🤍clone lover🤍

He shouldn’t, but quietly as if he were afraid of being caught, his hands drifted over his hip and dipped between his thighs. His cock throbbed at the barely-there feeling of his fingers skimming over his slit with ease, slick arousal already eagerly leaking out. His ears drooped with guilt, but his gut tugged with pleasure. A blush prickled across his face, frills laid flat against his cheekbones.

With a raspy gasp, his fingers dipped into his slit, feeling himself grow harder with each swipe. Steb bit his lip to silence the building whines in his throat, he must look pathetic furiously rubbing at himself with his cock still tucked away — too embarrassed for it to come down.

What would you say if you saw him in this state? Would you laugh, sharper than your usual giggle, tease him backhandedly as you refused to take your eyes off his shame? The train of thought made him slow down, disgust aimed at himself weighed heavily on his heart and brought him to his knees, shower water pounding off of his back.

No, you were too kind for that, he thought, he’d seen the way you regarded him with a sense of wonder; staring at his fluttering frills and third eyelid with curiosity burning in your eyes. It was different to the way other people brushed him off, too quiet to be interesting, too vastayan, entwined with magic, to live without a mild fear of being shunned for the connection.

You peppered him with questions however, all unanswered by him but eventually figured out by you, waved at him whenever he walked past with genuine enthusiasm, spoke highly of him when you thought he wasn’t listening. 

Maybe you’d walk in and just watch, curious eyes peeled to the way his hand coaxed out his silky cock and stroked it slowly. Maybe you’d come closer, fixated on him so badly you got on his level, on your knees in front of him — still watching. Maybe you’d speak, in that lovely voice of yours, and tell him about himself.

What would you say? You were keen on praising him, sometimes it was a vague comment, but other times it felt like hearing about a completely different person; someone more competent, caring, gentle than he thought of himself.

Would you say any of that? The thought of you mumbling the words ‘good boy’ in his ear, your own hand coming to replace his own, drew a clipped groan from his lips. Would you tell him he had been doing good, that it was okay? You’d kiss him gently, treating him so preciously despite the way you would pump his cock, restraint cracking as you felt him melt at your touch.

Steb flushed at all the pretty words he wanted you to tell him; hot, pretty, good, yours. The tip of his cock met the rougher skin of his fingers, his mouth dropped open in a silent moan. It felt pleasurable, but your hands — ones he barely felt on him, stealing the barest of exposures from the times you’d tap the side of his head when he wasn’t paying attention — would feel much better.

Unpredictable, they’d skitter over his skin, less bashful than his own. His eyes closed, a pretty picture of your flushed face imagined behind them. The way your lips moved, talking to him or talking about him, was always enrapturing. The thought of huskily hushed compliments tumbling from then in a barely coherent string, too lost in watching his body react to you, made his hips jerk.

But maybe you would be a little teasing, you tended to be like that. Never mean, always careful, you’d draw him into little conversations and chit-chats with a teasing remark every now and again. Maybe the same clever, fond lilt in your voice would tell him to come to you when he was desperate and needing, that you’d be more than happy to help him out.

His cock slipped into his hand fully, thick slick slowly seeping through the cracks between his fingers as he fondled himself. How would you do it? Fast, almost feverish, needing to see him come apart or slowly, teasingly, denying him over and over with a purposeful smirk until you let him come but refused to let up? His cock throbbed.

Still, a sense of guilt stemming from what Steb saw as ‘ruining’ your image lingered over his mind. Abashedly, it mingled with thoughts of your mouth, how it would feel on him.

Hot, wet; you’d run your tongue down him, lather the frills lining his cock with your spit, look up at him with that damn ‘gotcha’ look when his head tipped back from the sensation of you around him.

Eager, you’d sink deeper and deeper, nose brushing the soft, smooth skin of his pelvis. Maybe you’d gag slightly, a glisten of tears welling in your eyes, and he’d have to pull you up to avoid bruising your throat with a violent buck of his hips. Your hair, twisted in his hands. He bit his lips hard at the thought.

