fourthstay

Hunter fidgetted with his tie, pulling and tugging at the collar. You could feel his eyes roll as he silently complained about Phee’s plan, the one he very loudly argued against back on the ship. 

After the Empire had flooded through Pabu, the island was in need of supplies, resources, and they needed credits to afford the repairs. So, Phee had put together a grand plan. You and Hunter would attend this auction undercover as a rich couple, looking to purchase rare art for your vacation home. Phee would work as a server, and Tech would pilot her ship for when they’d need a quick pick up. This plan only needed the four of you to work, the rest of the Bad Batch stayed on Pabu to help the community. 

It wasn’t that Phee’s plan was bad, you just weren’t sure if Hunter and you were the most believable couple. You’d mentioned to Phee that she and Tech would be the better option, seeing as they were actually a couple. But she had insisted, and you got the sense that she knew something that you didn’t. 

“Stop messing with your tie,” you whispered through clenched teeth, forcing a smile for any rich prick that looked your way. 

“It’s tight,” Hunter replied. 

You fixed where he had loosened his tie, smoothing your hands down his shirt and tucking the end of it back into his blazer. “It’s supposed to be.” 

He huffed a dry chuckle. “You do this often?” 

“Oh, I don’t do ties.” You gestured to your outfit, a dress shirt, blazer, tailored trousers, matching shoes, and the gold chain of your pocket watch that strung from your blazer button to an inside pocket. 

Every part of your appearance had a place, and you’d spent what Hunter described as “too much time” making yourself presentable for high society. In your opinion, he hadn’t spent enough time, his patience had worn thin for finicking with his suit. But he did look good. He pulled off the rugged beauty—that paired with his brooding—made him stoic. Then again, he was the personification of a five o’clock shadow. 

Phee loved to tell stories, and apparently the Bad Batch had done something similar to this mission once, but it hadn’t ended as well as they had hoped. Something about how Phee’s droid, MEL-222, was to blame for their fast exit. At least, that was the part that Hunter had added, Tech agreed with him. 

“Oh, great,” Hunter mumbled as an elderly couple joined you in observing a painting. 

It was large, and its use of red and light colours evoked some sort of romantic and passionate emotions, paired with the contrast of soft to harsh brush strokes. You hadn’t been paying much attention to the art, and neither had Hunter. 

“It’s quite the piece,” the old man said, gesturing to the painting—in case they didn’t understand what he could be talking about. 

“I agree, a conversation piece,” you added, side eyeing Hunter for help. 

He shrugged, he didn’t know anything about art. 

“You two on the look out tonight?” the old woman asked. “We have a lovely granddaughter I could introduce you to, she’s right over there.” 

She pointed somewhere behind you, but you didn’t follow her direction. Honestly, you didn’t care who her granddaughter was, or what she looked like. 

You forced a smile, trying to outweigh Hunter’s scowl. “I’m sure she’s lovely.” 

“She is marvelous. A business woman. Organizes our finances for these kinds of events. Yes, she’s lovely.” 

The woman began to wave her hand, trying to get their granddaughter’s attention from across the room. A panic spread through your body, you really didn’t have time for this. 

“I’m sure she’s lovely,” Hunter interrupted the moment, sliding a hand against the small of your back, “but my husband and I aren’t interested.” 

You looked at him, and he gave you a reassuring nod, telling you to play along. His grip on you was tight, the look he snapped at the old couple was fiery hot—a look that could kill. 

The old woman stuttered, “Oh, I didn’t realize…” 

You gave her a passive aggressive smile. “Yes, the only thing we’re on the look out for is art. Our vacation home is an eyesore without it.” 

Hunter pulled you a little protectively away from the elderly couple, finding a less popular piece of art and pretending to observe it. 

“Thanks,” you said. 

He kept his hand on your waist, really making you two look like an item. “We should lean into the story.” 

“Oh yeah?” You slid a hand on his shoulder, bringing your lips to his ear. “How much?” 

He cleared his throat, turning his head so your noses almost touched. “Do you trust me?” 

You hesitated, searching his eyes for any misdirect. “Is this a trick question?” 

He held a stern look as he stared at you, his brows pulled slightly together and the hard lines of his face tightened. 

“Yeah, I trust you.” 

He accepted your answer, looking down at the sculpture in thr glass case. “What even is that?” 

“That, my dear husband, is a piece of junk that rich assholes like this pay people like me to collect.” 

“You don’t know what it is?” 

“Not one clue.” 

You couldn’t really tell what it was supposed to be, a lump built of stone of some kind. It could have easily been aged clay, Phee probably could have told you more about it, if she hadn’t insisted on being a server. You did admit, pretending to be Hunter’s husband wasn’t bad, maybe Phee was onto something in her own, strange way of going about it. 

Their comlink beeped and Hunter grabbed it, hiding it between your bodies as a shield. 

“I found our treasure,” Phee said in a sing-song voice. 

“Where is it?” Hunter asked. 

“Back hallway, second door on the left from the end. Black box with a gold sticker.” 

You looked around, the room was packed with collectors alike. The back hallway was on your left, empty and dimly lit. 

“Time is of the essence, they’re supposed to start the auction soon. We need to split before then.” 

“On it.” 

He put his comlink back in his pocket, and you grabbed his hand. 

“You know, it’s been a while since I left a function to instead find a back room with a...” You didn’t finish the sentence, leaving out a label. 

