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#plokit
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The Force: Put yourself inside the Jedi’s mind to help them grow.
The Force: This Jedi might think:
Ahsoka: I love Plo and Kit, my two cool fathers.
The Force: And this Jedi thinks:
Anakin: I have to breathe so much right now.
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dukeoftheblackstar · 5 months
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Tamagotchi Fever
Plo Koon's would very well be taken cared of because mans be so responsible. Probably sync his nap times with pet's sleepy hours.
Kit would forget about out it. No valid reason really. - To satisfy my PloKit heart, Plo adopts Kit's tamagotchi pet
Shaak Ti peak condition pet. Doesn't fucking miss.
Obi would have probably tossed it at some point or it would have gotten caught in his saber and broke the actual tamagotchi device. Feels bad about it.
Anakin would have probably gone through so much tamagotchi pets because he wants the strongest one and them dying means new one / survival of the fittest.
Ki-Adi-Mundi would be reminded by his wives about it, so he's kinda safe.
Mace would probably be so attentive to it, he's got a schedule jotted down somewhere.
I'm partial to Yoda feeding his tamagotchi pet during a meeting.
I'm sensing Ahsoka would get bored over it.
This was originally intended for Aayla, but because Blyla exists, I bet you Bly would add sequence and yassify that shit for Aayla ♥
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uiro-mgmg1 · 1 year
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I wanted to draw Master Plo taking off his goggles.
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coconuts-are-mammals · 11 months
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Mace: Now, repeat after me.
Kit: After me.
Mace:
Mace, turning to Plo: Are you sure you want this one?
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swgran · 10 months
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Time to introduce my five little babies!
I love Qui tooo much so there are two Quis😉
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They don’t even made their toys so I made them by myself.
Took me over a month but it’s worth it🥹
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Yes, Sith Qui and master Qui Gon have to be bigger than others.
And yes, Kit must have beautiful abs!!!
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martianbugsbunny · 11 months
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The Tender Daily Ritual (A PloKit Fic)
May the Fourth be with you! *chuckle* I really enjoyed writing my first PloKit fic, so I’ve done another short domestic thing. I got the idea for this fic when it got warmer where I live recently and as a result, my skin started itching like mad. Kel Dor living in non-oxygen atmospheres, I figured it wasn’t too far-fetched for Plo to have similar issues when on Coruscant, and the idea of Kit helping him lotion the itchy spots just made me all melty inside. Basically no plot, just soft fluff—enjoy!
Plo sighed, for once with contentment, rather than the stresses of war. The Separatists had been oddly quiet lately, and although the Jedi Council had been discussing how to prepare for the inevitable renewed onslaught, both Plo and Kit had been back at the Jedi Temple for the past week, rather than out in the field. True, they couldn’t walk about with hands clasped together as they could on joint missions, and if they wanted to sleep one curled around the other they had to check carefully that nobody saw them slip into each other’s rooms, but they were willing to make those small sacrifices for their small, stolen moments of peace together.
It was early in the morning, only about five o’clock, and the dawn coming up over Coruscant was beautiful. Plo stood and watched it from his window; being a member of the Council, he got one of the few rooms in the Temple with a view. He liked watching the rising sun reflect off the many skyscrapers and the ever-present lanes of traffic. It was an artificial kind of beauty, but it was stunning all the same.
Kit quietly entered the room, closing the door behind himself without a sound. Every morning he went down for a swim in the Temple pool, put there for species like Nautolans who lived naturally in water.
“Morning, love,” he said. Plo tore himself away from the view at the window to return Kit’s smile.
“Good morning,” he replied. He went to sit on the bed as Kit retrieved one of the jars of lotion from Plo’s dresser.
It was a daily ritual for Kit to rub lotion into Plo’s thick skin, which dried out when he was in an oxygen environment to a maddening degree. In the field, he itched constantly and often developed raw, irritated patches all across his back and chest, despite the thick robes he wore. When he had time, the clone medic medicated and sometimes bandaged the dry skin, but mostly he went without.
Not now. Kit slipped the robe off of Plo’s shoulders, dipped his fingers into the salve, and began to massage the curve of Plo’s neck. The tension wasn’t entirely dissipated from his muscles (in the thick of the Clone War, total relaxation was nearly impossible) but beneath Kit’s gentle hands, Plo began to loosen up.