He pumped his cock faster, thoughts turning blurry with the mounting pleasure, blushing all the way to his shoulders. You liked to push his buttons just a little, giggling at the irritated flick of his ear when you did, not the type to back down. 

Even if he came, in his mind that wasn’t a guarantee you’d stop sucking him, and you’d keep going until you heard a broken moan tear itself from his throat. The thought of his come dribbling over your lips made his pace stutter, the thought of returning the favour drawing out a quiet, utterly involuntary, whine.

You’d look ruined — such a departure from your usual appearance, so perverse, he thought guiltily — but you’d have gotten off on watching him squirm. Soaking with shower water, letting him mouth at you, take you. It was a greedy thought, one that had pre-come dribbling messily from his flushed head.

You’d sound so good, moans mixing with the pattering water, the pretty words tumbling from your lips garbled with pleasure. God, imagining you so lewdly was wrong but he’d never felt so sensitive, apologies spinning in his head wormed their way into the fantasy; you’d keen and gasp at the feeling of his lips moving over your skin, unaware of the chant-like praise and apology being muttered.

Sinking further into the hot, shameful feeling, Steb’s hand trailed towards his cheek. You were nice, you’d hold him, caress him, and he would give himself to you. It was downright weird, wrong on so many levels, but his cock jumped in his hands when his fingers slipped bare millimetres under his gill slits — imagining it was you.

It was a sting that sent him lurching over, a pain that clashed so weirdly with the fire in his gut, but he shivered at the thought of you being so delicate with him. Maybe it was unfair to think you’d pay enough attention to him to figure out the small detail of his rarely used gills, to think you’d know the weight behind the allowance. He still quietly gasped at his own touch, though.

But maybe you’d think it was too weird? Steb caught himself, no you wouldn’t, you were so kind to him that maybe he could just allow himself this, the thought of your warmth replacing the shower’s — all-consuming.

You’d kiss his neck and whisper so many adoring words while he took you with his cock, bite your lip in mounting bliss, clench around him. His cheeks have never burned hotter.

With a breathless gasp, he came over his hand, spilling over his trembling thighs in thick spurts. His brows pinched and his frills pulsed in time with the throbbing of his cock, more come, pearlescent and sticky, dribbling from his glistening tip with each sensation.

Softly, he thought, you’d kiss him while you came down, not rough and full of desire, but with care and contentment. He sighed into the damp warm air, you’d hold him close, warmer than the water.

Now, what was he going to think when he saw you tomorrow? Steb blushed down to his chest.

You pressed hot kisses against this face forced upon him and sighed in content at each one. His fingers knead the flesh of your hip as you straddle him in his plain, undecorated room, and he listens as your heart thrums quick and hard between your ribs. He undoes your shirt buttons deftly and hums as your hands move to cup his face.  

He was vile. He was the villain in countless stories, the shadow waiting in the dark; he'd told you so countless times. Months upon months piled up like paperwork, but for some reason, you continued to disregard his verbal attacks and senseless force. You stayed, a thorn in his side that continued to remind him that he was still much too human. When he fucks you like a man starved, he finds himself yearning for his long-dead body, for his blue eyes and smooth voice, not for himself, but for you. So you could be normal, you could be warm, and safe, and content. So you could feel more than steel and rage with your gentle touch. 

He brushes his unmoving, metal lips over your neck as your shirt is thrown across the room. He knows that you'll leave him- of course you will. As he helps you discard your shorts, he thinks, and he knows. How could you ever be content with a monster? With a monster who lacks every desirable aspect of humanity, with a monster who can't mutter out I love you, even when it weighs down on his fake tongue and strangles him with its twisting fingers.

And as he enters you, silicone and steel, he knows he will never be enough. No amount of metal can recreate what you need, what you deserve. His hands squeeze your thighs as he fucks up into you, carnally, face shoved into the crook of your neck to stifle his own noises as you moan his name, his real name, and he thinks of what a sick joke his life is; he holds perfection in his hands, he hears it cry his lost name, but he will never be enough. 

