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The same sweet, goofy Qimir who always greets you with a lopsided grin, constantly annoys you about drinking enough water, and trips when he walks up the stairs or even flat ground.

But tonight’s circumstances were different. Both of you were dressed up formally to infiltrate a Senate Gala undercover. 

Him, working as a waiter, his signature disheveled hair temporarily tamed in a small bun and wearing a uniform that highlighted his broad shoulders you weren’t accustomed to. You, adorning a floor-length red halter dress that hugged your body in all the right places. 

The second he saw you step into the ballroom, he stammered into his ear-piece (“Wow, you look—wow.”). And when you blended in by grabbing a drink from his tray, his eyes could not help but roam your body. Your exposed shoulders, the expanse of your bare back, and the amount of leg showing with your high slit. 

After finishing your tasks for the night, you two stormed off in the Exile II to a nearby planet, seeking refuge at a run-down safehouse. What began as winding down with a few drinks soon morphed into spontaneous slow-dancing without any music.

You’ve always had a soft spot for him, and when he mustered the courage to tell you how gorgeous you looked tonight, followed by the loaded question—if he could kiss you—you obviously said yes. 

Which led to this current beautiful scene being played out on this grungy, old couch. 

In his loosened button-up shirt, Qimir kisses so delicately, each movement and touch just as gentle, perfectly reflecting his personality. Frankly, you’re not expecting anything more than a pleasant evening with a coworker you've grown to adore. If he's spectacular in bed, that’s merely a bonus. 

As his lips leave yours and travel to the side of your neck, you arch into him while your hands bunch up the fabric of his shirt. He holds you close, lips never straying from your skin, and lowers you down onto the couch.

But then, your eyes drift up to the ceiling, and the weight of where you are and who owns this place hits you again, causing you to tense up. 

“Stop thinking about him,” Qimir murmurs against your neck, his hands kneading your waist. This elicits a low groan from you, pulling you back into the moment.

“But what if he—”

“He’ll never know,” he cuts in reassuringly. 

“And if he does?”

“He’ll be fine with this,” he insists, tone bordering frustration. 

“How do you know?” 

Drawing away from your neck, he gazes down at you with a hand braced on the couch’s armrest. His messy, yet gorgeous, hair nearly brushes against your face. When he palms your cheek, his eyes soften. 

“Just be with me for tonight. All of you. Don’t think about anything else besides you and me. Can you do that for me?” 

You glance up at him for a few beats, taking in his beauty, along with his saccharine pleading words. Then, with a small smile, you nod. 

Suddenly, like lightning cutting through a storm, a smirk replaces Qimir’s warmth.   

“Good girl,” he says, his voice now a lower, more seductive tone than you’re used to. You reflexively tighten at the praise.  

Swiftly, he unties your halter dress and pulls the fabric down, baring your breasts to the cool air. 

You gasp sharply as his mouth descends, capturing your nipple between his teeth, gently nipping before he swirls and darts his tongue against it. Your fingers tug at his hair, while his free hand kneads your other breast, his thumb strumming and teasing the hardened tip. 

Hovering over your body, he trails kisses along your skin, switching his attention from one breast to the other, ensuring every inch of your chest is teased and pleasured. 

Eventually, his hand slides down from your breast, the tips of his fingers grazing you in a slow, deliberate path until they find their way between your legs. 

Your breath becomes ragged and your eyes tremble as he drags two fingers over your thin underwear. 

“Fuck,” he chuckles, and you detect a cocky note to it, “you’re so wet for me already.” 

His cockiness, paired with the vulgar comment, makes you shiver. You involuntarily buck your hips in need; he continues to chuckle, clearly indulging his power over you and how weak you become by a mere touch. 

Qimir deftly pushes your panties to one side and plunges his digits into you. Your hands slip underneath his button-up shirt, fingers pressing into the smooth skin of his upper back and shoulders while your rising moans and needy whimpers fill the room. 

But he’s far from finished—he jacks his fingers straighter, angling them even deeper than before.

Your whimpers evolve into heavy groans and wails, your fingers practically leaving marks on him. If he was this good with just his fingers, you were dying to know what he could do with his cock. Despite the raw pleasure, he grounds you with the press of his forehead against yours.

For the cherry on top, his thumb rubs your clit in small circles, each stroke sending you closer to the edge. 

“Be a good girl and come for me.” 

And you obediently do so with the rolling of your eyes, the uncontrollable jolting of your hips, and the ceaseless panting of his own name into Qimir's lips. 

You take a second to come down from your high, but decide not to waste any time and pull away from underneath Qimir to shimmy out of your dress and panties, standing up and kicking them off beside the foot of the couch.

He sits relaxed on the couch now with a hand behind his head, watching you intently as you, now completely bare, drop to your knees in front of him. 

Your hands tremble in anticipation when you reach for his pants, evidently feeling his desire around the seams. Removing his pants and undergarment to his ankles, your breath catches in your throat at the sight of his cock springing up against his shirt.

Said shirt is in the way, so Qimir unbuttons it fully and you become slack-jawed over his gorgeous abs, so awestruck that you can’t resist stroking them. 

You continue to touch his abs as you hold his length in your other hand, gifting him gradual, firm strokes. Qimir releases a soft moan, leaning his head back while one of his hands squeeze your shoulder tenderly. 

Finally, you take him into your mouth. On your knees, you worship him. Your tongue traces every inch of him and your lips and palm work together in tandem until his length is slick with your devotion. 

In this moment, you feel an unspoken, strong reverence for Qimir. You can’t explain why you feel this way, but you let your body speak for itself. Each motion you provide is a testament to how much you respect him—as if letting him fill your mouth completely, even occasionally hitting the back of your throat, will prove your admiration.

Although he watches your every move, in such moments such as when you take him fully, squeeze his length harder, or suck hard on his blunt head, his composure slips; he releases throaty groans and his eyes lose focus.

At one point, he warns you he’s close, and you retreat, not wanting the evening to end just yet. Decisively, he rids of his shirt, revealing the expanse of his upper body, and steps out of his other clothes. You ogle at his presence; the more you experience Qimir tonight, the more you realize just how little you know about him.  

Gently taking you by your wrist, Qimir guides you to bend forward in front of him on the couch. You’re surprised at this unexpected position from what you anticipated—a more traditional one like missionary—since it places him in control and leaves you vulnerable, with your face turned away from his. 

His hands grip your hips firmly, and he lines himself up behind you. He eases into you slowly, and you throw your head back when he’s fully inside. Once you’ve adjusted, his thrusts are slow and deep. You savor the feeling of him inside of you, gripping the couch for release with each penetration. 

He leans closer, his breath hot against your ear. “Do you feel me? Every inch of me?” 

You nod, breathless and overwhelmed.

“And do you like it?” 

“I do”—you gasp, throwing your head back at a sudden thrust—“I love it so much.” 

“Such a good girl…” Qimir presses a kiss at the nape of your neck. Just as you're about to lean into it, he’s already gone. 

He removes himself from your warmth, disappointment rising within you in the form of a pout, but he quickly turns you around. 

Qimir lays you on the couch again beneath him once more. As he re-enters you, you think about how the vulnerability of your previous position pales in comparison to this. Now, this position makes you feel even more exposed with how he pins you down with his tenacious gaze with each thrust into your pussy.

Then, intensity flickers in his eyes. His gaze sharpens, and you sense his desire for something more, particularly with how hard he grips your waist. 

“I’m–I’m going to place my hand around your neck,” he pants. “If it’s too much at any point, you double-tap me and I’ll stop. Do you understand?”

You nod, drowning in the pleasure, and you barely whisper, “I understand.” 

His fingers first trace the contours of your throat, barely touching it, almost as if he's giving you one last out to say no if you want. But you don't want to; your curiosity is piqued for this darker, dominant side of Qimir you've never seen before.

His hand wraps around your throat with a firm, yet controlled pressure. You can feel the tightness and the pulse of your own blood under his touch, but the sensation is exhilarating, never crossing into pain.

When you don't seem to mind the amount of pressure, Qimir pushes you further, strengthening his hold against the sides of your windpipes. You moan harder, your pussy clenching in tandem with the thrill.

“Remember to breathe,” he instructs. “Focus on how good I feel inside of you.”

Seeing this intense, commanding side of Qimir is addicting. You want more—no, you need more of him like this. Your eyes roll, feeling the rising tension in the pits of your abdomen.

Your gaze drifts to the point where you and he connect, captivated by the sight of his relentless thrusts. You watch the way his body moves against yours, each thrust pushing you closer and closer.

“Look at me as I fuck you,” he demands, his gaze unyielding the whole time. 

You struggle to keep your eyes locked on his, but you try your best to in order to avoid disappointing him. At this point, he's almost just as much of a mess as you: hair sticking to his perspired forehead, eyelids fluttering, teeth gritting hard as if he's holding himself back.

“Good girl. That’s my good”—he hesitates with an elongated moan—“my good girl.”

Pleasure seizes you both, and your faces contort in ecstasy. Jagged moans permeate the air as you come undone first, with Qimir following behind as he paints your stomach with thick, white streaks.

After the clean-up, you lie on the couch on your side, facing him. On the other hand, he’s facing the ceiling with a hand above his head, and you’re in disbelief over the fact that he hides such a toned and chiseled form underneath layers of clothes all the time. You take advantage of the moment and let your hands graze the planes of his chest.

“You’re a completely different person when sex is on the table,” you observe with a hint of awe. 

“Yeah?” He glances at you with a glimmer of a smirk. His voice seems huskier than usual, more seductive really. “Do you like that side of me?” 

“I do,” you admit shyly. 

His hand reaches out from beneath the sheet over your bodies, brushing against your thigh. “Wasn’t too much for you?” 

You shake your head. “Not at all.” 

“Do you…” He absentmindedly draws shapes on your skin. “Do you prefer that side of me over how I normally am?” 

You think about it for a second.