With a stranger? No, you knew Hunter quite well. With a friend? A little more than that. With a lover? A little less, you were missing a few of the steps. 

You pulled him away from the crowded art collection and into the dimly lit hallway, following Phee’s directions. 

“Here,” Hunter said. 

He unlocked the door, entering an office scattered with gold and shining sculptures. There was a single large black box sitting on the desk, a golden sticker marking the side. 

You brushed some dust off the top of the box. “Well, that was easy.” 

“No, it’s not,” he replied. 

“What do you mean?” 

He was silent for a moment, listening to something your ears couldn’t pick up on. “Someone’s coming.” 

“Of course someone’s coming,” you mumbled sarcastically. 

“Three people.” 

You leaned against the desk. “Okay, well, what do we do? We can’t exactly waltz out of here with the box, they’ll see it.” 

“We...” He gripped the edge of the desk, putting an arm on either side of your hips. “You said you trust me.” 

“I did say that.” 

His eyes darkened as he weighed your limited options. “You’re going to have to trust me again.” 

“Huh?” 

The footsteps grew louder, you could hear them now, and Hunter held your gaze for a moment. He searched your eyes for rejection, for that moment when one of you would pull away. But the footsteps were almost on you, and Hunter’s mouth was only centimeters from yours. 

“Hunter...” You wrapped an arm around his neck, the other flush against his chest, nodding. 

He cursed, the dark dilation of his pupils hungry, then he grabbed your jaw and crashed your mouths into each other. It was like a cage flung open, bottled up feelings pouring out. You tangled your fingers in his hair, bringing him down harder, wanting him closer. A groan loosened from his throat, lost in the way his tongue found yours in the messy, slow kiss. 

Then the door opened with a loud noise, and the host of the event stopped dead in his tracks as he tried to lead the elderly couple from earlier into the office. 

Hunter broke the kiss first with everything he had in him, meeting your eyes with heavy lids. You released your hold on him, wanting more than anything else right now than to kiss him again. 

“This...” the host began. 

“Sorry,” you said, wiping your bottom lip, “the door was—” 

Hunter added, “We didn’t—” 

“Clients,” the owner told them, avoiding any and all eye contact, focusing on a spot on the ceiling. “If you could...” 

“Sorry,” you apologized again, picking up the box and gripping it in your arms. 

Package secure. 

You and Hunter left the room, both the old couple and the owner sighing in relief once you were gone. They closed the door behind them, going on with their business.

You grinned. 

“Tech,” Hunter said into his comlink, “we need that pick up. And Phee, meet us out the back door.” 

“Aye, aye,” Phee replied. 

“On it,” Tech confirmed. 

You followed the hallway until it forked with the servants’ hallway, and you turned there, following it down and out the exit. The bright light of early morning stung your eyes. You were standing on a landing platform, only a couple of smaller designer speeders were neatly tucked to the side. 

“You played the part well,” Hunter complimented. 

You met his eyes. “It wasn’t all pretend.” 

“Yeah?” He was quiet for a moment, a smile ghosting his lips. “Me too.” 

He began to lean into you, but the whirring sounds of an engine descended upon you, and Tech had arrived with your ride. Phee ran out the exit behind you, embarking onto the ship by the open hatch door, and waving for you both to follow. 

“Come on, love birds!” 

Hunter tore his eyes from yours, and you both rushed onto Phee’s ship after her. Safely on board, you dropped the box of treasures for Phee to pawn off on the bench, and the four of you wisped away into the stars before anyone at the auction noticed what had happened. 

There was a rapping on the door, the rhythmic pattern familiar to the last few times Jedi Master Kit Fisto had been to your apartment. You clicked the button on the wall panel, and the door slid open, revealing his grinning face.

“Well look who it is,” you said, pulling him by his collar into the apartment before crashing his mouth into yours. 

Kit melted into your touch, wrapping his arms around your waist. He knew exactly how your bodies fit, pressing you flush against his chest perfectly in a mesmerizing sensation of hard muscle and tongues messing together. 

“Mm, feels like you missed me,” you teased through a gasp for air. 

You tilted his chin, allowing you better access to his neck, sucking a kiss to one of his tendrils draping over his shoulder. He let a moan loose, and you smirked against his skin.

“Sounds like you did, too.” 

“Well,” he began, a soft chuckle following, “I would be lying if I said I hadn’t longed for this.” 

You tumbled onto the couch, Kit pulling you onto his lap, letting you straddle his hips. You could feel his bulge press against your inner thigh, and you grinded against him, making more suppressed sounds rumble in his chest. 

He had this tired look written across his face, one he was comfortable enough for you to see. But even with that, he was still Kit, and some radiance of positivity found him in his struggle. 

“Hey,” you whispered, skirting your fingers over the angular structure of his face. “What is it?” 

He sighed. “The progression of the war. But it is nothing you have to worry about, love.” 

“Oh, I’m not worried about the war.” You trailed your hands down his chest, putting pressure over his hardening erection. “But you, that’s another story. I want to relieve some of that stress.” 

“I am here now, with you. Present.” 

You got off his lap, kneeling on the floor before him. His eyes widened slightly as he realized what was happening, then he grinned, and helped you tug off his clothes until he was sitting naked before you. The definition of his muscles and waist were illuminated by the shadows of the room, dancing across his green skin. 

The first time the two of you had been intimate, you hadn’t known how to navigate his anatomy. But now, after so long you knew him like you knew yourself, and had the confidence that went along with that knowledge. 