The extra care Kit gave to a spot of skin on Plo’s left side, where the itching was worst, made Plo tear up beneath his goggles. He didn’t need any elaborate gestures to know how Kit felt for him—that delicate, small touch was what let Plo know he was loved.
“Someday, when the war is over, we’ll do this every day, come hell or high water,” Kit whispered in Plo’s ear, as he usually did. They had long since promised their lives after the war to each other; they couldn’t leave the Order before securing the galaxy’s safety.
“You would love high water, dear,” Plo laughed. He leaned back against Kit’s chest, and Kit wrapped his strong green arms around him, pressing an adoring kiss to Plo’s shoulder. “But it does sound nice.”
“Maybe we can even split our time between your homeworld and mine,” Kit suggested. “I’ll have my oceans sometimes, and you won’t have to deal with this in your own atmosphere.” He splayed his fingers across Plo’s ribcage, gently working a leftover residue of lotion from his fingertips into Plo’s skin.
“Even better,” Plo agreed.
For the moment, it didn’t matter a bit that they were still Jedi, and were technically disobeying their code. It didn’t matter that the war was still raging, and neither could be a hundred percent certain they would make it to that promised happy life.
For the moment, as with each day’s similar time, they were just Plo Koon and Kit Fisto, deeply in love, utterly committed to caring heart and body for each other, and that was what mattered.
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sofir-kefir · 8 months
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what if Keith had returned to his home apartment knowing that he was expected? How would his evening go when there is only happiness in his head
The doors opened and Kit entered the room, closing his eyes and running his hand over the back of his head and neck. Now more than ever he wanted to just fall on the bed and lie still.
- are you back?- a favorite robotic voice rang out from the kitchen and nautolan smiled. He went there and stood at the entrance. Watching the senior master who was conjuring at the teapot, Fisto felt a feeling of happiness and peace slowly spreading inside, a stupid smile appears on his face. He enjoyed the view of Plo, who looked so small and homely without his robes in a light shirt on his bare feet that he wanted to hug him and never let go
Plo turned around, a little puzzled by the silence of his comrade, he looked questioningly at the Whale, which now resembled a cat being stroked. "It seems he's completely exhausted," a thought flashed through kel-dor's head
- What's wrong with you, are you okay?- nevertheless, Kit asked, to which nautolan only purred unintelligibly and obviously deciding not to deny himself anything, he stuck off the wall and went up to Plo and gently hugged him, burying himself in his shoulder.
"I've missed you so much," muttered Nautolan, snuggling closer to another Jedi.
(After a couple of hours)
Kit sprawled impressively on the bed watching Plo walking around the room and going on another mission. Passing by Fisto, he casually stroked him on the head, which caused nautolan to precipitate from delight. Catching Plo's hand, the big green cat, looking attentively at his friend, gently kissed the clawed fingers, spreading a smile.
- you're beautiful~
Putting aside the assembly of things, Kit bent over, pressing his forehead to the Whale's forehead and making a quiet sound similar to a purr.
- I can't compare with you- the Jedi almost choked on air when he realized that Plo was flirting with him, which caused a deep laugh from Kel-dor.
- is it really only after meeting that we should part ...
Kit was genuinely upset by this fact and the Force was filled with his longing.
- I'll be back very quickly, but in the meantime, what can I do for you so that you remember me and rejoice?- gently stroking the appendages to calm the beloved, Kun asked.
- dance with me....
Kit smiled happily remembering that evening. Despite the strange request, Plo agreed on the condition that Kit would teach him to dance. That evening, he gently held his beloved man in his arms, seeing that he liked a new occupation and that a satisfied hum escaped from under the mask. The sight of a dancing and happy Plo has become the greatest treasure in the heart of a Whale that he will carry through his whole life....
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it-was-rose · 2 years
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They’re married your honour
reblogs are appreciated <3
Tag list: @kaminocasey @fandumbug @studioramekin @obi-1kenobi @thechaoticfanartist (DM to join!)
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tits-fisto · 1 year
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Sovereign
Kit Fisto and Plo Koon - middle aged men in love. Dirty talk is not quite their thing, but they give it a good go.
For the kinktober prompt overstimulation.
I hope you enjoy it!