“No,” you say with confidence, reaching for him and tucking some of his loose hair behind his ear. “That was undoubtedly one of the hottest things I’ve ever experienced, but I also like how you are with me every day. You respect me, you treat me well, and you make me laugh all the time; you’re one of the funniest guys I know.” 

“On that note”—he leans in to rub his nose against the top of your arm before placing a light kiss on the same area—“can you call me master when we have sex?” 

You immediately swat him on his chest and laugh. “Oh, my God!” 

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” he says, his pitch now returning to its normal state. “Unless…?” 

“If you’re really into it, I’ll consider it.” you tease, then look away. The mention of the word drags you back to reality. “What are we going to do about him?” 

“I told you already; he’s fine with it,” he says dismissively, waving a hand. It bothers you that he doesn’t seem to care, but then you squint and wonder…

“You say that as if he already knows.” 

He shrugs. “Maybe he does.” 

Your eyes widen as your suspicions seem to be true. “Did you tell him?!” 

“No,” he grunts, “but, I mean, he probably has the place bugged.”

“Oh, God…” You bury your face in one of your hands. “He’s not gonna be happy, especially if he heard everything. I do not look forward to training tomorrow.” 

“Like I said,” he takes one of your hands and presses a kiss onto the inside of your wrist, “he’ll be fine with it. I’m willing to bet on it.”

“You don’t know him like I do, Qimir! How do you know it’ll be okay?” 

“Trust me, all right?” He smiles and plants a gentle kiss on your forehead before pulling you into his arms—

The prospect of death was certainly an option. Nearly a guarantee since Qimir was known to have little patience. This was reason enough for Menall to look over to his guards and say, “Give it to him, you idiots!”

Before Qimir could finish wiping the red liquid off of his hands with the robe Menall wore, his goon came back with a small box. Once it was given in hand, Qimir opened it and glanced at the item before snapping the container close immediately.

“Thank you," he bowed. "It was a pleasure doing business with you,” he said.

Before he could go, a silver dagger materialized from his hands, and just as quickly, Qimir had swiped at the merchant and took off his ear. The piece of tender flesh hit the ground before Menall could recognize the pain. However, when he did, he was howling even above Qimir's cool tone.

“Shhh,” was all Qimir said before the man was holding and choking on his sobs like hot vomit. With a few painful cries from within the merchant’s throat cutting through, Qimir said, “Remember, I don't like repeating myself.”

Once he was out the door, the only clue that he was ever there was a few coins to cover the difference of the newer sensor and a surgeon that could reattach the man’s ear.

The seediest parts of the city Qimir lived in had much to avoid at night but it was still a city that never went quiet. Parts of it were still mesmerizing and lively enough to enjoy on every late-night walk he took. On his journey home, he passed restaurants and markets that emitted laughter brighter than light. For most of the journey, beaming bulbs from each restaurant’s insides made his hood glow and lit the lower part of his face that wasn't obscured. He only stopped once to make a brief purchase before he was back on his way.

~

The clock within your vision read twenty minutes before midnight when the sound of his footsteps filled the quiet of the surroundings. You were pulled out of your book when you heard Qimir stumbling in. The sounds stopped when he recklessly landed on the couch before his feet could give in from exhaustion.

Qimir could hear your feet make their way over to him as he let the couch consume him like quicksand. Once he let out a heavy exhale and opened his eyes, there you were across from him on the couch. You stared at him like a rabbit as you went over his state.

“You smell of alcohol,” you spoke as if it were a trivia question.

When he looked over to you, his eyes were half-lidded. “At least your other senses work,” he says with a faint but teasing smile. He wasn't entirely done with working on you but he was too selfish to wait until he could find all the parts that he wanted once your appearance was a carbon copy of what you looked like just before you died.

He let his eyes shut briefly to let his spine melt. You moved closer and let your eyes inspect his body and the way he chose to relax. Parts of your vision picked up on his state as you processed every important and unimportant detail of him. 

“You’re hurt,” you said as you looked at the split skin on his knuckles. They were red from irritation and were darker in some crevices.

Qimir let out one last sigh before he brought his other hand to hold your face. The one that wasn’t marred with dried evidence that he hastily tried to wipe off as he was walking in. He always saved one throughout the confrontation so when he reached for you, he wouldn't stain you with his consequences.

You leaned closer until you were only a whisper away from his face. Qimir could feel his heart rapping in his ears as he heard you say plainly, “May I help?”

The way your chest rose and fell was so convincing as you looked at him for permission to proceed. He should have said no. You needed fixing first but there he was fighting his greed and self-loathing like a bruised villain. You didn’t even register a "yes" before he was taking your soft hands and navigating inside his pants.

With the day he had, he didn’t want foreplay and he knew teasing would only make him break the wood of the sofa in frustration. So, Qimir placed your hands on his warm member all the while you kept your focus on his eyes which almost made him come into your hands right then and there. 

“What should I do?” you asked. You were still adapting and hadn’t learned how to completely improvise yet.

“Stroke me,” he couldn’t hold back the way he nearly sounded like he was begging.

You wrapped your cold hand around him. Qimir felt something travel up his throat and get stuck there. You took your time with moving back and forth like he hadn't just begged you to start, “like this?” you asked.

He pulled you closer to his chest by the back of your neck and you immediately placed your free hand on his chest to hold yourself steady. You processed the gesture as a confirmation as you kept your focus. Your shining eyes stayed steady on him as Qimir felt every vein in his shaft go cold from your frigid strokes. His lips let out a breathy groan as his brown eyes danced to find somewhere to look to last longer.

“F-faster,” his voice shook as sweat traveled from his forehead to his bobbling Adam’s apple. He was already hot from the alcohol.

Your hand was steadily increasing in speed to the point where you had to pull his warm cock out to meet the cold air of the room for a better grip. His tip was just as rosey as the tips of his ears. A few drops of come had leaked out before that you used it to further lubricate your increasing speed. He let out another moan at that point that was louder than the last.

Certainly, Qimir’s heart rate made it obvious to you that he was soon to climax but what made it all the more evident was how to lept to kiss you. His biceps caged you under him on the couch. He never stopped rolling into your wet hand as he consumed your lips.

So his moans kept spilling out of his mouth to yours. However, you hadn’t returned the offering which was the whole reason for his reluctance in the first place. He fought all of heaven and earth to pull himself from your kisses. In the same shaky breath, he gripped your wrist tightly to stop your stroking.

“Is something wrong?” your eyes danced from his eyes to his lips and back.

He let his hand stroke your hair as he spoke, “Are you enjoying this,” he said.

You looked at him puzzled, “I am,” you said plainly. It almost made Qimir laugh with how factual you had made it sound. He had no doubts but this was another one of those learning curves.

“It’s hard to tell when you never make a sound,” he said. The way the gears were already shifting and within a few seconds he was sure you had pocketed that feedback into a part of your processing.

“Like this?” you said before crashing your lips into him and releasing a sigh into his mouth to return him the favor. 

Qimir had practically melted into your flowery mouth as he rushed to place his hand over yours that was wrapped around his swollen shaft. He quickened your pace and let you continue to bruise his lips as he nodded fervently to encourage the way you were latching to each other.

It was only a matter of time before he released a rumbling “fuck” from his chest. He collapsed as a white string of his release squirted over his pants.

~

When Qimir woke up a few hours into the night, he discovered himself to be passed out on the couch and you ended up in another room, charging. The mild headache that he felt meant nothing to him as he walked through his home. You were peacefully rested on a long platform completely still as the only indicator of your functioning being was a glowing ring that could power you off or reset you entirely. He followed the ring like it was a lighthouse as the sound of rain hit against window like pebbles.

Qimir pulled a large, duvet from his bed on his way and draped it over you once he was close enough. He straightened out the parts of it that missed covering you before he slid next to you onto the cold platform. It wasn’t at all comfortable. Oftentimes, he would wake up with a bad back but it didn't matter. This was a habit he formed when he first got you and paranoia never let him sleep for long when you weren’t within reach.

When you woke up a few hours after Qimir, you walked around the apartment before you descended the stairs into where the rest of the safe parts of the city knew him as an apothecary. You passed the trinkets that decorated the space that were older than your body was. Qimir caught you eyeing them one day and told you that he had given them to you every time he returned from an overnight mission so it gave you a sense of responsibility to dust them whenever you could. This applied to the rest of the place which was only able to stay clean because you had nothing better to do than to wake up, contemplate humanity, and head back to your charging station. 

Most of your consciousness was taken from your body and placed inside of an android and you were left to relearn how to practice humanity. You didn’t understand how Qimir felt about it until one day he had come to see you staring at a drawing that was the spitting image of you. At the time, your eyes adjusted and readjusted to take in every detail as you took in new information while he was frozen at the door. It went like this for a few moments before he took the journal you had found and snapped it shut.

“You’re home,” you told him.

“Yeah,” he was putting the journal away.

“Was that me?” is what your database remembers saying.

“Don’t worry about it,” he told you before he kissed you on your forehead and ushered you downstairs.

Now, you were descending the stairs to meet him in his medicinal store that wasn’t open yet. He was sleeping when you saw him. You didn’t know much about anything to do with emotions but you did know that the perpetual crease in his brow and frown on his lips only went away when he was sleeping. It didn’t go away when he was drinking but he still did it. So, you spent a few seconds alone mixing plants and solutions before you woke him up.

“Today’s weather is sunny with slight chances of rain in the evening,” you recited as he stirred out of his sleep with your shakes to his shoulder.

“Most people just say that the weather is nice outside,” he groaned out of his sleep as he stretched. You pushed the small tube of blue solution toward him. “What’s this?” he said.

“You’re showing signs of dehydration. Follow this up with water,” you told him.

Qimir took the tube out of your hand for his hangover but took you as well as an offering. Without a warning, you were on his lap so suddenly. He didn't even need to touch you for you to end up there which was still a power of his you were adjusting to.