“It’s just us,” you reminded him, treading your fingers together. “Let me make you feel good.” 

“You always do.” 

You held your other hand up to his mouth, and he spit in your palm. Then you wrapped your hand around his cock, feeling him get harder as the lubricant made your pumps glide with a firm pressure. 

You gave some attention to his tip, sliding your thumb over the sensitive point, earning a shiver that rolled through his body. You sucked open mouthed kisses at the base of his shaft, then you stroked your hand down to his base, bringing it up again agonizingly slow.

His free hand twitched beside you, raising slightly and gripping your shoulder. 

“Teasing tonight?” he questioned, his chest heaving with each breath. 

You looked up at him through your lashes, stopping your movements and shaking your head slightly. “Do you want me to stop?” 

“No. That feels good.” 

He tipped his head back, tightening his grip on your hand to avoid holding your head, or digging his fingers in your hair to control the pace. He dropped his other hand from your shoulder, and you continued. 

You peeled back the layer of tentacles, revealing his slightly leaner shaft, coated in an invisible slick. He tried to rock his hips to make your hand move, but you released your other hand from his and pinned his hips to the couch. 

“That’s where you need me?” 

He moaned, the only confirmation you needed. But you didn’t touch his shaft, let the need for it work him up, send him into a whimpering mess. 

You massaged the inside of his tentacle, watching his hands grip the edge of the couch. They wrapped around your fingers, searching for anything to latch onto in the emptiness of your body, to dig into something, probing for that release. 

“You want that kind of evening, huh?” he said, a cheeky smile on his lips. 

You stroked along the edges, finding the sweet spot, watching his eyes squeeze shut. 

“Depends on if you have the stamina for it,” you replied. “If not—”

“Don’t even consider it.” 

You let one of his tentacles into your mouth, swirling your tongue along it, letting it pulse in and out of your pursed lips, giving them the friction they craved. 

“Please,” he begged. 

You pulled back, the warmth from your mouth no longer on him. “For what, Kit?” 

He moaned when you said his name, his hand grabbing his cock, giving it a long stroke. “You’re mischievous.” 

“Mm, and you won’t tell me to suck you off.” 

You knocked his hand away from himself, looking up at him with a grin, then fondled his tentacles, keeping your mouth dangerously close, but never letting them touch. 

“I’m close,” he moaned, a whimper escaping his lips. 

“I want you to come for me, Kit,” you said, your warm breath hitting his shaft. 

Your name caught in his throat, and you took his hand again, letting him squeeze it as he came, his milky white release dripping down his shaft. 

“You did good,” you soothed, pressing a kiss to his thigh. 

You licked up the mess, careful with his sensitive skin. His tentacles closed back up, hiding the leaner shaft behind their layer. You stood up off the floor, and joined him on the couch, leaning into his tired arms.

You grabbed his jaw and kissed him softly, your tongue tracing his bottom lip before slipping in. He groaned into your mouth, and his smile returned, reflecting onto your own lips. 

“I didn’t know you could come like that,” you whispered against his lips, pressing your foreheads together. 

He chuckled. “Ah, but you suspected as much.” 

You couldn’t help yourself from laughing. “You enjoyed every second of it.” 

You kissed you once more, gently pressing your lips together. “I did.” 

You entered your apartment with the familiar click of your key inserting into the wall panel, the green light flashed indicating that it unlocked, and the door slid open. You breathed in the familiar feeling of home, but there was something else—someone else. 

“Hello,” he said, looking up from the datapad that he’d been reading on. 

“Kit,” you breathed, surprise sending your eyebrows shooting up. 

Jedi Master Kit Fisto had been in the Outer Rim for the last couple of weeks. He had told you it was going to be longer, yet here he was. You stood and stared at him, mouth twitching as you tried to form words, a smile turning your lips. 

You continued, “I thought…” 

“I know. We finished our mission early.” 

“Yeah, by a whole week.” 

A grin split his face, and he rounded the counter, dropping his datapad on a side table, and catching you in a tight embrace. 

“Happy to see me, my dear?” he asked, a lightness to his tone. 

You sighed into him. “Very.” 

He pressed a kiss to your cheek, trailing his lips down your neck and shoulder, slipping your work bag from you along with your jacket. 

“You seem excited,” you murmured. 

He broke away for a moment to hang your things on the coat rack by the door, then returned with his signature grin, his hands framing your shoulders. 

“I am always excited to see you,” he replied. 

He caught you in an open mouthed kiss, his smooth tongue painting yours with all the grace of a well disciplined Jedi Master. You, however, did not have that kind of self control, and melted into his touch. 

“That’s not what I meant,” you mumbled against his lips. 

“Care to show me what you did mean?” 

“You aren’t going to butter me up first?” you teased. 

You were caught off guard by the sudden movement as he lifted you onto the counter by your thighs. You were a big girl, it was probably the first thing people noticed about you. Sometimes it was bothersome. But to Kit, it was his favourite thing about you—other than your sparking personality. He loved every part of you, those parts included. Being lifted onto counters wasn’t something you were familiar with, not from any of your past encounters. With Kit, it all seemed so natural. 

“Be careful what you wish for, Gorgeous.” 

You stared into the voids of his eyes, his hands travelling down the wide curves of your body to your hips where he squeezed you lightly before disappearing under your waistband. You gasped when his fingers found your pussy, growing wetter the longer he drew it out. 