"Are you okay?" Your voice comes out breathy, broken, and Kaleb stills within you. You bring a hand to his face, guiding it away from your neck. Of course, you could decipher nothing from his expression, for it never changed, still as the mountains no matter the situation. But you could tell from his silence that something was bothering him behind those yellow eyes.  

"Yeah." Is all he says, and leans in, waiting for you to press a warm kiss against his cold lips. And you do, humming as he moves his hips again, slowing the pace slightly.  

You want to prod; you want to beg him for his real thoughts. But getting those out of Kaleb was nigh impossible. Rarely, on a cool summer night stargazing, something about his past or present turmoil will spill from his lips, and you cherish it, you love his words because you love him. But you knew that pushing him for vulnerability was a mistake, no matter how much your heart hurt for him.  

And he knew he was stupid. He knew that he was ruining the one good thing in his pathetic life by not opening up, by fucking you and pretending there was nothing to it besides lust. His eyes are trained on you as you throw your head back with a moan; he eyes the bead of sweat rolling down your neck, he eyes your lips, your closed eyes, the curve of your nose. He feels the ghost of his heart flutter and thump with humanity, and he hates it.  

He hates it because he knows, deep down in the pitiful thing he calls a soul, he knows that you will leave him. He knows that this will not last, that the butterflies in his chassis that swarm when he sees you will die, because you will realise that he can offer you nothing. He shoves his face back into your neck as he cums, mechanical hips stuttering against your bruised skin, a synthesised groan of both ecstasy and agony crawling from his throat.  

You drag him down into bed with you, and unlike every other time, you are met with no resistance. You cling to his metal frame like ivy, sighing at all the words left unsaid that linger in the air, making it stale and unbreathable.  

"Kaleb?" You ask with a nervous lilt.  

"Hm?" His hum sounds somehow exhausted.  

"You know I'd never leave you, right?"  

"I know. You tell me this every day." He wants to slam his head against the wall for responding to your sincerity with sarcasm. Yet, despite your constant statements, he can't bring himself to believe you- because he knows better. He knows that eventually you'll run off. As soon as you get a taste of the humanity absent in Kaleb through someone else, you will leave. It'll fill your lungs and pump through your heart like fire, and you'll be wondering why you wasted your time on him at all.

But, even so- as you mumble against his chest and hold him somehow tighter, he can't crush that fluttering of hope inside him that maybe...  

Hunter x F!Reader Word Count: 3k Content: groping, kissing, titty suckin, fingering, being politely bent over the knee, bangin in a few positions, and a few bad words.

READ PART ONE HERE

Months passed, and you couldn’t believe your luck, that the quick-witted, clever, insightful, and damn sexy Sergeant of Clone Force 99 seemed to feel the same way about you as you did about him. You’d exchanged information, messaging as much as possible when he wasn’t putting his life on the line in death-defying shenanigans, and you’d see each other whenever he was on world. You’d surreptitiously worked out your own work schedule to be able to split your time between Kamino and Coruscant, allowing you to see him more often, and you felt giddy as you thought of all the deep kisses and passionate groping that you’d enjoyed in a variety of closets, storage crates, empty barracks, and dark alleyways. 

Things had progressed deliciously, the two of you exploring one another’s bodies in an increasingly wide variety of ways. You’d always been self-conscious, but the way he could wrap himself around you and drown you in raw passion was unlike anything you’d ever experienced. It was intoxicating, the increasing vulnerability and authenticity in all areas, as you grew to know one another through and through. The trust, connection, and comfort was incredibly special to you, and you were excited to see where it would lead. It had been ages since he’d been to Coruscant, and far too long since you’d seen each other, so when you received his message to let you know he had an entire night to spend however he liked, you were beyond excited. 

You cleaned your apartment like mad, working yourself nearly into exhaustion, then took the most thorough shower of your life. Shaving, exfoliating, and scrubbing was followed by moisturizing and fretting over what to wear. The tone of your messages of late had been decidedly hungrier, and unless you were wildly off base, you had a feeling there would be a new level of desire this evening. He’d given little hints of “the things he wanted to do to you”, and just the thought of all that might await made you ache between the legs. You dried your hair, brushing it until it was soft as silk as you sipped a glass of sparkling wine, then stood in front of your closet, trying to gauge what the perfect vibe would be. 