“Thank you,” he told you after finishing it in one swing. You could feel the way his heart was racing as he suddenly buried his face in the crook of your neck. To him, it was so impressive how your skin mimicked flesh so eerily. As he bit against your neck and let himself massage your collar with his mouth, he knew it would never bruise but it didn’t matter. This was the only thing keeping him from walking into the Jedi temple and causing a massacre or diving over the edge. He had created an indiscernible replacement that was doing a damn good job of keeping him from processing his grief.

When he was done, he moved to place you on top of the shop counter. It was closed that day so he was reaching for his shawl to head to the market.

“Are you going somewhere?” you asked him. 

“Yeah, I need to get you a better battery.”

“Can I come too?”

Your request stopped him dead in his tracks as he went over every possibility. He was ready to shoot you down, tell you that it wasn’t safe outside, but your words were progress. This was the first time you had asked for anything. Also, it wouldn’t hurt to have you have more stimuli to process. So he took off the shawl he had on and draped it over you just before taking your hand to lead you outside and into the city.

It was all so electrifying the way your senses were being overwhelmed by the environment. The foreign sounds of crowds coming and going from all directions were all you were inputting at first. Qimir was grasping your hand securely as you threaded to and fro with his destination in mind. You couldn’t help the way your eyes wandered all over in contrast to his focused gaze. Everything smelled like the rain that came suddenly in the middle of the night and every voice sounded like raindrops in a large storm.

Eventually, you made it to the market and the pace that you were keeping up with was decreased. Perhaps it was the more slowed-down atmosphere or the way your bright eyes were eager to take in everything but Qimir finally let go of your hand.

“Stay close,” he said as he walked around.

Qimir spent most of his time at the market looking over sellers until he came up disappointed in their selection and moved on to the next one. The both of you would walk up to a booth, and Qimir would ask a few questions about the variety, the seller may have even got as far as showing him a few battery options, but he'd eventually be on his way.  This repeated until he had broken the comfortable silence between the both of you.

“See anything you like?” he said.

But, you didn’t respond. The first few seconds weren’t a concern since he was hoping to give you time but when Qimir turned around to find you, you weren’t there. 

The way the ground was rushed from under him was instant.

His head whipped around as he watched people walk so casually passed him like he wasn’t distressed over your absence. He cut and pushed through strangers as he looked for signs of the brown shawl that he had given you. It felt like it was happening all over again which was making his hands clam up as he tried to materialize you out of thin air.

He was seconds away from throwing all he had worked for just to throw up all the tables at the market with the wave of his hand until the part of his brain looking for something to gnaw on found your voice amongst a sea. He went running without question and had his hands gripping onto your shoulder tight by the next breath.

“[Name]!”

“Qimir,” you looked up at him without any concern even though his eyes had looked as though he'd seen hell.

“I told you,” he was still catching his breath but it was clear to you that he was upset with the edge and volume in his voice “to stay close! And you just–”

“I’m sorry,” you told him. Qimir didn’t even get a chance to reprimand you before you took his hand and said “I made a friend.”

He followed your eyes to a seller whom he wouldn’t have known to be an advanced android if he hadn’t spent weeks helping to craft you. The android waved.

“Isn't he fascinating? He's the latest to launch with his retinal disparities solved—” you were expelling information to Qimir but the entire time he was looking at the seller. Even under the fabric, Qimir could see the android carried an enviable build because it didn’t require any of the disciplines that Qimir had. The stranger even sported a polite smile that reached his eyes like all were programmed to do. The Sith spent his time looking over the being to find a hole in the persona but when he found nothing he checked back into the conversation you resumed with your fellow machine.

“You got any type 13 batteries?” he interrupts with a tight-lipped smile.

“Type 13C,” the android repeats as he sifts through a catalog behind the table. “You guys are in luck. I have one more left." Qimir didn't miss the way the android looked over at you when he said that.

~

The walk back home should have been pleasant but Qimir spent most of it peeved even once he made it inside away from the brewing storm.

“You’re upset,” you looked at him in the empty apartment as he put a bag down. Qimir didn’t say anything about your statement so you thought to solve it the only way you knew how. You went to him as you calculated every way your decision could end.

You were kissing him in record time. Qimir felt your cold lips mold into him as he tried to keep focus on the root of his frustration. However, you were a fast learner because, by the time you placed him under your shirt, he was entirely distracted. You were getting so good at acting like you used to when you were human.

“Qimir,” you moaned as you felt him squeeze your breast. His breathing was picking up as you broke the kiss for a moment but things were going right back to how they were before when he went back to kissing you. He went right back to kneading your breasts and making a mockery of your sensitive nipples.

It would have gone farther but Qimir told himself that he’d swap your parts since he couldn’t spend another day holding back.

“Let me fix you,” he placed his forehead onto yours as spoken and traded his hands under your shirt for around your waist. “Okay?” he said.

You accepted the way his hands wrapped around your neck. It felt warm and comforting as he pressed your power button. The heaviness of your parts became clear when you went limp and into unconsciousness but you never met the ground since Qimir’s hand never left your neck until he secured your position to pick you up and walk you to your charging platform.

The way he admired you as he carefully peeled off your clothes. For every clothing item he took off, he felt his mind get quieter until your naked body made it all go silent. 

Just as the rain started once more, Qimir started the rest of his day by reaching for his tool kit. He would open you up and give you every knee sensor, motor, and battery he had gotten for you to be the best. The closest to human he could get you.

~

Your vision was beyond better than it used to be when you woke up. 24 hours had gone by and you were now heading off of your platform. It was an odd feeling to be able to now feel the temperature. Had your home always been cold? Even the robe around you did little to keep the air from bitting at your appendages.

Your bare feet walked around the apartment searching for Qimir until you found him in the same room he had disassembled you. There on the stretcher was the body of the android who gave you your new battery and Qimir was still fishing to store spare parts for later.

“I’m upset.” That was all you said as you interrupted his fixated tinkering.

“What?” He looked up at you over his glasses. “Do you miss him?” This was the first time you were picking up that he was mocking you.

“What are you talking about?” you said in annoyance. The spectrum of your emotions was much deeper now.

Qimir placed his utensils down, took off his glasses, and walked over to you.

“You said you liked him, right? So what did you expect me to do?” he spoke in that whisper that he only used when he was trying to reason with you.

“So you broke him down to pieces,” you said.

By now, Qimir had your face in his hands.

“I didn’t ask this of you,” you told him as you held onto both of his arms.

“Oh, come on. You were practically begging for it, the way you were looking at him. I gave you what you wanted. Right? Those eyes that you liked so much.”

“I didn’t want that,” you said. You should have been pulling away from him and told him how much of a monster he was as you looked past him and saw pieces of hardware and flesh haphazardly mixed together. He had practically eaten the android down to the bone trying to salvage every scrap he could find until he was reduced to nothing. Yet, you were just as much up a hypocrite to want the same man who gave you your first feeling of disgust to comfort you at the same time.

“How do you know what you want, [Name]?” he let go of your face but kept walking forward even as you were stepping back.

“I do!” your declaration cut through the cold room as he had you cornered.

“So what?” he caged you with both of his hands as he maintained a hard look into your eyes. “you want your boyfriend back?” he teased you with a raised chin.

“He is not my boyfriend… You’re my idiot boyfriend.” you fired back as you pushed against his chest. You used the opportunity to get out of the prison he put you in.

You had got a new sense of humor. It would have fascinated Qimir if he wasn’t secretly eager to keep pushing you. With the wave of his hand, he watches you get pulled back to him at such a speed that your chest hits against his with a thud.

“Qimir.” You wanted to ask him what he was thinking because it was killing you.

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s distracting” he told you.

“Like what?”

“Like you want me to fuck you,” he laughed lightly but it still reached his shoulders.

Your patience was being tested since no amount of calculating or sifting through your data could get you to figure out how to prove him wrong. 

“Oh,” he said. “... you do.” You didn’t miss the way that the corner of his lips was holding back a smile that was on the edge of sanity. His brown eyes didn’t look the same anymore.

“Come on,” you heard him say as you were scared he was right. He drew closer as he hovered over your lips but he tortured you since he never let your mouths meet. 

“Ask me for it,” he said. Qimir could swear that he was doing his best to hold back because whenever you had a look on your face that you were processing, he felt this feeling in his chest to consume you.

“Qimir,” you held onto yourself but by the time you felt the room becoming to how you just managed to say “please.”

You pushed your lips onto him as he brought you against the wall to attack you with all you could handle. Qimir let his lips start at your mouth before he made his way down. He sucked at your jaw just to travel to your neck. You let out a few scattered moans every time he pushed forward until he was untying your robe.

He didn’t let you think for a moment when his hand found its way past your robe and in between your folds. You blinked once, then twice as your lips were spilling moans all over.

“How does it feel,” he said but you didn’t register it the first time. “Huh?” he was practically pressing you for a response as his thumb rubbed the bud in between as his middle finger was slowly being consumed by the contraction of your hole taking him in.

“W-warm,” you confessed as your hand instinctively latched onto his arm.

“Aren’t you glad I got you a new sensor?” he tilted his hand to tease you while looking through his lashes. Your eyes were squeezed shut as you felt the temperature of your body increase. Qimir was having too much fun. “Hm?”

He took his other hand to rub furiously against your warm, wet lips so he can focus on just pushing in and out of you at an impossible speed with the middle finger that he was using. The sound of him going in, out, back, and forth was loud enough for you to hear as the liquids that were seeping out of you were just being pushed back in his thick fingers.

You were so overwhelmed that your mouth opened but not a sound came out of you. You could hear your name being called but all you could focus on was how little control you had over your thighs as they were squeezing so tightly. Qimir saw the way you tried to snap shut but he pried you back open with his legs until your knees were buckling under the sensation.

“Come on keep standing.” he drove into you further with his fingers almost to bring you back up “You can do it,” he said.

“I ca–I can’t,” you cried. Your tears that had welled up were finally spilling over and it only made Qimir’s pants tighter as he watched.

“Yes, you can,”  he said. He could tell you were close with the way your breathing was so irregular. That only made it worse for you as he took the opportunity to put another finger into you without warning. That clearly did it for you when he felt your pussy practically latch down on him like they were trying to push him out. 