“Mm, I missed you,” you moaned when his mouth found yours again. 

“It has been long enough.” 

You tried to grind against his palm, but he stopped you, pulling your pants off and tugging at the bottom of your shirt. 

“I wish to see all of you,” he insisted. 

Hesitantly, you helped him remove your clothing. He took in the sigh of you, his smile growing like he’d won the lottery. 

“You truly are gorgeous.” 

Pink heated your cheeks. He really looked like he meant every word he said as he devoured you with his eyes. He took one of your breasts in his hand, kneading it, and put the other to his mouth, his teeth grazing your nipple as he kissed your skin. You held his head against you by grabbing his tendrils, stroking them in a way that sent a groan rumbling through his chest. 

You threw your head back, bracing your hand on the counter behind you to keep yourself upright. “Kit, I need you.” 

He sucked at the underside of your breast, leaving behind dark marks in appreciation. 

“Kit,” you begged again, “please.” 

He took his mouth off your breasts, kissing your mouth in a way you would be thinking about for weeks. 

“Can you lay back for me?” The command came with a set of craving eyes, and he helped lower your back against the counter. “Good.” 

He trailed his mouth down your stomach, nipping his teeth around your curves. He took his time self indulging in adoring your body, never seeming to get enough of you. He reached your legs, lifting them and pressing his face between your thick thighs. 

“Kit, I don’t want to suffocate you,” you warned, your hand gripping one of his tendrils. 

He grinned. “If you don’t, then I’m not doing something right.” 

His tongue licked your pussy, eating you out like it was his favourite meal of the day, and that he’d been looking forward to this moment. He groaned, and the sound vibrated against your clit, making your legs shake. 

“Fuck, Kit,” you moaned. 

He sucked at your clit and you felt the pressure growing in your lower stomach, pleasure building as he inserted two fingers inside of you, pulsing them in a way that hit the perfect spots. 

“Kit, I’m gonna—” 

You squeezed your thighs around his head as your orgasm crashed through you in a wave of pleasure, feeling his tongue lick up every last drop of you. You released your hold on his tendril, realizing how hard you were gripping it. 

He kissed your inner thighs in a “thank you”, then your stomach, trailing soft marks up your body with his affection. He helped you sit up, holding you as he murmured praises in your ear. 

“You look so good spread out for me,” he whispered, his hands holding your sides. 

You hummed into his shoulder. “You carry all that talent around and no one knows.” You clicked your tongue. “It’s a shame.” 

He smiled against your hair. “You know, and that’s the only person who matters.” 

He kissed the corners of your mouth, then fitted your mouths together, deeply and sweetly as he rubbed your thigh, not caring that he’d just made a meal out of your pussy. 

“You know,” you began when you came up for a breath, “I own a bed.” 

He chuckled, kissing you again. “I am aware.” 

“Just reminding you, in case you wanted me to take care of this.” You pressed your hand against his pants and cupped his erection. 

He lifted you off the counter, his fingers not leaving your sides, and you steered him towards the bed. 

On the Republic capital of Coruscant, a bar called 79’s was nicknamed the “clone bar”, frequented by soldiers of the Grand Army of the Republic and Jedi. Civilians were welcome, and when you entered the bar you were met with white armour and identical faces. 

After how many of them you’d seen in your career, they all blended together, no differing markers. They were like droids, and the Republic manufactured them to fight in the same war. 

You earned a couple whistles and other complimentary shouts in your direction, which you winked at but continued on, not wasting your time with clones. Sprinkled throughout the bar were Jedi, their distinguishable robes making them stand out, no doubt unintentionally—they seemed to select dull clothing as a symbol of their dedication to their religion. Some civilians flirted with clones around you, and you wove through the crowd, dodging messy makeouts, stumbling drunks, and pairs dancing closely. 

You scanned the room, trying to latch onto any of your targets. A few of your options from your briefing with your boss, Count Dooku, were present, and that was enough. You only needed one. 

Laughter caught your ear, and you fixed your concern on a Nautolan man with green skin and a wide grin. He sat at a booth chatting with a couple of clones, their tipsy points of interest drifting towards the dance floor. Separatist databanks identified the man as Jedi Master Kit Fisto, and you trusted the sources of that information. If it was good enough for Count Dooku, then it was good enough for you. 

“Tell us about the time you infiltrated General Grievous’ lair,” one of the troopers prodded. 

“How did you even get in there?” the second trooper questioned. 

“I always find a second look pays off,” Kit Fisto answered with his signature grin. “Grievous is no fool, unprepared perhaps, but he was prepared for something as spontaneous as our company.” 

“What happened when he found you?” 

“He triggered his traps, every room and wall was rigged. He hit us with everything he had, including a roggwart.” 

Kit Fisto didn’t brag, he was just describing his experience as he had lived it. He continued to explain the details of his adventure with authenticity, pausing at the right times for suspense, using fluid gestures to bring the story to life. He was a good storyteller, keeping his audience invested. 

The crowd around his booth grew as more and more people wanted to hear about the Jedi’s deadly encounter with the vile General Grievous. He did justice in describing truly how nefarious the cybernetic spider-like leader was. 

You stood at the bar, catching his void-like eyes across the room. He seemed to trail off mid-sentence, and the two clones across his booth prompted him to continue. A slight smirk played on your lips, holding his eyes where you wanted them, locked with yours. Then you looked away, your lips parting as you slowly turned. 