Read below the cut or on AO3
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Plo gasps in Kit's grip, his hips bucking.
He writhes on the bedsheets, one clawed hand twisted in the fabric and the other resting on his chest. His tusks click and quiver as Kit smooths his hands down Plo's sides. His chest heaves as Kit takes a hold of his hips and thrusts inside.
Plo's slit is wet and loose, and there's little resistance as Kit presses inside of him. The walls of his body flutter around Kit's cock.
"Ready to give in yet, old man?" Kit asks, leaning down low over Plo's face.
His breath rattles through his anti-ox mask, his body twitching around Kit's cock.
"Not on your life," Plo says, his voice quavering, "you ungrateful –"
Kit fucks into him hard a few times, and Plo loses the thread of what he was trying to say. Kit is sure that it was going to be very cutting, whatever it was. After a few short sharp thrusts Plo is back to a melted puddle on their bed, Kit slows back down and comes to a rest.
When he's caught his breath, Plo's hand slides up his arms and comes to a rest on his shoulders.
"Bastard," he says. "Ungrateful bastard."
Kit laughs, pressing a kiss to Plo's jaw along the edge of his mask.
"Last chance to back out," he murmurs, his lips brushing Plo's neck as he speaks. "Give those old bones a rest."
"Perhaps it's you who wants to back out," Plo says, scraping his claws down Kit's chest. "Does baby need a nap?"
Kit bursts out laughing. He laughs so hard he has to bow forward to rest his forehead against Plo's mask when his arms give out below him.
"You dirty old man," Kit gasps. His shoulders shake and he can't stop grinning.
"The youth of today," Plo tuts, "so rude."
It takes a little while for Kit to stop laughing for long enough that he can speak. He thinks he's got himself under control, and then he looks at Plo and loses it all over again. His cheeks are warm from laughter when he finally manages to calm down enough to reply.
"We both know I'm well over a decade past being the 'youth' of any era," he says, resting on one elbow so he can grin down at Plo.
He cracks up again as soon as he clocks Plo's face. Not that he can see Plo's face, but the lines around the edge of his mask are all he needs to know that Plo is utterly unimpressed with him.
"Oh no," he says, his voice blisteringly dry and it just makes Kit laugh harder, "that must be so hard for you. I cannot possibly imagine."
"Sorry Love," he says once he's collected himself, tracing one finger idly around the edges of Plo's mask, "I think we've gotten slightly off track. Where were we?"
Plo's arms loop around Kit's shoulders and ahwey. His hands clasp together at the back of Kit's neck, and the lines around the edge of his mask soften.
"I believe we were in the middle of some trash talk darling," he says softly, his talons scraping lightly at Kit's skin.
"Not dirty talk?"
"Decidedly not."
"Well," Kit murmurs, sliding his hand down Plo's side to grasp his hip with intention. "Let me correct that."
He drags his cock out of Plo's slit slowly, making sure he can feel every moment of it. Plo gasps and arches into him, so tender and responsive. It drives Kit mad, when he's like this. When they've gone a few rounds and Plo is ultra sensitive, but not yet sore. When the tiniest shift of Kit's cock inside him has him whimpering, and the gentlest brush of Kit's lips to his has him moaning for more.
The mood shifts quickly – from teasing and light to intensely intimate. In no time at all Plo is right there on the edge of overwhelmed, his claws drawing lines across Kit's back. He's so beautiful, arching and gasping – all lean corded muscle that ripples beneath dark amber skin. Kit stays low and close to him, rocking into his body with slow deep thrusts. This close he can see the sweat beaded on his skin, smell his heady musk and hear Plo's actual breaths, layered below the amplified sound that transmits through his vocoder.
It's so intimate to hear Plo's true voice, usually too muffled by his mask. It comes a fraction of a second before the transmitted sound, so close together it might just be Kit's fanciful imagination, and Kit has to listen hard to pick apart the different tones. It's worth it though, so worth it.
Plo's true voice is deeper and not quite as gravelly as the voice that is transmitted through the vocoder, and Kit is one of very few people who knows that. He likes to think he's the only person who isn't also a Kel Dor who's heard how Plo sounds beneath his mask, even if he knows that in reality, that's unlikely.