The way you cried at your climax did something to Qimir’s thoughts.

“There you go.” he mumbled. The juices that came out of you and spilled all over his fingers made him tell you “Good girl,” with such breathiness.

“Don’t get tired on me yet. We still got more things to test out.” Qimir picked you up so effortlessly. It felt like you blinked and when you opened your eyes, he was lying down with his back on the couch and you seated and secured near his hips. His member was just as flush as it was a few days before. 

You were smart enough to understand what you wanted to do but you had no experience to know what it was about to feel like. Qimir was waiting with bated breath to see what you’d choose. A balloon was in your chest as you looked at his cock. When you wrapped your hands around it, Qimir felt a shutter travel up his spine. You rose carefully and adjusted yourself directly above his tip. As you sank, you could hear the wet noises that were coming from below as your quivering lips were sucking Qimir in with so little resistance. 

Qimir threw his head back as he gasped. He missed the way you were practically chasing a high when the first feeling of him stretching you made you too horny and too eager.

He spoke through his moans. “Slow down you’re gonna–”

A lowly groan passed your lips and your eyes were squeezing as you tried to catch yourself. “It hurts,”

Qimir shouldn’t have laughed but he couldn’t help how clueless you were reduced to. You had the entire galaxy’s information running through your brain but your excitement made you throw intelligence out the window to chase the feeling that the thickness of his cock was giving. “You’re trying to take it so quickly. Slow down.”

You took his advice until you completely buried his shaft into you until it was gone with the only evidence being the bulge in your abdomen. You stayed like this just enough to get used to it.

“Qi–” you called for him but he already flipped over and knocked the wind out of you in the process.

The first time he pulled out felt disappointed until he snapped right back into you. His hips went back and pushed forward and your body bounced against it. First, it was slow. You gripped onto his shoulders as you were sure you’d probably lose your center of gravity if you didn’t.

“How does it feel?” he grunted.

“F-faster, please,” you gasped. “Please.”

Qimir picked up his speed instantly. The warm feeling of his member and the veins that adorned it hitting against your insides was accompanied by a symphony of skin hitting skin. Your hands gripped and tightened while your nails made crescent marks on his back. By some point, Qimirs hands latched around your neck for some false sense of support as he tried to hit every angle of your pussy. 

He drilled into you so relentlessly that you forgot how to breathe and just started hiccuping. It’s not even like you needed the air but Qimir knew you better than you did.

“Breath,” he was now chest to chest and speaking into your ear. “You’re gonna overheat if you don’t breathe.”

So you listened and threw your head back as you took all the bullying his thrusting was doing to you. For a brief moment, your eye caught the droid in the other room.

“I broke him down just for you and now look at you,” Qimir chuckled into your neck as he kissed your neck. 

He didn’t even let you spend enough time looking to feel bad because he took your face in his hands to have you look right into his eyes as the sweat from his body was mixing with the come oozing out of you.

“Don’t look at him. Look at me,” was the last thing he got to say before you felt your entire system malfunctioning. That’s the only way you could describe it as the cord in your stomach wound tighter and tighter until you finally snapped and your eyes briefly glowed white. 

“There you go,”  he said as you shook and squirted on him.

You melted into the couch as Qimir chanced his high and took one of your breasts into his mouth. He kept going until he was releasing strings of come into you and letting out the filthy moans muffled by your breast.

Your eyelids were heavy from exhaustion as your systems tried to calibrate and compensate for the sudden dropping temperatures. You could only feel Qimir caress your face as he spoke. 

“I think your database is overwhelmed. We’ll try more tomorrow.” 

You could hear the smile on his lips as you tightened your hold around his waist for comfort.

Your eyes peeled open to darkness mottled with golden flickers. The ceiling above was not the sterile white of a medbay or the tangled canopy of the forest, but cold stone, rough and ancient, vaulting overhead. You lay cocooned in heavy blankets atop a real bed, linen sheets, a proper frame, incongruously sumptuous against the uneven floor of the cave. Faint blue light from a battered holopanel danced over the walls, mingling with the honeyed glow of an old-fashioned lantern. Machinery thrummed quietly somewhere deeper in the cavern, a hum unmistakable, a shield generator, perhaps, or a battered droid on standby. The wound at your shoulder throbbed, the sensation dulled by clean, snug bandages that bore the faint herbal scent of bacta patches. The air tasted of minerals and distant rain, foreign and feral yet almost soothing, as you tried to piece together how you’d come to wake here, folded in warmth but utterly unsure of your safety. Completely confused as to why you weren't dead.

Qimir, now stripped of the black sleeveless armour he'd worn when he tried to kill you, shuffled into the cave’s chamber, oddly domestic in loose, unevenly patched linen. His hair was disheveled, and damp, and he kept his back to you as he moved with measured purpose, boots whispering against the uneven stone. Slowly, carefully, you surveyed the alcove surrounding the bed, its walls studded with jagged blue crystal veins and half-unpacked storage crates. Discarded coils of rope, an oil-stained toolkit, and what looked suspiciously like a battered astromech dome littered the corners. You searched desperately for anything that could be wielded as a weapon, your gaze landing on a hydrospanner, a cup, a chipped plate, before your eyes snagged on something more familiar.

"Your saber is on the table beside you," he muttered, voice flat, as if offering a harmless trinket rather than a weapon. He knelt on the stone floor, indifferent, and dropped a handful of root vegetables onto a battered prep board beside a pot above a fire.

He leaned over and stirred the pot with a carved wooden spoon, the savoury scent of simmering broth curling through the flickering glow, hands steady and unconcerned by your presence.

You snatched your saber, flicking the emitter on; its blade hissed to life, an unstable blue glow trembling in your grip. Still half tangled in blankets, knees pressed into creaking mattress coils, you braced yourself, holding it two-handed, ready and waiting for the first sign he might turn on you again.

"Why don’t the Jedis know who you are?" you rasped, each word scraped raw as you forced it out, your throat sore.

Qimir turned to look at you, utterly unfazed, his gaze cool and appraising, not even acknowledging the saber clutched in your grip. Shadows played across his features, giving his expression a sculpted sharpness, but his posture suggested a kind of profound boredom, as if the threat you thought you posed was merely another passing inconvenience.

"They do," Qimir answered, his tone flat, unreadable, but his gaze gleamed with something unspoken.

"No," you coughed, shaking your head, fury flaring past panic, "if they did, they sent us willingly to a slaughter."

"The Jedis know who I am," Qimir murmured, tilting his head slightly like a predator sizing up prey, "they just don’t want you to know who I am."

You blinked hard through tearing eyes, your heart ached for those you had lost, voice fractured but stubborn. "What purpose would that serve?" His lips curled in a thin, mirthless smile.

"The Jedis need you to have unwavering faith that their way is the only way, the light, or the dark," he said, voice low and threading through the shadows twined between you. "To tell you of me would mean to admit there are other ways the Force can be used."

You shook your head, "I don’t care how else the Force can be used."

"You should," he shot back, unsettling patience in his words as he studied your face, as though waiting for understanding to dawn. Your anger splintered through your fear, breath catching painfully.

"Why the hell did you even bring me here?" you choked. "You killed my friends, and now you’re lecturing me about the Force?"

Qimir’s gaze darkened, a hint of something predatory flickering in his eyes as he studied you.

He stood and took a step closer, his presence seeming to fill the space between you, the air crackling with an energy that made your skin prickle. "You intrigue me," he said softly, voice like velvet sliding over razors. "You burn brightly. I find I want to…shape that. Mold it." His eyes trailed deliberately over your hunched form, the blankets pooling around your tense frame.

Heat bloomed in your face, anger, and something uncomfortably like hunger tangling under your skin. "I’m not some plaything for your amusement," you snarled, but the words lacked bite, your voice roughened from more than just injury, you turned off the saber and let your hands fall to the bedsheets defeated.

For a moment, the air between you seemed to hum, thick and bright with something restless, the Force pulsing like a hidden current just out of sight. You could feel it: not the steady calm of the Jedi way, but some wilder gravity knitting the space between you and him, a pull that made your breath catch. Qimir’s gaze dropped to your hands, then back to your face, a slight smile ghosting across his lips, as if he, too, sensed the tension pulling you closer despite every instinct to flee. The Force pressed like a heated palm at your back, coaxing you to breach the divide, to surrender to the question threaded between danger and desire. Your pulse hammered against your ribs, dizzy and unmoored, as if your body were not entirely your own.

"Would you like some soup?" he asked suddenly, shattering the taut silence with surprising gentleness, a genuine smile flickering across his mouth as he turned back to the pot, the outline of his shoulders softening under the lantern glow. The invitation hung between you, fragile and absurd in its domesticity, as if the moment before hadn’t been laced with something sharp-edged and electric.

He ladled the soup with deliberate care, slow and precise, the faint clink of metal on stone oddly intimate in the hush of the cave. Without asking, he crossed the space and set the battered bowl on the table beside you, close enough that you could smell the aromatic steam spiralling upward. Qimir didn’t retreat. He lingered, eyes locked on yours, the heat of his body brushing the edge of your blankets. “You still look ready to run,” he murmured, voice pitched low and sultry, almost teasing. “Or ready to pounce. I’m not sure which I prefer.”

He set a spoon by your hand but didn’t move away. Instead, Qimir sat on the edge of the bed, close, but not quite touching, his weight causing the mattress to dip beneath him and tilting your bodies subtly toward each other.

He killed your friends, your brain screamed at you, desperate and raw, trying to fight this strange sensation creeping over your body, this electric ache kindling beneath your skin, equal parts terror and reckless longing. Every instinct screamed to recoil, to strike out, yet the space between you felt dangerously thin, charged with something you didn’t have the words to name.

Suddenly, you lunged forward, your lightsaber arcing through the air, aimed directly at him. Qimir was remarkably swift, he sidestepped with a fluid, almost predatory grace, practically gliding out of the way as your blade sliced through the space where he had just been. His body moved with a calculated ease, arms reaching out in a quick, practiced motion to grab for his weapon.