“Yes, I wouldn’t have made it out if it weren’t for my astromech. We never did find out who the trap was really set for, and what Count Dooku had planned for Grievous.” 

The crowd erupted with applause and comments, most people intoxicated past the point of intelligent notions. He stood, shooing off the gathered spectators back to their own business, the show over. 

“That is all for tonight.” 

The bar returned to loud music competing with chatter, laughter, and people’s feet as they shuffled around. Despite all of this, you heard him approach, his arm resting on the bar top next to you. The two clones he’d been with were gone, joining the crowd of other soldiers becoming familiar with women and men alike in tight clubbing attire. 

“Do you mind if I steal your attention?” he asked. 

“You already have.” You dropped your eyes down, leisurely dragging them up his body. “That was quite the story. How much of it was true?” 

He flashed you a smile, his lips curling to reveal his teeth. It looked good on him paired with the upbeat charm in his eyes. “I wouldn’t dare lie for your pleasure.” 

You leaned in, maintaining eye contact as you tightened the distance between you. “And what will you do for my pleasure?” 

He dropped his voice to a whisper, “I have a few ideas.”

You wrapped your fingers around one of his tendrils draped over the front of his shoulder, pulling gently as you brought your faces together. An amused smirk spread across his face, and he stopped. You could feel his lips form the words against your skin. 

“Do you have a place?” 

“I’m just visiting,” you answered, rubbing circles against the tendril in your hand, stroking it teasingly. “I could use somewhere to stay for the night.” 

“Ah.” He angled your chin with the crook of his finger as he spoke into your mouth. “Should we get out of here, Miss...?” 

You rocked your head from side to side, brushing your nose against his. “Tonight I’m whoever you want me to be.” 

He didn’t complain there, and he leaned his head back, clearly analyzing you, picking apart your appearance. It gave you the perfect cover to do the same, locating his lightsaber, comlink, and the light armour protecting his forearms. 

He smirked at that. “I like the way you think.” 

He grabbed your hand, clasping your fingers together, and navigated you out of the bar. On the walkway he hailed a cab and the two of you climbed into the yellow speeder. 

“Where’re you goin’?” the cab driver grumbled. 

“The Jedi Temple,” Fisto answered, an understated grin seeming to always touch his face. 

Your lips were on his the second the cab started moving, sliding over the smoothness of his tongue, your fists clenching his robes, keeping him close. 

The cab dropped you off at the large, intimidating building that was the Jedi Temple. He nearly kicked you two out for not being able to keep your hands—or mouths—to yourselves. But after Fisto paid him he didn’t seem to mind, wishing you both a splendid evening. 

Kit took your hand again, bringing you the fastest way through the Temple to a hallway and a room that could only be opened with the Force. He swiped his hand through the air, an invisible force making the internal cogs of the lock turn, and with a click, the door slid open. You stumbled into the room, a mess of lips and teeth clashing, and a heavy click confirmed the locking of the door again. 

Out of all of your targets, you were glad it was Kit Fisto. It made this next part more enjoyable, and a choice. 

You stripped off your clothes eagerly, helping him with the last of his. “Come here,” you breathed, catching him in a kiss. 

His hands wandered down your ass to your thighs, and he picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. He was strong, body covered in muscle which you would have never known unless you got him naked, the Jedi robes leaving nothing to be speculated. 

He laid you down on the bed, his hips between your thighs as he lowered his mouth to yours, kissing you deeply. You gasped when his fingers found your pussy, pushing two inside and moving them in a scissoring motion as his thumb rubbed against your clit. 

You were expecting a quick dirty and done hook-up—in and out before so much as a few words were spoken. The plan, the one that could allow you to start and complete your mission, needed him to be asleep. With the way this was going, you expected a long, sleepless night for you both. 

You leaned into his touch, grinding against his hand as you slid your tongues together, swallowing the sounds in your throat before they could reveal themselves. 

“Let me hear you, I want to hear your voice,” he said, swirling his fingers inside of you. 

You bit down on his bottom lip as you came, your pussy squeezing in search of his cock with the absence of his fingers. He kissed down your neck then sat back on his heels, pumping his cock at the sight of you. 

He was fully hard, the length of his shaft had a green swirling pattern. As he continued, the layer he’d been holding peeled back into four tentacles, revealing a slightly leaner shaft with a gently pointed tip, thicker at the bottom and it swelled at the base where the tentacles connected. 

This was going to be fun. 

“May I?” you offered, reaching up a hand. 

He leaned over you, caging his biceps around your head, pressing the head of his dick against your stimulated clit. 

“You want me?”he teased, a grin splitting his face. “Can you handle it?” 

You stroked his cock, feeling a slick layer that you hadn’t seen, and lined him up with your entrance. Your hands travelled back up his body, grabbing one of his tendrils like you had at the bar and pulled him down for a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. He slid inside you, your walls clamping around him and a soundless cry broke your lips. 

“Is it too much?” 

You shook your head, grabbing his shoulders to steady you. “No, keep going.” 

He smiled, kissing down your jaw and neck as he slid completely into you, the swelling at his base pressing against your folds. “Good.” 

His thrusts were deliberate, hitting you in all the right spots that drove you towards the edge. Even his hands and the rest of his body supported you, making you stay present in the moment, maintaining eye contact as he quickened his thrusts. 