Kit shifts his grip on Plo's hip so that he can press his thumb deep into Plo's abdomen. The keen that emanates from deep in his chest is one of the most beautiful noises that Kit has ever had the privilege of hearing. Plo's inner walls flex and quiver around Kit's cock as he writhes against the bedsheets. He's close again already, Kit can tell just by the way he can see Plo's pulse hammering against the skin of his throat, and the way his chest is heaving.
Kit presses a kiss to Plo's throat before he shifts, rising up on his knees. He takes Plo's hips in both hands and lifts him, pulling Plo up onto his cock. Plo keens again, his shoulders pushing into the mattress so he can press himself closer to Kit.
He grins as Plo squirms desperately below him. He would chuckle fondly, but he's putting too much effort into fucking him, angling Plo's body carefully to hit the spot that will make him howl. He's breathing hard, but once Plo lets him know he's got it with a strangled shout of his name, he moves one of his hands to the juncture of Plo's thighs.
When Kit trails his fingertips lightly over the bundle of nerves that sits at the peak of his slit, Plo's talons dig into the tops of his thighs. When he presses down lightly Plo rocks his hips frantically – his thighs tightening around Kit's waist.
Desperation is such a good look on him.
It doesn't take long for him to come after that. Kit groans as Plo spasms around him, his breaths hitching. He wants to come too, to bury himself deep inside Plo's body and paint his insides, but there's something else he wants more.
Instead of releasing Plo's hips and letting him relax onto the covers, he holds him tighter. He presses down harder on Plo's bundle of nerves and keeps his hips moving.
Plo howls – his back bowing so deeply it doesn’t look possible.
He writhes in Kit’s arms, his body wracked with spasms of pleasure. He doesn’t seem to know whether he wants less or more – squirming away one moment and pressing desperately closer the next.
“Kit – ah – ah!”
“Come on love,” Kit breathes, still holding Plo’s hips tightly, “show me what you can do.”
He presses his fingers down a little harder just to hear Plo scream. His hips jerk against Kit’s, his clawed talons scratching lines that bead with blood on Kit’s chest as he grabs at him. They glitter like jewels and Kit barely feels the way a few roll sluggishly down his body – all he can feel is Plo and the way he is wrapped around Kit’s cock.
Kit changes the angle of his hips and Plo breaks open in front of him. His usually reserved, solemn and distinguished partner becomes a creature of pure sensation before his eyes – though he never loses the air of regalness that he carries with him like a crown. Standing with arms folded at the side of a room, seated in a council meeting, or naked and writhing on their bed – Plo is his Emperor.
Kit is but a knight in his kingdom, so in love with his liege he would cut himself open without thought. But his King, his Monarch, his Sovereign, would never ask that of him. All his Emperor wants is to be spoiled.
And so he keeps going, keeps Plo trapped in ecstacy – pain that is indistinguishable from pleasure. Overstimulation is something that Plo craves, and though Kit doesn't truly understand it he will give Plo whatever he asks for. And Plo has asked, again and again, to be broken.
Broken down to where no walls exist, to where he is free to do nothing but feel what Kit is giving to him.
Plo loves to be ruined, and Kit loves to ruin him.
A few more snaps of his hips, a few more hard circles of his fingers, and Plo truly breaks. He comes once more, screaming. The noise he makes emanates from his vocoder and also from around the edges of the mask, the air-tight seal overwhelmed by the sheer pressure Plo creates with his lungs. His back arches so deeply it looks as if his spine has been snapped in half, and Kit truly can't tell which Plo is in the rapture of – pleasure or pain.
He comes, the spasms of Plo's body around his too much to bear. As he curls forwards his head collides with Plo's chest, and Plo's hands grab at his ahwey. They yank, his talons piercing the skin and it only drives Kit higher, his hips still snapping into Plo with desperation. Eventually he buries himself as deeply as he can manage and holds Plo to him – every twitch of Plo's body pulling a moan from deep in his chest.
Before long it's too much. While Kit might be partial to a bit of pain in the bedroom, overstimulation is not something he enjoys. He pulls out of Plo and collapses on top of his still shaking lover, breathing hard.
They both come down slowly, their breath ragged and their bodies aching. Plo's hands begin to move carefully over Kit's ahwey, and Kit relishes the little bursts of pain that come everytime his fingers pass over a cut or a bruise.