With a savage flick of his wrist, Qimir summoned his weapon from across the cave, metal skittering through the air before slapping into his palm. The red blade snapped to life, hissing as he met your next strike in a shower of crackling sparks. You bared your teeth, jaw clenched so hard it ached, pouring every ounce of fury and confusion into each swing. The cave rang with the clash of energy on energy, the searing heat of the blades seeping through the air between you. Qimir parried, deflecting your attacks with terrifying composure, a smirk playing at his lips as if he relished each strike. It was as if the force between you had turned feral, wild intensity humming with every movement, pushing you both closer and setting you alight from the inside out.

Your next slash didn’t catch him, but it did graze the fabric of his loose tunic, the edge of your saber searing through linen as he pivoted away with feline agility. For a split second, a bright trail of char traced his side, the tunic fluttering down in tatters. Qimir stilled, the fight pausing on a knife edge, and with deliberate leisure, he pulled the ruined fabric from his frame. The muscles of his chest flexed in the lantern light, lean, sculpted, dusted with a mischievous trail of hair that arrowed down between his pectorals. For all his elegance, there was something raw and dangerous in the way he shed the garment, eyes flicking up to catch your reaction, mouth curving into a sly, infuriatingly confident smile.

He let out a low, mocking laugh, not out of breath in the slightest. "If you wanted me to take my clothes off that badly," he drawled, voice turning languid and wicked, "you should have just asked."

You clenched your jaw, trying to ignore the screaming burn radiating from your shoulder and down your arm, trying to smother the fire in your gut that drew you towards him. Every nerve seemed to pulse with a heat that had nothing to do with the fight, something wild and hungry that coiled low in your belly, threatening to consume you. Your breath came short and sharp, each exhale a low, ragged sound that betrayed the battle raging beneath your skin. The room felt too small, too close, the space between you charged with a force that pulled you in even as your mind screamed to pull away. His gaze bored into yours, dark and knowing, as if he could see the war waging within you, and relished every moment of your struggle.

You swung again, your blade clashing against his in a spray of sparks that rained down on the stone floor, again and again and again. Each strike was fuelled by the roiling anger in your gut, the desperate need to lash out, to make him feel the pain that seared through your every nerve. But with every parry, Qimir's smirk only seemed to deepen, his eyes alight with a dark amusement that sent a sickening thrill through your core. He was toying with you, relishing the fight, the danger, the electric charge that crackled between you with every meeting of blades. And god's help you, some twisted part of you thrilled at it too, drawn to the heat of his body, the wild, savage energy that hummed in the air, the promise of violence and something darker, headier, lacing each strike.

You misstepped and he gained the upper hand, using your momentum to fling you against the wall, your lightsaber angled across your throat, the only thing stopping his from taking off your head. With your back pressed to the wall, you almost growled with the exertion of trying to push him off, the muscles in his arms bulging as he leaned in closer. Then, shockingly, he kissed you. A wave of conflicting emotions radiated through you, and for a few dizzying seconds, you found yourself kissing him back before clarity returned with a vengeance. You bit down hard on his lip, tasting blood. He stepped away from you, a smile playing on his lips as he raised his hand to wipe away the crimson stain.

“My my, you like to play rough," Qimir purred, his tongue darting out to dab at the blood on his lip. "I must admit, I like a bit of fire in my partners. It makes things so much more…engaging." He took a step closer again.

You lifted your saber, fury spiking anew, and swung at him with reckless abandon. Qimir danced back effortlessly, the red blade of his weapon humming through the air as he parried your strikes with aggravating, almost lazy precision. He barely seemed to break a sweat, his eyes locked on you, sharp and utterly focused, drinking in every twitch of your muscles, every shift in your stance. His mouth curled into a half-smile, a taunting glimmer lighting in his gaze as he countered each attack like this was all just a game between lovers instead of mortal enemies.

"Give into it as I have. There's something pulling us together," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, smoky and intimate, "I could feel it half a universe away." You swung again, angrier than before, but he didn’t bother to block, he just held his arms open, chest bared, leaving himself vulnerable. Your saber arced within a breath of his skin, the electric blue glow trembling at the edge of his heart. For a heartbeat, you hovered on that razor's edge, the Force coiled tight and shimmering, something in it gripping your wrist, refusing to let you strike home. Your hand shook. There was a tightness in your chest as if the air had thickened, heat simmering where rage and something unspoken collided. He stood still, his eyes never leaving yours, as if he already knew you couldn’t do it. "There it is," he whispered.

Slowly, you lowered your saber, the blade flickering out as it clattered to the floor, forgotten. Hesitantly, you stepped forward, heart pounding in your ears, the space between you narrowing to inches. Qimir closed the gap, one hand tangling in your hair as he pulled you into a rough kiss. This time, you didn't pull away, instead, you leaned into the contact, your lips parting under his as something wild and reckless ignited in your veins. The world narrowed to the slide of his tongue against yours, the heat of his skin, the Force crackling around you like a live wire. There was no thought of right or wrong, no questioning the pull that had been building since the moment you met, just the consuming need to be closer, to give in to the fire he had stoked to life inside you.

The pair of you moved toward the bed in a feverish blur, your hands hungrily mapping the planes of his chest, the hard, lean muscle shifting beneath your palms, warm and impossibly alive. The scent of sweat and spice rose from his skin as your fingers traced the line of hair that arrowed down from his sternum, following the sharp dip of his collarbones and the ridges flanking his ribs. Every movement made his muscles flex, a living echo of the lethal grace he'd shown in the fight. You relished the heat radiating from him, the way your touch seemed to draw a low, pleased sound from deep in his throat. His skin was peppered with old scars, each one a sharp reminder of the danger wrapped in every inch of him.

He guided you down to the mattress you had woken up on, his lips trailing fire down the column of your throat. "I should kill you," you whispered, the last of your fight ebbing away even as the words left your lips.

"Yes, you should," he mumbled into the curve of your neck, his hands sliding up the inside of your shirt, searing a path over your stomach, your ribs, your chest. The warmth of his touch seemed to melt away the last of your resistance, leaving you boneless and trembling beneath him. Each brush of his fingers sent sparks dancing across your skin, nerve endings alight with sensation. You felt dizzy, drunk on the feel of him, the reckless, impossible need that seemed to consume you both.

"This is wrong," you tried to keep the fight ignited, even as your voice wavered.

Qimir's lips curved into a wicked, knowing smile as he leaned in close, his breath ghosting over your ear. "It won't feel so wrong, when I'm done with you." His words sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and anticipation that made your heart race. "I know you feel it," he murmured, his fingers tangling in your hair as he tilted your head back to meet his eyes. "The pull. The connection." His gaze was dark, intense, as if he could see straight through to your very soul. "You can fight it all you want, but in the end, you'll surrender. You'll see."

Your breath caught at his words, at the certainty in his voice that seemed to reverberate deep inside you. "And what then?" you managed to ask, your voice rough with emotion. "What happens when I do?"

"It will feel even better than it already does," he whispered, hands fiddling with the connections that held your tunic together. His fingers were deft, nimble, making short work of the fastenings as he bared your skin to the cool air. Every brush of his knuckles against the sensitive flesh beneath sent shivers cascading through you, heat blooming in their wake. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, laid bare before him, something hungry and possessive flickering across his features. "So beautiful," he murmured, voice rough with want as his hands skimmed over your newly exposed skin, tracing patterns that made your breath catch. "So perfect." His touch was reverent,

Grasping one breast in one hand, he lowered his lips to the other, tongue swirling around the sensitive peak until you gasped. He teased gently at first, feathering soft, torturous caresses that made your back arch, desperate for more. Then he sucked harder, pulling the tender flesh into his mouth with a pressure that sent shocks of pleasure straight to your core. His hand mirrored his mouth's movements, kneading and caressing until you were trembling beneath him, undone by the dual sensations.

Then his hands moved to the fastenings on your trousers, pulling them away and standing up and stepping back to yank them free of your legs. The fabric slid down your thighs, baring the last of your secrets to his hungry gaze. You felt exposed, vulnerable, laid out like an offering before him, but the look in his eyes held no room for shame. Only desire, dark and fierce, burning away every doubt until there was nothing left but the need consuming you both.

Then he grabbed at your legs, twisting you so that you were on your stomach.

"Stand," he commanded, his voice rough with urgency, and you did, supporting your upper body by bracing outstretched hands locked at the elbow against the bed.

He used his knee to guide your thighs apart, the rough fabric of his trousers scraping against your sensitive skin, until you were standing bare and open before him. You felt his fingers slip between your legs, his touch hot as he explored how badly your body had betrayed you. He teased you with light, torturous strokes, circling the sensitive nub at your centre until your hips bucked wildly against his hand, desperate for more.

"You're so wet for me," he growled, his voice dripping with dark satisfaction. "So ready." He slipped one finger inside you, then another, stretching you, preparing you, as your walls clenched around him, greedy for more. You moaned, shameless in your need, your hips rocking back to meet his touch, silently begging him for everything, for the release you knew only he could give.

Then his finger retreated, and you heard the rustle of his trousers, then the feeling of him sliding over you, hot and thick. You cried out, your body trembling at the sudden invasion, the intensity of the sensation. He felt huge inside you, filling you to the brink, the stretch both painful and perfect, a delicious ache that only stoked the flames higher. Every nerve ending seemed to ignite at once, your skin prickling with goosebumps as you struggled to adjust to the overwhelming fullness. Pleasure and pain blurred together, a heady mix that made your head swim, your legs shake. You felt pinned, impaled, utterly at his mercy.

You cried out, your body trembling at the sudden invasion, the intensity of the sensation. He stilled for a moment, allowing you to adjust, before he began to move, his hips rolling against yours in a rhythm that was at once brutal and beautiful. Every stroke sent sparks cascading through your body, winding the tension tighter and tighter until you were sobbing with the need for release. He filled you completely, his hard length dragging against every sensitive nerve ending, igniting a fire that threatened to consume you both. Each thrust was a claim, a brand, searing his possession into your very soul.