Pleasantly buzzed from the wine and absolutely drunk with excitement, you dug out a wrinkled paper bag from the back of a shelf, dumping its contents on the bed. A messy pile of lingerie sat before you – stuff you’d bought in your younger days when you were more ambitious and less realistic – and you picked up thing after thing, squinting in estimation of how it might look. Finally, you saw the perfect set and pulled it on, examining yourself in the mirror with a giddy, carefree attitude. You pulled a long, satin robe over the whole thing, then wondered if that was too presumptuous… which made you laugh out loud. He was coming in late, past dinnertime for you at least, but you had a little something ready just in case, and you busied yourself with final touches to your face, hair, and apartment as you waited. 

Ding dong.

Your heart leapt in your chest as you flung the door open, so happy to see him after so long. You had to do a double-take, jaw dropping a bit as you took in the whole sight of him. He had ditched the armor, the only thing you’d ever seen him in, and instead was sporting civilian clothing that was positively drool-worthy: perfectly-fitted jeans and a dark green henley sat beneath a rugged jacket that hung from his broad shoulders. 

“Holy kriff,” you gawked, backing up to invite him in but unable to take your eyes off of him. “What’s all this?”

“A snaaaaack,” he said in a voice that made you both burst into laughter.

“Okay, never say that again,” you declared once you’d regained your breath. “I have so many questions.”

“I lost a bet to Echo, so I had to say that,” Hunter explained, grinning as he drew close to you again. “As for the outfit, Tech offered it as ‘a calculated presentation not dissimilar to the breeding displays of animals’, so I couldn’t pass up on that.”

“Oh my gosh.” You were speechless, momentarily forgetting all that you were wearing and had been dreaming of for this evening. But Hunter hadn’t forgotten. He stepped closer, toying with your waist as he gazed at you fondly. 

“So… you like… breeding displays… I can’t do this, I’m sorry,” he laughed, shaking his head and returning to his usual stoicism a bit. “I’m just happy to see you.”

“You too,” you said, more softly now, as your mind wandered back to everything before you. You ran your hands up his arms and across his chest, reveling in the little tease of the unbuttoned neckline of his henley shirt, and pulled his jacket from his shoulders to toss onto the table nearby. He pulled you in, cupping your face and brushing a thumb along your cheek, and you relaxed into his embrace, falling silent for a while and just basking in the happiness of his presence. You closed your eyes, tilting your head into his hand, and let out a little sigh.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispered huskily, and you opened your eyes with a giggle.

“How many times do I have to tell you that you don’t have to ask anymore?”

“Oh, right. Must have forgotten.”

Then his mouth was on yours, tender and sweet at first, lips sliding along your own with delicate precision. They were so soft, pressing and pulling, again and again as the intensity grew and his head tilted to kiss you more deeply. His hand remained on your jaw, fingers splayed along your neck, and the other flattened across the small of your back, pulling you flush against him. You savored every part of him that you could feel, from his muscular thigh to his broad chest, and you gasped quietly when his lips blazed a train to your neck. He carefully slid the silky fabric of your robe off your shoulder, pressing a few lingering kisses along your collarbone before lifting his face to yours again. 

He studied you with a mix of affection and desire, gently running his fingers through your hair before gripping a fistful and kissing you again, harder this time. You lost yourself in it, dizzy from the way his chest rose and fell against you, his hands heavier as they roamed your hips… Your own fingers explored his stomach and caressed his arms as you writhed against him, feeling your entire body coming alive more and more with all the pent-up yearning and hunger. 

“Bedroom?” you gasped, pulling back for a breath of air after a particularly intense bout of kisses. 