Neither he or Plo are sadists, both of them masochists to a high degree, but they are both so devoted to one another that it hasn't mattered one bit. Also, when Kit fucks Plo hard enough, he loses all control. He has no awareness that his talons are cutting into Kit's flesh – only that he wants to touch Kit wherever he is able.
Kit adores him.
Finally – his breathing almost back to normal – Kit pushes up on one elbow to gaze down at Plo.
Plo regards him back, and although Kit can't see his face he knows Plo is smiling.
"Is that everything you wanted, Love?" he asks, stroking the bruises beginning to form on Plo's side.
"Not quite."
"Oh?"
"You promised me dirty talk."
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Notes:
Thank you for reading.
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to-a-merrier-world · 2 years
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Kit Fisto & Plo Koon | Jedi Masters
Feel free to use, just reblog pls💗
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thecodyagenda · 2 years
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infects you with plokit
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hmmmm I don’t really ship it tbh I’ve just always seen them as friends but I’m not opposed to it as a concept, cheers for the ask :)))
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Conversation
Kit: I don’t want to lie anymore.
Plo: Kit-
Tholme: Lie about what?
Kit: It’s Plo. I’ve been dating Plo.
Agen: Master Fisto’s not the only one!
Tholme: You’ve been dating Plo, too?
Agen: What?!
Agen: No—!
Agen: Voolvif’s always been my best pal, but now I love him.
Luminara: Wait a minute... Master Fisto and Master Koon...
Luminara: Masters Kolar and Monn?
Luminara: You mean... I’ve been keeping my relationship with Siri a secret this whole time for nothing?
Siri: Babe—
Tholme: I THOUGHT I WAS THE ONLY ONE!
Voolvif: Wait, you have a boyfriend, Master Tholme?
Tholme: Yeah...
Tholme: The Temple’s Battlemaster, Cin Drallig
Cin: [nods]
Kit: Now wait a damn second!
Kit: Is there anyone else who’s going to come out?
Mace:
Mace: ... I don’t like anyone.
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dukeoftheblackstar · 6 months
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Got me my gay husbands.
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Now kiss.
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Bonus: 😉😉😉
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uiro-mgmg1 · 2 years
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I wanted to depict their intimate moments.
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Kit: I just want someone to take me out.
Plo: On a date?
Adi, from the other room: In a fistfight?
Shaak, from the ventilation system: Both if you're not a coward.
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kiwikipedia · 2 years
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121: “Why are you in my bed?”, for Plo and Kit please? 💚
Sure thing <3
121: “Why are you in my bed?”
Characters: Plo Koon, Kit Fisto (Ship)
AO3
Dialogue Prompt List
In the past, Plo Koon’s normal routine upon arriving back on Coruscant would be to deliver the mission report— be it good or bad— then retire elsewhere for a time of meditation or to observe the initiates or padawans, among other things that required little action on his end, or, if it was late enough, retire for the night entirely.
The Force had not been kind to him today, however.
With the war going on, the return of the 104th Battalion and himself to Coruscant meant a number of new things were to be added to his routine. Ordinarily, that wouldn’t have been a problem— going over general supplies that were needed and sending an order report form for that was no trouble, and making sure that the boys were all in working order or getting the assistance they needed wasn’t anything overly time-consuming. Commander Wolffe kept the rest of the boys in line, after all.
(His commander and son had waved him off with a halfhearted grumble last time Plo had asked about how he managed to do so.)
What had been was the Meeting between the Council and the Division Heads— The Jedi Order was not run only by the Council, after all.
It wasn’t a major meeting, or rather, it wasn’t supposed to be— it wasn’t a full Council, and about half the division heads weren’t present. And even if it had been supposed to be a major meeting, little would have gotten done anyway.
Not with Cin Drallig and Vokara Che barely paying attention as they checked their comms and answered messages from the instructors and healers respectively, not with Jocasta Nu, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Ki Adi Mundi arguing about the state of the War, and certainly not with the head of the Agricorp and the Grandmaster getting into a rather heated negotiation about supply costs.
No, Plo doubted that much would have gotten done even if all members of the Divisions and Council had been there.
In fact, even less would have and he was certain that if Mace Windu had hair left, it would’ve been ripped out in frustration.