He set a pace that was unrelenting, almost punishing in its intensity, as if he could fuck the fight right out of you, turn your defiance into pure, undiluted need. He leaned over you, his chest pressed to your back, one hand tangling in your hair as he pulled your head back to claim your mouth in a searing kiss. The taste of him flooded your senses, dark and heady, as he took you with a single-minded intensity that left you reeling. The world narrowed to the slide of his body against yours, the slap of flesh on flesh, the desperate sounds that spilled from your lips with every relentless thrust.

You came hard, your body clenching around him like a vice, stars exploding behind your eyes as the pleasure crashed over you. You expected him to slow, to be close to his release, but his tempo didn't waver, and a sob left your lips as the sensation of pleasure became overwhelming.

"We're not done yet," he whispered, his hand grabbing the back of your neck, the angle pulling your face up. Out of the corner of your eye, you glimpsed a mirror that gave you a full view of him fucking into you, the sight so raw and carnal it sent another shockwave of lust through your core. He looked like a god of debauchery, skin gleaming with sweat, muscles flexing with every ruthless thrust.

The look in his eyes was pure sin, dark and possessive, filled with wicked promise. "You're going to come for me again," he growled, his other hand snaking around your hip to rub tight circles over your sensitised nub. "And again. Until you can't remember your own name. Until the only word left on your lips is mine."

You can't wait for your shift to end. The later and warmer it gets, the more indignant certain guests become. "Are you free after pretty girl?"

As if you had invoked it, you hear Mel's smoky voice at the bar. His friends, including regular customers, whistle excitedly. You're already grinning automatically. "pretty girl has a date with her bed," you call back.

"Can I join them?" he asks back, alcohol already far too deep in his system. His head glows as he once again crosses the boundaries of politeness. "Your wife always complains about your snoring. I don't think so," you tease him, rejecting him again. At the mention of his wife, he turns even redder and resembles a crab now. Resounding laughter fills the bar, you join in and wink at the regulars before you go back behind the bar preparing drinks. As you walk through the partying people pouring drinks, you suppress the constantly emerging thoughts of him.

 "How can you stay calm every time?"

Mercus, another regular customer in the bar, speaks to you. His eyes always light up when he looks at you. You'd like to see him here all the time. He's one of the few men you can put up with. "If I don't take it for fun, heads will roll," you wink at him. "Another one, Handsome?" His cheeks darken a shade of red as you ask him. He nods before you make him another drink.

"And if someone else asked you whom you like better?"

Oh. He means himself. You can see it by his embarrassed look and the nervous tapping of his fingers on the wood. You feel your colleague's gaze on you as she knowingly drills glances into the back of your head. If you hadn't been sweating for a long time, you'd be melting away now. "Today I need my bed to myself," you speak softly and hope that he understands your hint. "I see I see, of course," he replies, a little crumpled, which gives you a pressing feeling in the chest area.

What you don't expect is the tiny flicker of power that disappears as quickly as it came. You felt it clearly. He's here. Close by and immediately your damn heart races.  Immediately, your body works at full speed not to think that Qimir dares to come back after all this time. The fact that he briefly revealed his power shows that he wants you to feel him. Damn bastard, you just think to yourself cursing before you mix the next drinks.

He would dare to face you. He would definitely do it.

You feel another known power. Mae. She comes right through the door, past the guests. Without Qimir. But not Mae. Not quite. This woman looks exactly like Mae, but her gaze seems uncertain, not at all as confident as the Acolyte's you know too well. You look at her confused, and the woman seems to recognize that exactly. She looks at you, insistently, and you are the one who averts your gaze and tries to focus on work again. You take a deep breath, cutting the path to her, because you have to serve her. She sits there and waits for you.

"Hello, what would you like?" you ask in your typical work voice and she looks at you nervously.

"You know Mae?"

"Who asks that?" you reply monotonously. She seems surprised by your brusque question and the change in your mood.

"I'm Osha, Mae's sister, and my master told me you know her."

Oh. This provocation of her master made your hand twitch. Knowing is a weak word. Loathing each other, but having mutual understanding for each other is more appropriate. "Where is she?"

"She's safe"

You raise an eyebrow. "That doesn't answer my question." Embarrassed, she looks away. "What did you do to her?" You can't suppress the fact that deep down you care about her.

"You have to try to believe me that I saved my sister's life."

It's hard for you to believe. In front of you sits someone who doesn't look like Mae, but completely the same. It's scary and sends shivers down your spine. "Quite a lot to ask of someone I'm just seeing for the first time," you reply dripping ironically. "Can I take your order now? I don't get paid to answer questions"

You're way too harsh, but the fact that she talks to you in riddles and Qimir is within reach, giving you a headache. "Y-Yes, of course," the young woman mumbles, and you ignore your guilty conscience, which slowly spreads. "Hasn't Qimir passed away yet?", your brusque, ironic tone festering in your voice, when you ask this malicious question.

Osha looks at you, visibly puzzled. She really didn't expect your obvious rejection. "Master is here with me" shortly afterwards, she tells you your order, which you scribble at your glance.

You sigh. "I know that he’s here. I just wanted to make myself clear"

Osha is quiet now.

You just shrug your shoulders. "You can tell him not to show up here."

…

Of course, you won't be spared from his presence. You don't finish work until four in the morning and instead of having your peace, you feel his power from afar. After you've bypassed Osha all evening after the short conversation and handing her ordered drink, you wanted nothing more than your bed and peace.

"You scared Osha quite a bit"

You splash the water on your face, run your palms over your hair, before you lift your head and look at him. "Did I?" you spit innocently at him. He leans against your house wall, the corners of his mouth twitch. "my sweet girl..."

Your heart flutters unintentionally when he says that.

"Did you miss me?"

The hint of a smug grin makes your flaring anger blaze. "Missed cutting your throat when I had the opportunity"

A brief pause of silence expands between you. A part of you means these words with every syllable. But only a part of you. You feel him reduce the distance to you. His power tickles your skin because he spreads it further, feels you first. Like a warm breeze, his power caresses you.

"I missed you too"

With a wave of your hand, you choke off Qimir's air. You hear him gasp and turn to look into his panting face. You don't use much power. The element of surprise is on your side. He wasn't really aware of your growing powers until just now.

A smile appears on your lips as you force him to his knees. He smiles; full of fascination with your performance. He begins to gasp. You release him and watch as he falls to the ground, coughing, sucking in the air freely.

"That was fantastic...", he says proudly, his head shoots up. “I didn't know you were so into pain.", you joke.

Smoky laughter makes your heart tremble. "You don't make it easy for me to grab you here and now."

You raise an eyebrow. "Who says I'll give myself to you just like that?" With this half-hearted rebuff, you rush past him, walking to the beach, which is your end goal. He follows you with sure steps, making it known that he will follow you. You bristle through the forest, your feet guide you as if by themselves. You feel the cooler air brushing over your skin. The tingling in your fingertips because of his body behind you makes your heartbeat faster. The moon shines brightly over the shallow waves as you feel the rough sand beneath your feet. Your feet burn from today's shift in the bar. You've run your feet sore. You have to turn around to know that Qimir is behind you.

You pull the sweaty shirt over your head before you pull the pants off your hips. Only at that moment do you turn to him. Qimir is watching you intently. His hair has become longer, hanging stringy in his face. You now have a short moment to look at it.  He seems exhausted.

 "Where's your Osha?"

"Where is one of the men in your bed?"

"Jealous?" you reply, running backwards to the water. A sigh escapes you as you feel the cool water on the soles of your burning feet.

"Jealousy is far too weak a word for what the sight of men preying on you triggers in me when I see you among them."

He slips his suit off his body and immediately follows you into the water. You go so far into the water that the water goes a little over your hips. Although the water is cool, you burn inside. You are hypocritical. When he was gone, you tortured him in every possible way in your mind, and now he stands in front of you, and everything seems almost forgotten.

"Did Osha reject you, or why are you so desperate?" you stab again. At that moment, as you say these words, you feel his power moving your body toward him against your will. Rough palms try to grab your neck, but you beat him to it. You block him with your power, which makes him groan darkly.

"Deserve it to touch me"

And with that, you start pushing your head underwater before you start swimming. Your head reappears, and you turn to it. "Fancy swimming?" The corners of his mouth twitch before he follows you. You disappear again. The glow of the moon illuminates the depth of the endless sea a little. Qimir swims towards you, and it is you who pulls him close to you. Together you reappear, his hands try to grab you, but you escape his hands again, and swim on. Qimir follows you. You play a push and pull game with him, and give him back his own medicine. You sigh as you feel the shallow water cool down your heated body. Qimir swims next to you and you see the sun slowly rising on the horizon. Your limbs are exhausted, and so you swim with the black-haired man to the shore. You slowly get out of the water, take your clothes to dry yourself only slightly. He stands next to you, dresses himself again, but you feel his gaze on you. Contrary to your expectations, he doesn't touch you. A half-smile settles on your lips as you put on your dress, dry your hair halfway, and look at him.

"Good night."

"Good night... sweet girl"

A shiver races down your spine as he retaliates. He knows exactly what he's doing, and with a heavy heart, you go home. 

…

The next few nights you lie awake, tossing and turning. Sleep won’t come easy for you. Qimir often makes himself felt with his power and you know that this is intentional so that you do not come to rest. It is so infinitely uncomfortable for you that you have only had to remedy yourself more than once, while you have to think of him incessantly. It is desperate. Your pussy pulsates again, remembering his body. Your body shows you how weak you are. Annoyed, you swing out of bed, have to take a short walk to clear your head, and not desperately hoping that Qimir will be at your door and release you from your suffering. You quickly throw on your dress before you run out of your house and almost run into someone.

Qimir.