“Eventually,” he said, eyes dark with desire now as he toyed with the hem of your robe. A jolt of electricity ran through you, and you slid your hands beneath his shirt, pulling it up over his head before returning your palms to his front. He slipped his own fingers past your satin robe, which was starting to messily hang open now, and you arched your back with a sharp inhale as he traced his fingers along the curve of your side, up toward the cream-colored bra you’d chosen. It was nothing flashy, unlike the strappy, lacy numbers you’d considered, but was made of the most irresistibly soft silk you’d ever felt, and you smiled against his mouth as he stiffened the slightest bit when his hands reached it. You knew how to intoxicate his senses. 

His fingers grazed your breast, the thin fabric doing nothing to conceal the pebbling of your nipple in response. Kissing you again, he brought his other hand up, grasping both sides with a gentle firmness that got another breathy inhale out of you. He nestled his nose against the side of your face, staggering his legs between your own and whispering against your ear. 

“The things I want to do to you…” he purred, and you swallowed hard, tilting your face into his as his touch on your chest grew heavier, cupping and fondling, teasing and stroking. You were aching for him so badly, slick between your legs, and when he gently squeezed both nipples at once, you couldn’t hold back a quiet moan. There was a feral edge to his voice, a restraint to his touch, and you were wildly aroused at the thought of what his unrestrained passion would look like.

“Fuck me,” you whispered, placing a firm hand over the bulge in his pants and smiling faintly at his hiss in response. “I mean it,” you continued, and that alone seemed to send him over the edge. He turned you around in a flash, pulling you back against him as his hands roamed freely across your front, scooping up a breast as he raked his teeth along your neck. He kissed and suckled, rolling a nipple between his fingers as the other hand ventured down, across your stomach, and over your thinly-clothed mound. Stepping away for a split second, he tugged your robe off, tossing it aside and returning to his ravaging position, radiating heat against your back as he teased along your panty line. 

“I think I’ll make you wait, just a little…” he murmured against your shoulder, dipping his fingers beneath the silk underwear to tease along the edges of your folds. You stepped your legs a little further apart, his other arm bracing across the front of your shoulders as he kissed your neck again. 

“Let’s see how long you can,” you challenged, feeling him stiffen against you with his own yearning. You lifted an arm behind your head, burying your fingers in his hair and leaning your head to the side, tilting your hips toward his hand as it stroked feather-light against your clit. Biting back the curses, you shifted back a little, grinding against his hard length and reveling in his low groan in response. 

“Playing games, are we?” He pressed his fingers a little harder, teasing you with a few circles that sent tingles radiating throughout your entire body before pulling away and moving toward the couch, quickly shedding all remaining clothing as he went. You felt positively feral at the sight of him, messy and carnal, and dropped your robe as you followed. He sat down, spreading his legs, and you were ready to drop to your knees, but he reached for you gently, stopping you with your hips in front of his face, where he kissed and bit your side as he slowly slid your panties down your legs. You were a mess already, not wanting to wait another second to ride him into the sunset, but he had you absolutely enraptured, and the dominant energy radiating off of him was intoxicating. 

He kissed your stomach, gazing up at you with unbridled lust, and the sight alone nearly sent you into orbit. He was so incredibly hot, so free in his passion… When he carefully guided you to lay across his thighs, face down, you gasped as the cool air hit your pussy, slightly spread as your knees rested off to the sides. He caressed your face again, holding it up so it wasn’t dangling uncomfortably, then raked his fingernails up the inside of a thigh. You writhed beneath his touch, one hand wrapping around his ankle in an attempt to ground yourself from the heady pleasure washing over you from head to toe. He traced his fingers across your folds, up and down, then teased the inside of the other thigh. You whined. You couldn’t help it. You’d been waiting long enough. A smile touched his lips, and he moved his hand back up, stroking firm fingers across you again, from your clit to your opening, then back again. He slowly circled your clit again, then nudged his fingers against your opening, sinking in just a bit before returning to the up and down slide that was threatening to make you come from that alone. 