That said, by the time they had been dismissed from the meeting, Plo was almost glad to turn down Master Rancisis’ invite for tea and a game of Dejarik. And at the same time, the other Master seemed almost relieved that he had done so.
His walk to his quarters had been undisturbed after that— to which, he thanked both the Force and the Spirits above for— and by the time he did reach the door, a part of him felt strangely exhausted.
A quick read of his force signature opened the doors— he didn’t bother with the keypad anymore, it had been nearly four hundred years, after all— and he stepped in without a word. A hiss of a sigh escaped him and out through his mask.
The damn thing had been highly uncomfortable all day.
Another sigh left him as he carefully removed his boots and external robe.
Logic dictated that he should eat something, he was nearing the end of the sustainability period after a full meal, after all— but logic hardly mattered to him anymore.
He was exhausted and no amount of food would fix that. And besides, he could eat in the morning. The 104th had time off until the next mission.
And both Sha and his Uncle were in the Temple— he could certainly take time to catch a meal with the both of them. It had been a long time since, after all.
Plo Koon’s musings were cut short, however, upon realizing that there was an extra set of boots by the door. Ones that weren’t his.
It took a moment to run through all possibilities on who the boots could belong to before the familiarity set in.
Ah.
That explained why there was a severe lack of noise in the Council Chambers earlier.
Kit had skipped out on the meeting.
The lack of a full Council could have been explained away with Councilors being busy on the field, though if Kit was here that just meant that he had skipped.
Not that Plo really could blame him.
Like Vokara and Cin, Plo found that only half-full meetings between the Councils and Divisions were rather pointless.
With a shake of his head, the Kel Dor Master extended his senses through the Force, easily locating where his fellow Master and Partner was. He moved through the main sitting area of his quarters silently, making his way to the bedroom.
Sure enough, revered Nautolan Master Kit Fisto was lying sprawled across the bed, scrolling through a thread on his datapad. The blue light of the screen illuminated the room, but otherwise, the light was off.
Plo leaned against the doorframe, smiling slightly. “Pray tell,” he started. “Why are you in my bed?”
The Nautolan’s ahwey perked and he turned his head, looking over at him before a sharp-toothed grin crossed his face. 
“Waitin’ for you to get back," was all he said and Plo let out a soft huff of amusement, flicking the light on before crossing over to the closet. Out of the corner of his eye he watched as Kit went back to reading whatever had caught his interest while he changed.
As much as he did find his normal attire comfortable— and it had been altered and designed by him to be as such— it was nice to be out of the robes and into looser clothes.
“How did the meeting go?” Kit asked as Plo walked back over to the bed. A quick flick of the fingers drew his anti-ox collar from the bedside table via the Force.
He hummed a bit. “It was fine, none of us really wanted to be there, except for the Grandmaster it seemed,” he replied as he unclasped the collar. “Your lineage brother and Master Che seemed to be seeing who was getting the most messages the entire time from their respective divisions.”
Kit snorted out a laugh at that.
“Cin never did like meetings like that.,” Kit mused. And that was an understatement
The Nautolan knew as well as Plo did— and most Jedi— that Cin Drallig did not enjoy being pulled away for what he deemed frivolous things.
Meetings that were of no Major importance and only used for updating the other Division Heads and Councilors fell under that category for him— after all, Plo also knew that the Battlemaster knew most of what was already going on in every corner of the Temple by way of the Guard and gossip.
“He seemed rather put out when he first arrived, yes,” Plo mused before he began to process of connecting the ports in his throat to the collar. He closed the clasp after he was done, resting at the base of his neck, before he took a few breaths. The filters were in working order, air was going through the collar and not his mask.
Ordinarily, Plo would simply activate his own atmosphere. But, that had been a time before moments with Kit had become rare and in-between.
Still, the relief when he removed his mask was instant.
Kel Dor were not made for wearing their masks for longer than a few weeks at a time. Not comfortably at least. There was always a pull on the skin, a feeling of it being too tight, too restrictive. 
Plo rested his mask on the table before falling back against Kit, who just laughed a bit and waved a hand lazily. The lights shut off again and Plo settled back, resting his head against Kit’s and relaxed.
Sleep found him not too long after.
the word ahwey comes from @shadowmaat 
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