He groaned low against your mouth, and a new sensation grew as two of his tentacles pressed against your clit and the other two billowed in your ass. Your vision blurred as you arched your back into him, tears stinging your eyes. Your orgasm rippled through you, intensified like you’d never experienced before. You had never been so self-aware during sex, so focused on the experience rather than the finish. 

He groaned and snapped his hips into you, then slowed as he reached his climax, panting heavily. You traced your fingers over his cheek bones then kissed him, his smile contagious and you laughed, pressing your foreheads together. 

He was still hard, thrusting gently into you. 

“Kit,” you moaned. “I’m sore.” 

“I know, my dear. You can take it.” He kissed away the tears streaking your cheeks, his thrusts slowing. “Tell me how it feels.” 

His tentacle massaged your swollen clit, it was too much, your hips buckled against him, but the tension in your lower stomach grew. 

“Kit,” you choked, pressing your fingers into his shoulders until they turned white. “Kit, it’s...” 

“Feel your body, what does it tell you?” 

Your legs shook as electric waves rolled through you, his thrusts hitting the spot that caused your undoing. He rubbed a hand over your thigh, bringing it against his hip where it moved with his thrusts. You were back to that state of blissful awareness, and it sent you over the edge, your climax shivering through your body. 

“You did good, so good.” 

He pulled out with a soft sigh, then kissed your heavy eyelids, down your neck and to your chest, over the curves of your breasts, then your stomach. You caught your breath, your tired body sagging into his touch. He reached your thighs and pressed his face between them, lifting your legs over his shoulders as he kissed your inner thighs. You shuddered as he drew nearer to your cunt, then he smoothed his tongue over where it hurt. 

You let out a long breath, running your fingers over the tendrils coming out of his head, gripping him to control the pressure he put on your sensitive skin. 

“Kit...” Your tone was husk, basked with the sleepiness from sex. “A little higher.” 

He obeyed your directions, his tongue licking through your folds and sucking at your throbbing clit, sending you easily into another orgasm. 

He set your legs down, crawling beside you on the bed and rested on his back. You took long, deep breaths, making your heart simmer from its pounding in your chest, and your breath evened. 

“What was that?” you asked. “Meditative sex?” 

He exhaled a chuckle through his nose. “Were you present?” 

“Yes.” You tilted your chin to look at him, a lulled smile present. 

“Then, yes, it was.” 

Reality slammed back into you, and a nauseating, awful feeling filled your stomach. 

You cleared your dry throat. “I need to clean myself up.” 

“Allow me, you are my guest.” 

It was probably best if he helped. Your legs were no better than jelly, weak after the multiple orgasms that had crashed through your body, one after the other. 

Kit helped you into the shower, entering behind you as he lathered your body in soap. He was gentle, allowing you to brace yourself before and as he washed between your legs as quickly and lightly as he could. You braced yourself against the wall as he cleaned himself, his cock having returned to normal. 

He shut the water off, and dried you with a towel, pressing soft kisses to your face and neck. He knelt down to dry your legs and pressed a kiss to each hip bone then your pussy. It was so soothing that your body wanted to relax, to melt into him and accept his gentle touches and warmth. 

But you had a job to do. 

He carried you to the bed, tucking you under the sheets and catching a final kiss before he turned the lights off and got into bed. You were on your side, turned away from him, trying to shut out his warmth and charming grin. His hand rested on your waist, and that was the only bit of him you allowed yourself to accept. 

The Coruscant traffic never seemed to die down, the honking and engines were heard all throughout the night, acting as a background white-noise. In many ways it was similar to Raxus and other cities you had visited throughout your life, while also being completely different and unique. 

Must stay awake, must stay awake, you repeated in your mind. 

If you could do this discretely, you would. But in bed with a Jedi you knew you’d have to resort to your original plan, and he proved that. 

It had been hours since you’d “fallen asleep”, using your training to fake all the signs of it. Kit was silent, he hadn’t moved at all, his hand still draped over you. You waited a beat, listening and looking around while your body remained still. 

You shifted your leg, dropping it off the bed, then moved your hips to remove his hand from your waist. 

Then it all went wrong, and you noticed your mistake. 

“I cannot let a spy loose in the temple.” 

You kept your reaction minimal, his grip on your waist tightening, and assessed your options in the twilight dark room.

 “That would be exactly why you came here, no?” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

His fingers pressed with bruisening strength on your skin. “How I wish that were true.” 

He rolled you under him, his dark eyes searching yours, his hands keeping you pinned. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you repeated softly, your eyes wide as you smoothed your fingers over his. “Kit.” 

“You are skilled, very talented. And very close to getting away with it, had I not known.” 

Your face dropped, levelling him a darker, sharper look. “You knew the entire time?” you asked.

“I could feel your determination, and it wasn’t the pursuit.” He removed a hand from your waist, tapping the tendril you’d been holding onto back at 79’s. 

“Pheromones,” you stated. It wasn’t a question, it was more like a swear—you should have known better. 

“You allowed your wants to dominate your mission.” 

You kicked him, rolling away when he only had a single hand gripping you. It was enough to make him let go, and you put some distance between the two of you, kneeling on the edge of the bed. 

“Your attempts are admirable, but it is my responsibility to protect the Temple. It would be best if you turned yourself in,” he said. 

“I really don’t want to fight you.” 

He smiled, offering you his hand. “You do not have to make this difficult for yourself. Please, turn yourself in.” 