He looks at you in surprise. Your gaze should be just like his. He wanted to come to you, and maybe you hoped so. You have no idea who makes the first move and whose hands grab first. The handsome man finally pushes you against the front door, takes possession of your lips which you don't deny him. You literally throw yourself at him, open the door behind you to pull him inside. You capture him as if you wanted to take lock him away forever in your hold. He pulls away from you for a moment, piercing you insistently while his thumb strokes your cheek. "I'm not running away anymore" He forces you to look at him, to make sure that you must understand that he means it. "Neither do I," you reply, sealing these words with more hot kisses on his lips.

"Use my face.", he breathes heavy.

Your fingertips run over his full lips, feeling the tremor. You smile, gasp as his fingers claw into your hip. He throws himself back on the soft sheets, pulls you with him. You allow it and now sit on his firm abdominal muscles. Your wetness draws his skin and you see how his gaze greeds for it. Qimir licks his lips with relish.

"I should knock that grin off your face"

A throaty laugh escapes his lips. "Come on my face and you'll have your satisfaction" He's the biggest, most arrogant asshole, but far too handsome for his own good. You could ponder for a long time about the injustice that Qimir is the most beautiful person you are allowed to see. And in this verx moment, he wants to let you use him for your own pleasure. "I hope you suffocate under me," you reply annoyed, shivers running down your spine, contradicting your words.  

"I couldn't imagine a more beautiful death."

The beautiful black-haired man grabs your hips and pulls you towards his face. You float with your pussy over his lips. Seeing him below you from this angle makes your body tremble with excitement. His eyes pierce you, want you to see that he needs you with every fiber of his body. Qimir hardly waits, pressing you on his face with force. His tongue welcomes your wet folds. It hits you unexpectedly, so you curse loudly, resting your palm on the wall. Your other hand buries itself in his black curls, looking in vain for support. You pull a little too hard, which makes him growl against your pussy. The sweet pull shoots through your body as your moans fill the room.

"Fuck... Qimir...", you mumble, your voice a few octaves higher. The named moans against your wetness. The vibrations shoot directly to your clit, which is maltreated by his nose. He's too good at it to make you dizzy. His lips start sucking your clit, so you rub your hips against his face unabashedly. Exactly what the beautiful dark-haired man wanted. As if you're not doing enough, he claws at the flesh of your waist and pushes you even deeper into his face.

Your nerve endings are exploding. You throw your head back, really let yourself fall and allow your body tirelessly seek the sweet end. Far too quickly, the harsh orgasm that Qimir tries to coax out of you is announced. He does it much too quickly. Only with his mouth, which he has placed around your clit, the wave of the raging torrent sweeps you away and you collapse over Qimir. You see his deep black eyes from a veiled gaze, which accompany you through the climax. You straighten up, see him take a deep breath, the sparkle in his eyes far too clear. His lips and chin are wet. The result of your lust runs down. You move your fingers over it before bending down so that your lips dash onto his. Your tongue licks up your remains before he engages you in a passionate kiss.

"It would only be fair to give you the same thing back now," you breathe against his soft lips. Without waiting for an answer, you kiss your way along his torso, feeling the trembling of his muscles under your lips.  You kiss along his happy trail before you kiss his hard shaft, hearing him draw in the air sharply. His fingers bury themselves in your hair, brushing the strands out of your face. Your lips spread teasing butterfly kisses on his tip, taste his arousal on your tongue before you finally try to take his cock completely into your mouth. His cock bumps against your throat, but you want to feel him fill your mouth. Your fingers claw into his thighs as you start to hasten your mouth up and down. You want nothing more than to see him in despair, longing for more and begging for deliverance. You get closer to your goal than you think. Qimir's fingers claw into your curls, unidentifiable dark tones escape his full lips and you dare to look up at him. He has his eyes closed, his teeth pressing against the soft flesh of his lips. The sight literally makes you leak and motivtes you to suck harder on his cock. He accidentally thrusts a little too hard into your mouth, which makes you gag briefly.

Apologetically, he strokes your cheek and collects your spit with his thumb, which runs down the corner of your mouth. "Sweet girl... do you know how many times I imagined seeing you between my legs like that?"

You can only moan around his cock, which makes him gasp. Tears gather in your eyes, but you keep going. You keep sucking on him, wanting him to cum into your mouth. You want to savour it on your tongue. "So beautiful... fuck....how can I ever see anything more beautiful?" He literally babbled to himself, as if he hadn't had the opportunity to say such sweet things earlier, because he used his mouth on your pussy.

You take a hand, put it around his cock to bring him to the brink of madness together with your mouth. "Sweet girl....I'll be right there," he manages to get out, and you get faster, keeping the pressure on. Qimir breathes heavily, growls your name before you feel his cock pulsing inside you and you feel his juice on your tongue and swallow it all and moan, when you taste his cum.  You leave his cock still in your mouth, feeling it slowly slacken inside you. Your tongue licks him clean before you break away from him. You now kneel in front of him, watching him try to regulate his breathing. A light film of sweat covers his skin, making him shine in the candlelight. You can't avoid comparing him to a god. This God is completely out of breath because of you. This puts a smile on your face.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks in a smoky voice, sitting up to kiss you. You grin into the kiss, caressing his cheeks. "That remains my secret," you whisper conspiratorially. "I thought there were no more secrets between us."

"If I told you that, your arrogance would wallow in it."

Qimir grins knowingly. "You can admit how good I look. That's no secret."

You push him back slightly, but he holds you by your wrists. "I should have bitten off your best piece when I still had the opportunity," you murmur, playfully annoyed. He kisses the part of your wrist where your pulse races. "That would be unfavorable, after all, you still need him..."

"For what?" you ask in an arrogant tone. "I think you need another performance, don't you?"

"Not just one..." you breathe, your fingers drawing circles on his neck. Qimir pulls you onto his lap, his cock presses against your pussy again, pulsating and ready. You feel him sink his cock into you with ease. A sigh escapes you, burying your face in the crook of his neck. His rough hands embrace your body, helping you move on it. Through the position, you feel it deeper inside you, the slight sweet pain through pulls through your nerves. Your lips kiss along his skin, wetting every spot you can reach. He leaves it up to you how you move on him. Much more intense is the tingling sensation that you feel in every cell of your body. The black-haired man reaches into your hair, pulls you back so that you are forced to look at him. His eyes are always intense, hiding worlds you've always tried to discover. At that moment, he looks at you as if you were the world.

"Sweet girl... How am I ever going to have enough? How am I supposed to do without you?"

You can't answer. Your pussy pulsates around his arousal, taking away your opportunity to speak. All you can do is whine, kissing him hard, and try to control your overflowing emotions. You suppress the burgeoning feelings that have always been there.

You put your hand to his mouth, you want to stop him from continuing to talk nonsense. He kisses the palm of your hand instead. You feel your thighs burning, and your fitness leaves a lot to be desired. Qimir feels your strength dwindling. He turns to the side with you, his upper body presses against yours and you feel his cock penetrate you again, even more deeper, more intense. His hand goes to your neck, presses your face to his. His breath hits your heated skin. Qimir doesn't want to finish quickly. He wants you to be able to enjoy everything to the fullest. He thrusts his hips agonizingly slowly, your face is pressed against the pillow.

His fingers grasp one of your breast, playing with it. "sweet girl....give me more... give me all of you" You can only whimper helplessly, while he continues to breathe his praises against your ear, sending unspeakable shivers down your body. The sweat sticks unpleasantly to your skin, but that seems beside the point. Qimir's whole presence swallows you and makes you cross the threshold of your body. All that matters is the electrifying feeling in your nerves.

"Qimir... I can't take it anymore," you breathe exhausted, tears gathering in your eyes. The black-haired man pushes your legs further apart with his hand. His fingertips find your pearl, stroking around the sensitive point. "Give me another one...", he demands roughly. Tirelessly, he rubs your clit while the sound of your leaking pussy fills the room. You curse into the pillow, your body tries to close your legs because of the overstimulation, but Qimir pushes them apart again. His cock pulses inside you, his hip thrusts more and more uncontrollably into your pussy, but his finger holds the same tireless rhythm. Hard and stinging, the second orgasm finally breaks over you. Your hips twitch uncontrollably. Qimir grasps your neck, feels your climax. You feel through your trance that the handsome man presses his head into your neck and moans your name as he climaxes. At that very moment, you turn your head slightly towards him, enjoy his lust-distorted face. He's looking at you, his hand still around your neck. You meet his steady gaze, see yourself in the almost black irides. He still remains in you, savoring the warmth to the fullest. Far too lovingly, he begins to brush the sweaty strands out of your forehead.

Very slowly, he pulls out of you, which brings out a gasp out of your lips. He steals this from your lips with a kiss. Silence surrounds you, which until just now was filled with passion. Now it presses itself into you uncomfortably and makes you aware again that you have given him too much. Too much. You now expect him to clean himself, get dressed, and then disappear.

Contrary to your expectations, he stays, lying comfortably and looks at you as if he wants to decipher what you are thinking. "May I stay?" At this moment, you try to hold back your little amazement. You're glad he can't feel your racing heart right now. It would betray you.

"If you want to," you dodge, too cowardly to speak clearly, and allow him to leave. "I wouldn't have asked otherwise," he replies firmly with his typical smile and strokes your shoulder with his fingertips.

"Then stay."

You see the hint of another smile. Are you still fogged by your two orgasms?

You sit up, reach for cloths that you simply left lying around last time. You hand him some. When you're done, you lie back, feel the exhaustion take over your limbs. Qimir stands up briefly. "Would you like to have a drink too?"

So much that you're retelling the time when a female Gungan tried to fight you in a cantina on Tatooine.

“And so, it turned out they thought I was the one who stole her ex-boyfriend, but it was the human at the table next to mine!”

Qimir breaks into a smile and nearly spits out the lomin ale in his mouth. After a fit of coughing and swallowing his drink, he shakes his head fondly. He seems truly amused and fully relaxed, though perhaps mostly due to the alcohol.

A few beats pass. It's a comfortable silence at first. 

But then he starts playing with the stem of his bottle, and the air slowly begins to shift. It shifts entirely when he asks the next question–

“Why aren't you like this around him?” 

Him referring to your shared master. 

