued yelling for medical. Poe lowered her to the ground as I knelt down and laid her head in my lap,

“Mom, please if you can hear me,” I whispered, pressing my forehead to hers, “Please, please, stay alive. I’m not ready to do this without you.”

The medics could be heard rushing down the hall, once they arrived I was forced to let go of her. I kissed her ice cold cheek and let them take over, going to stand at the stretcher with Poe. The medics lifted her up onto it and placed an oxygen mask over her mouth.

“Clear a path, everybody out of the way!” I ordered as we began wheeling her down the hall.

“Move! Outta the way, everybody! Make way! Make room!” Poe echoed across from me.

“Her vital signs are weak, but she’s fighting,” a medic told us, I clung to my mother’s hand at the news.

“C’mon, Mom,” I urged, “Fight.”  Poe and I went as far as we could with her until we reached the med bay and were told we couldn’t go any further. Someone reassured me that as soon as there was news, I’d be the first to know. We waited outside the doors, the only way either of us were leaving was at my mother’s side. I was nervously pacing as Poe sat, elbows on his knees and his laced fingers holding his chin up. His eyes were watery, Mom meant so much to him, I was surprised he’d kept it together this long.

After what had to be my fiftieth lap in the waiting room, I came to sit next to him. At my closeness, Poe leaned back in his chair and I slipped my hand into his in an attempt to comfort both of us. Both of us stared at the pristine white wall silently, probably similar thoughts and worst case scenarios running through both our heads. It was pointless to ask questions, neither of us could give any guarantee she’d live. I rested my head against his shoulder and he sandwiched it between his, squeezing my hand. We were communicating to each other ‘I’m here for you, let me help you shoulder this burden’ and ‘I need you more than anything else in the galaxy right now, please don’t leave me.’

The only noise that could be heard was chatter past the doors we were unauthorized to go through and faint beeping from machines. Would they have to perform surgery on her? Would she be hooked up to a ventilator because her lungs had been damaged? Poe and I relaxed into each other, we were willing to wait as long as we had to.

—————

A/N: Like we all wouldn’t love to jump Poe fresh from a flight still in his suit 😏 This one was a fun chapter to write because there were interactions with almost everyone. Also *cough cough* whoarey/nsparents *cough cough* Let me know if you’d like to be added to either taglist! 🖤

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