You looked around, your clothes scattered across the floor. The good thing with having picked Kit Fisto as your target, was it made the sex better. But he was also a Master Jedi, and one of the finest duelists in the Jedi Order. You heard him back at the bar, he had bested General Grievous, a fighter who utilized multiple lightsabers and contained hundreds of cybernetic modifications. If it went down to it, and you had to fight him...there was no chance that you were coming out victorious. 

His lightsaber laid on top of the pile of his clothes, but you knew better than to think that gave you an advantage, he could get it in a second using the Force. 

“Okay,” you agreed, taking his hand. 

He pulled you into him, and you nudged your nose against his, sliding your mouths together. You crunched a capsule you had tucked in your cheek, then spread the contents onto his tongue, feeling him gag and push you away.

“What was that?” he asked, shaking his head like it would help him. 

“A poison. I’ve grown largely immune to it, but you aren’t.” 

His eyes fluttered shut with heavy lids as he struggled to stay awake. 

“We had fun,” you said. “Sleep well, and hope that someone finds you before it kills you.” 

“You...” 

He dropped, his head hitting the pillow with a heavy thump. You pushed him into a comfortable position that didn’t strain his neck, and wouldn’t drip the poison down his throat. If it did, it would slim his odds of survival. 

“Your Nautolan biology will adapt to the poison,” you told his unconscious form. Then softly, you muttered to yourself, “Hopefully.” 

You dressed yourself, combing your fingers through your hair and fixing your appearance before leaving the bedroom. It was still night, and the Temple was silent, only the Jedi Sentinels roamed the halls, and you used your training to slip past them, following your instructions. 

After that, your mission was a success. 

You left the Jedi Temple as silently as you could, and contacted Count Dooku on your success. 

You returned to Raxus with a wandering mind.

Fanfic Masterlist | General info | Ao3

You finished your hard day’s work by parking the piece of farming machinery you’d used to fertilize the fields of crops in the barn. 

You lived in a farming town on a small planet in the Outer Rim, had your entire life. The Empire ignored the civilians’ all the way out here, and they ignored this system the same as the Separatists and the Republic had done before. 

In this case, it worked out. 

Outsiders would sometimes pass through. If not this town, then another. Maybe close by, maybe on the other side of the planet. It wasn’t often, but it happened. It was enough to be the talk of the town. 

The planet was dedicated to agriculture as a way of life. They were communities, built on trading and supplying all their needs. 

It was hard work, but with equal reward. 

“See you tomorrow morning!” you said in farewell to your boss, giving him the keys to the barn you’d just locked up. 

He had a hearty laugh as he waved you goodbye. 

By speeder it took you a couple minutes to enter town again, slowing down when you reached the streets. You took the back road to your house where you left the speeder in its spot by the shed, meaning to pick it up tomorrow morning to do it all over again. 

You made your way into town, planning to hit the bar, grab a drink to celebrate the end of the day. But then someone caught your eye. 

He was new, from off-world. Word on the street was that he used to be a soldier in the war. He got a job working in the fields with the machinery and heavy lifting. As far as anyone was concerned, he fit in fine. He was helpful, friendly. Though he kept his thoughts to himself more than not. It had only been a couple weeks, he was settling, speaking to those who had the courage to inquire about him. He was just adjusting to their community. 

For those reasons, he had piqued your interest. Someone who nobody knew anything about, friendly but private. 

The man had dark hair and olive skin, a healed deep cut on the left side of his face. From the looks of it, he was lucky whatever had cut him had missed his eye. 

“Hey!” you yelled as you ran to catch up with him. “Wait up.” 

He looked to be coming off his shift, same as you were. Looking around, he seemed confused if you were speaking to him or not. You stood right in front of him, answering his confusion.

“Hi,” you greeted, sticking out your hand. “Do you know who I am?” 

“Sure.” His voice was deep with a noticeable rumble. “End of town, yellow house.” 

“So you know where I live?” His eyes shot wide, his mouth moving to explain himself. You put up your hand. “I’m teasing you.” 

“You’re hard to miss,” he said, like it added anything. 

It did. 

“I’m Cody,” he introduced. 

“Nice to meet you.” He took your hand, giving it a firm shake. “I was going to get a drink, want to join me?” 

The streets were filled with people as the end of shift happened, people were eager to get home. 

“I was just headed there,” he replied in acceptance. 

You shuffled past people who were trying to leave the center of town where all the shops were. The bar was large, it was a popular spot, filled with lots of seating options. 

You picked a free table and sat down, your feet thanking you. Cody was very disciplined with his actions, even sitting he didn’t relax. 

You ordered your drinks, listening to the live music being played in the corner of the bar. It was simple, a one-man show by the local musician who was always found performing somewhere. 

“Where are you from?” you asked Cody. 

“A little bit of everywhere,” he answered. 

“How specific.” 

He was stiff, not elaborating. His gaze was trained on the drink in his hands, swirling the liquid around.  

“They say you were a soldier in the war,” you said. 

“Who says that?” 

You nudge your head to a table across the bar filled with farmers. They were workers he’d passed friendly conversation with a few times, helped them load their wagons and other work in the fields. You had caught the farmers yesterday on a lunch break, got trapped in a long conversation of rumours and awe. 

“They’d be correct,” he told you. 

You leaned in a little closer. “We didn’t get the war out here. We’re self-sufficient enough that we didn’t stumble. But we heard about the battles through the radio.” 