The mixture of spicebrew, lomin ale, Corellian wine, and whatever else you had has lowered your filter completely. You answer frankly, folding out your fingers to list the reasons. 

“Firstly, he needs to get me drunk. Secondly, he’s not you, Qimir. And third, disregarding everything I just said: how do you know I'm not?”

“Am I wrong?” he presses, his eyes fixed on you as he raises an eyebrow and takes another swig of his drink.

“I mean, if he eventually shows his face to me, maybe I could. But until then…” 

Nonchalantly, you lift a shoulder and down the rest of what’s in your cup. After finishing, you lean back onto the counter, resting your chin in your upturned palm, and wait for him to fill your cup again. 

And so he does, but Qimir becomes uncharacteristically pensive. Eyes focused on serving you, rather than on you. After pouring your drink, his playfulness with the bottle turns into a tight-fisted grip. Maybe drunk Qimir was more somber. Quiet.

“Maybe…” His voice drops to a lower, deeper register than you’re used to, his eyes avoiding yours as his mouth tightens. An index finger rhythmically taps against his bottle, like a dooming countdown. “Maybe he’s not sure if you’re loyal enough to see his face.” 

The sudden slamming of your cup against the counter breaks his demeanor, and he’s back to being his usual, easily-startled self. 

“Well, that frustrates the shit out of me because I respect him!” you cry, almost yelling at him. 

Qimir’s gaze sharpens, giving you his entire attention, and you stare back resolutely. Readying yourself, as if confiding in him might reach your master’s ears, wherever he may be. Hell, he probably was listening with a device somewhere on Qimir, on you, or within the store.  

“I obey him. I've killed for him. I’d do anything for him,” your voice slightly wavers, but you push on. “I am literally devoted to him with every breath in my body.” 

There’s a sting in your eyes, but you refuse to let yourself show weakness, even if it’s just Qimir in front of you. Bringing the cup to your mouth, you let the burn scald your throat, drowning any trace of sadness or frustration. 

You chug for some time. After a while, Qimir lifts a hand, but you abruptly stop drinking and interject with a tired chuckle and small smile; he awkwardly drops his hand. 

The serious moment passes swiftly with a twinkle in your eye. You silently thank the alcohol for that.

“Although, maybe that's half a lie.”

In the corner of your vision, you catch the intrigued quirk in Qimir’s eyebrow, along with a flicker of anger. Barely noticeable, but it’s there, and you wonder why he would be angry.

You waggle a finger. “Keep this between us, but”—you lean in closer and drop your voice to a whisper—“I'm probably more devoted to you than to him.”

You exchange a glance, and the expression on his face shifts from seriousness to amusement, the flicker of anger completely dissipated. He mirrors your earlier stance, resting his chin in his palm. 

“That's only because I help you all the time,” he says, granting you a soft smile that reaches his eyes. 

This is a rare moment from Qimir, so you try your best to commit it to memory. Remembering his warm glow, the crinkles around his eyes, and how close he is to you. So close that the hint of the alcohol in his breath brushes your face, but it’s not as strong as you thought it would be.

“Well, there's that…” you admit, nodding, and you break eye contact as you say–

“But you're also my friend, Qimir.”

You barely breathe the last few words out in a whisper, almost as if you were ashamed to say it. But you aren’t–worry merely runs rampant as you fear rejection or something of a similar shade, despite it being just a platonic confession. 

“I am?” 

His reaction causes you to peer back at him. He draws his head back with a tilt, and you’ve never seen him so puzzled before. There’s a brief pause as he gives it some thought, his eyebrows furrowing in contemplation.

Then, he nods his head and his lips curl into a crooked, almost cocky, grin. 

“Huh. I guess I am.”

You clutch your chest in jest and muster your best puppy-eyed frown. “Ouch, if I knew this relationship was that one-sided, I would’ve asked him for another one of his followers to replace you.” 

The glimmer in his eyes reads as good-natured, but the blatant flexing of his grip against the edge of the counter says otherwise. 

“You wouldn't.”   

You push back, jutting out your chin and getting close to him again with a flash of a smirk. 

“Oh, I absolutely would.”

You stare at each other, holding your ground. 

But then he breaks the little game when he slightly drags his lower lip between his teeth, followed by a fleeting glance towards your mouth.

Your breathing hitches. 

In an instant, the moment shatters when Qimir clears his throat and pulls back.  

“Do you…” Qimir begins hesitantly, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing a random spot on the counter. He inhales deeply, almost as if he’s steeling himself, then continues, “Have you ever thought you and him could be, like, something more?”

“You mean…” You squint, searching for the right words. “...have I ever thought about dating my master?” 

“Mm-hmm.” 

You raise an eyebrow and stare blankly at him. 

“You've met him, right? We’re talking about the same guy?”

Before he answers, he sips again from his bottle. You become entranced by Qimir’s Adam’s apple as it bobs with each glug. Maybe these thoughts were being filtered through beer goggles, but if Qimir wanted to know about your current ranked dating choices, he'd probably be at the top of your list. 

A soft pop sounds as his lips detach from it. The word kissable flashes through your mind. 

“I mean, I know he's not really the talkative type but–”

“But what if he's butt-ass ugly?” you blurt out in a screech, pressing your hands into your cheeks in your drunken state.

“He is not butt-ass ugly,” Qimir cuts in, more defensively than you expect. 

You drop your hands and chortle loudly, so much that it echoes throughout the store. In disbelief, you grin ear to ear. 

“I thought you said you haven't seen him before!” you say, holding out an arm. 

“I—I didn't. Haven't! I haven’t,” he stammers, raising a hand and shaking his head. He runs a hand through his disheveled hair. “But why must you assume he's ugly?”

You groan, shaking closed fists and tapping them to your forehead. “Why else wouldn’t he take off that stupid mask?” 

You glance up, seeing Qimir’s nostrils flare as he opens his mouth, but you quickly cut him off. 

“And why would I like him that way anyway? All he does is just bark orders and share wise, yet oddly cryptic, phrases.” 

“Hey, so do I,” Qimir retorts, flicking the tip of your nose with his finger. The force he uses makes your nose sting a bit, but you’re sure he didn’t mean to flick you that roughly. In response, you ruffle your nose petulantly. 

You could definitely get used to being like this with Qimir more often. 

“Yeah, but you’re not as cryptic,” you point out, “and he’d be lucky if he was half as handsome as you, Qimir.”

You lightly touch his arm, expecting him to bask in your compliment, but he catches you off guard with a chuckle instead. 

“Why are you laughing at my compliment?” you ask, somewhat hurt.

“I'm just enjoying your company, my”—he hesitates for a second, as if catching himself from saying something else, before meeting your gaze—“my friend.” 

The way he says friend hangs in the air, carrying an unspoken weight. He shakes his head, as if brushing off a thought, and laughs awkwardly. “I’ve gotta get used to that.”

Surprisingly, he continues to dwell on the subject of you and your master. “I mean, if you really think about it, the guy's probably lonely. Probably also likes you a lot more than he lets on and–”

“Okay, stop.” You hold both hands out. “Why are you trying to set me up with him?” You gasp, “Oh, my god–is he your brother?” 

“Wow, time flies by so fast!” Qimir exclaims dramatically, quickly getting up from his stool and practically tripping on his own feet. “It’s getting late, and I’m gonna head to bed. Good night!” 

In the blink of an eye, he’s already darting upstairs to his temporary bedroom. 

“Qimir, answer me!” you call out. “Is he a distant cousin? You must’ve seen him before if he’s related to you.” 

“Good night, my friend!” he hollers back.

“Qimir, get back here!”

“Sweet dreams! And drink some water before you go to bed!” 

Even in moments like these, Qimir still manages to have the final say, his words always laced with the utmost care for you.

///

A few hours go by, the moonlight shining strongly in the night sky. In the comfort of your makeshift bed nestled in one of the corners of the store, you toss and turn aimlessly. Your mind replays everything with Qimir from the last few hours.

And then realization hits you like a sack of duracrete bricks.

You bolt upright up from the bed and switch between muffling a scream in your pillow and smacking it against your face. 

How could you have been so blind to how obvious it all was?

Throwing aside your covers, you carefully and quietly tiptoe upstairs. 

At the top of the stairs, with the help of a few burning candles nearby, you peek at the sight of Qimir snoring softly on his side, arms flopped in different directions; it warms your heart.

You approach and take a seat on the empty side of his bed, summoning courage to gently trace the contours of his face, following the sharp lines of his jaw. He stirs awake moments later, turning to face you directly. 

“Hey, what’s up?” Qimir mumbles groggily. He rubs his eyes. “Everything all right?” 

“Qimir, can you pass a message onto my master?” you ask urgently. 

“Right now?” he groans in annoyance, sitting up. “Can't it wait until morning?” 

“No, I'm sure you can pass it on now. It’s a pretty simple message.” 

You lean in. It’s a quick kiss as your hand rests on his arm. It has to be quick, or else you might change your mind. 

Plush lips press against yours. It’s still and tense for a beat, and then he replies with a slight kiss back. He’s the one who breaks away first, but he leans his forehead against yours.

“Uh, I… You want me to kiss him?” he asks in confusion. 

You slide your hands to the nape of his neck.

“If you mean kissing yourself, then yes, Master.” 

Like flipping a switch, Qimir’s demeanor transforms into something entirely else. His presence intensifies, exuding confidence and strength you’re unused to. His eyes darken, locking onto yours with a gaze that can penetrate your soul. 

His rich, deep voice returns from before, now tinged with authority.

“Took you long enough, my acolyte.”  

This Qimir—your master—moves swiftly with urgency. His grip on your body is firm, almost possessive. His kisses are passionate, his tongue exploring your mouth with fervor. 

“Told you I'm not ‘butt-ass ugly,’” he mumbles, almost growling, between kisses. You giggle, but your giggle quickly turns into a moan as he presses his body firmly into yours.  

“And my mask isn’t stupid. I'll have you know it saved me so many–”

You silence your master with another kiss, focusing on the present and pushing aside debates that could be saved for later.