“Hunter,” you breathed against his thigh, holding onto him for dear life as your legs twitched behind you. He pressed in again, deeper this time, then stroked you again and again. The rhythm was euphoric, and his cock was hard against your side as he slid his fingers back and forth, dipping in and out. When he turned his hand slightly to reach that sensitive spot inside, you were seeing stars, panting against his hand as he pressed inside of you, one finger still dragging along your clit. “Please,” you begged, truly unable to take any more. He picked up on your tone and slowly released you, carefully helping you to your feet, where you immediately straddled him, sinking onto his lap. He pulled the silky bra off, inhaling sharply as your breasts spilled into his hands, and he brought his mouth to them immediately, swirling his tongue amid kisses and suckles. 

You arched into his ravaging, his hands roving up and down your back as you rocked against his cock, hard between the two of you. You wanted to take him right there, and buried your hands in his hair, angling yourself to guide him in. He paused for a moment as though thinking, and then his eyes clenched shut in absolute bliss as you sank down on him, slowly. He grunted an expletive, tipping his chin toward his chest and gripping your waist with desperate concentration. You began to move, savoring every second as he slid along your walls, teasing your entrance with his tip and then taking him back in. When he bottomed out, the friction was incredible, and you tilted your hips to enjoy it more. His hands grasped your ass, lifting you slightly to allow him to press into you, slowly at first, then a bit harder as you moaned your ecstasy against his hair.

“So perfect,” he gasped, the sound of his thighs slapping against you nearly drowning out his worshipful words. He thrust again and again, hitting that spot deep inside and grinding on your clit at the same time. You grabbed the back of the couch, breasts bouncing in his face, and he took one in his mouth again, toying with it with his tongue. The tension was building, and you were sure you were about to go over the edge, but he slowed, causing you to gasp in indignation.

“How dare–”

In one ridiculously smooth motion, because this is fantasy after all, he rose to his feet, scooping you in his arms on the way. Next thing you knew, you were laid flat on your bed, spread out before him on your back as he stood beside the edge, stroking himself as he looked at you with feral hunger. 

“I’ll make up for it,” he smirked, sliding his length along your slick folds, the bottom of his cock teasing your clit. He held your legs at his sides, slowly gliding back and forth against you as your pussy clenched around nothing, yearning for him to fill you up again. When he finally did, you reached your arms above your head, grasping the sheets in pure bliss as he sank in, bottoming out with an intoxicating press of the hips against you. It was the most mind-blowing angle, and he began to thrust again, releasing your legs to bend over you, pressing his hand into the bed beside your head. You turned into his wrist, burying your face in his forearm and panting against his skin as he lowered his head, heavy kisses peppered across your collarbone before he drew a flat tongue over a nipple again. 

He was the best you’d ever had. You were on another plane of existence, lost in his musky scent, the raw sounds coming from him, the careful strength and consuming passion… He looped an arm beneath your shoulders, cupping the back of your head as you curled your chin to your chest, picking your legs up higher to take him deeper. He groaned his restraint, holding your head close against his neck as he snapped his hips against you again and again. It was so intimate and feral all at once, his body sliding against yours as he fucked you senseless. You could tell he was getting close, and he released you to stand back upright, caressing a bouncing breast with one hand while the other moved between your legs. When he touched your clit, still thrusting the perfect rhythm at an angle that was sending deep waves of pleasure throughout your core, you felt your own climax building at breakneck speed. Your breaths grew faster, whimpers and moans louder, and he didn’t change a thing, circling your clit with the pads of his fingers as he drove his cock into you again and again. 

White-hot fireworks exploded across your consciousness, wracking your body with sparkling euphoria as your pussy clenched around him. You couldn’t hold back, mewling encouragement as he continued, chasing his own release as you rode the high. He came with a growl, panting words that you couldn’t make out through his heavy breaths, and his throbbing cock and hot release sent you right back up, drawing out your orgasm even longer as every nerve in your body fired with delight. As his pumping slowed, hot and messy, you remembered to breathe again, shuddering involuntarily as he eventually stilled, holding himself inside of you as he gently bent over you, brushing the hair back from your face and kissing you with unfathomable gentleness and reverence. You couldn’t move, instead remained lying there motionless, grinning like an idiot in the dim light. 

“Let’s do that again,” you murmured, ecstatic and the small snort from him as he nuzzled against your cheek. 

“I’m gonna need about twenty minutes.”

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