“You’re the lucky ones.” 

“If you’re a soldier, shouldn’t you be working for the Empire?” 

He looked beyond you, lost in his own thoughts. A tinge of guilt sparked in your stomach, you didn’t mean to bring up any bad memories, make him uncomfortable with your questioning. 

You took a swig of your drink, washing down your nerves. “You don’t have to worry about the Empire finding you here, they’re no friend of ours. We’re small, and the Empire hasn’t industrialized us.” 

You didn’t need his explanation for why he left the Empire. If you were in his shoes, you would have wanted the same. Except you didn’t know his history, the circumstances he left in, what he did in the name of the Empire. But he left. And he wound up here. 

His business was his own. 

“The Empire...” he began. “It wasn’t who I am.” 

“And who are you?” 

He sighed. “Just Cody.” 

You offered him a smile, knocking your elbow into his. He lightened, as much as he seemed to be able to. He looked like he held the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders, maybe at one point he had. 

It reminded you of guilty farmers who had seen too much, done things they regretted that impacted the community. 

“I’m done fighting,” Cody said, taking a sip of his drink. 

“So, the simple life?” 

“Yeah. Quiet.” 

You grinned. “Can’t help you there, Cody. I’m sure I’ll make you laugh.” 

The corner of his lip twitched and he let out a nasal, breathy chuckle. But it could have been a scoff. 

Halfway there, you thought. 

“What about you?” he asked. 

“The simple life doesn’t sound so bad. Simple doesn’t mean boring. I’ll just have to find the right people to spend it with.” You winked. “I’ll keep you posted.” 

A flush of red crept up his neck, but he kept a composed form, like he hadn’t noticed the blush. 

“Yeah,” he muttered, taking another swig of his drink. 

“So you’re a veteran from everywhere and nowhere. Got any special talents?” 

“What?” 

“Nothing cool that you can do? Like juggle or balance a spoon on your nose?” 

He arched an eyebrow. 

“Oh, come on. Nothing?” 

“Yeah? What can you do?” 

You put your drink down. “I can read upside down.” 

“That’s not a talent.” 

“It totally is.” 

He rolled his eyes and you smiled at his disproval. His eyes were brown, a shade of amber like a cross between the setting sun and soil. 

You continued, “My neighbour can burp the alphabet.” You paused. “Or, at least I hope that’s what that noise is.” 

He turned his head, genuinely laughing with the slight shake of his head. It was contagious, and you joined in. 

“Ha. Told you I could make you laugh.” 

“You said it yourself, simple doesn’t mean boring.” 

He returned his gaze to you, and you soaking in his smile. It felt like a personal victory that you’d made him laugh, the feeling resting in your chest. 

“I hope you like it here,” you said. 

“Do you?” 

“Do I, what?” 

“Like it here.” 

You nodded. “For the simple life, I wouldn’t choose anywhere else.” 

He looked down at both of your finished drinks. It was getting late, and the bar was emptier now, only a couple tables left. 

“And, for whatever it’s worth,” you added, “I think you deserve the life you want. A chance to be ‘just Cody’.” 

He sighed. “That’s worth more than you realize.” 

You checked the clock on the opposite wall. “I’m headed home, have to get up early.” 

“I’ll walk you.” 

You caught his eye, and the sliver of that smile he’d given you earlier. His eyes spoke volume to the impact the war had on him, but behind all of that, there was hope.

Khoan was Pantoran. He was smug, cocky even, and preferred diplomacy/negotiations over combat. Some considered him a bad influence because he had an interest in sex, drugs, alcohol, and partying. He liked pointing out that the Jedi Code forbade attachment and entering relationships, but said nothing about getting laid.

Khoan Kolau was the first and only Padawan of Amalthea Dara (OC). He was the same age as Anakin Skywalker and through training they became close friends. He became Amalthea's Padawan at 12, having been selected by Master Yoda and Master Windu. Amalthea and Khoan had a slow start to their relationship, for Amalthea didn't want to be his master and the role was being pushed on her. But it didn't take long for the duo to form a strong bond, and they developed an older sister-younger brother relationship.

The daughter of Harvey Dent and Edward Nygma.

She’s the biological daughter of Harvey Dent from a previous relationship (before he became Two-Face) and when she was 5 years old Edward and Harvey got together.

Harvey’s nickname for her is “Sally Brown” because as a kid she was extremely blonde, wore lots of pink, and was kinda bossy. Jordan didn’t get it until she was a bit older and watched “A Charlie Brown Christmas”. Edward called her “Joey” originally just to bother Harvey but the name stuck. Her parents both continued using these nicknames into her adult years.

Jordan was close with her aunt, Pamela (Poison Ivy), a friend of her parents’. (Harvey and Pamela have their moments, okay?) She called Pamela “Aunty Pam” since she was around 4 years old.

In her pre-teen and teen years Jordan assisted her parents against Batman. Mostly behind the scenes shipment stuff for Harvey’s organization.

Eventually she managed Harvey's criminal empire because he wanted her to take it over rather than someone else take it by force. But she had her own organization when she was going by Killer Queen and was operating in Crime Alley and the Bowery.

In her early adult years she took a 4-year trip to Arkham Asylum after a bombing incident (it was all her).

Upon her release from Arkham, Crime Alley was now under the protection of the Red Hood.

At a point she was a conditional member of the Outlaws.