vee | she/her

Your eyes scan over the crowded space: a single long room that’s only really accessible by a stone staircase leading up to the main street of campus. 

You’ve been nursing your first drink for at least twenty minutes. William’s on number two, and just sent Rick off to get number three.

“Listen to me.” William grabs you by the shoulders. “You don’t have to take that shit anymore. No more deadbeat guys who can’t fuck and do the bare minimum.” 

You laugh, but he doesn’t.

“I’m serious!” He shakes you a little bit, like it’ll make the point stick. “You’re hot! You’re smart! You’re funny!” He looks you up and down. “If I liked girls I’d want to get you out of that tiny little dress immediately.”

“Okay, okay!” You giggle. A smile cracks his face, and widens exponentially when his gaze drifts over your shoulder and locks on something behind you. 

“Um, why do you look evil?” You ask, straw at your lips.

The expression stays.

“Did I not mention in my pitch that I had a gift for you?”

“What is it?” You try to turn, but his hands hold you in place.

“Your savior is here, my darling.” You don’t love the look he’s giving you.

“William-“

“Amber! Over here!” 

You’re officially nervous, William’s hands falling away from you. The music is still pounding, one song transitioning into the edm remix of another.

Amber hugs you from behind in greeting, her bracelets clinking together. “Hey beautiful!” 

“Hey honey.” You plant a kiss on her cheek, leaving a sparkly lipgloss print behind.

“William, you’re brilliant and I love you.” She says.

Words form then die on your lips in half an instant, a prickle traveling up your neck.

You can feel him before you see him. Like a mountain erupted from the ground behind you and is suddenly looming.

You’re sweating.

“Mark!” William exclaims. In half a second you’re able to surmise that, 

A.) William is so fucking dead,

B.) Your friends might’ve gotten you a dick appointment to help you get out of your funk,

and 

C.) You recognize that name.

Mark. 

Fragments of conversions fill in little gaps: William telling stories from middle and high school, Amber talking about an ex that she’s still friends with. This isn’t some random dude from one of your classes, this is someone close to them. Someone they care about.

“-she’s really cool, I promise. She’s just bad at listening.” Amber’s elbow in your side catapults you back into the conversation. 

The owner of the looming presence has moved from behind to in front of you, standing beside William.

Holy fuck.

Your eyes travel up his body unsubtly. He’s tall, towering over you even in your heels. He’s dressed simply in a pair of chino pants and a boxy short sleeved button down, left open and layered over a white t shirt. 

You can see a peek of bicep out of his sleeves, and the cut of his jaw is sharp even with the ghost of 5 o'clock shadow. 

Dear God, your friends are setting you up with a male model.

“It’s nice to meet you, I’ve heard a lot.” His voice is deep but light. Maybe a little shy. You meet his eyes, and curse the low light for not letting you see their color.

You smile at him. “Nice to meet you too. I’ve heard your name a few times for sure, but-“ you shoot a look at William , who is conveniently looking anywhere but at you. “Definitely not enough;”

Amber squeezes your shoulder, eyes shining when you turn to her. “William and I are gonna go grab me a drink at the bar and find Rick.” You bite back a smile when she winks, then wave them off.

“Yeah yeah, go help William get his man wasted.”

You watch Mark watch them weave through the crowd, linked at the elbow. His dark hair is fluffy, just a little bit of a wave to it.

“They are… not subtle, are they?” Mark asks when he turns back to you, smile crooked.

“Not at all.” Your eyes fall to his Adam’s apple, the low lights hiding your blush. “So… Mark-“

“Grayson.” He supplies. 

“Grayson,” you echo. “What did those two say to get you here tonight?” Flashes of colorful light dance across his skin as he shifts to lean against the wall beside you.

He shrugs. “They just told me they had someone I should meet, is all.” 

Your brows draw together. “You went to high school with them, right? That’s like three and a half hours from here.”

Something odd blips across his face, but it’s gone before you can discern it. He just stuffs his hands in his pockets, gaze searching yours. “I dunno, it’s the least I can do; I like being there when people need me.” He smiles crookedly. “Plus I drive 9 over the speed limit.”

You feign shock, a hand flying to your chest. “Woah there speed racer, careful not to enter hyperspace.”

He laughs, and the euphoria that floods through you at the sound is already addicting.

Conversation flows easily between your interests and learning his. ‘What do you mean you don’t know Seance Dog?’

Your little spot against the wall starts to feel like a bubble, the sounds around you fading into white noise. Mark’s cool. Fun, silly, and humble. He offers to get you another drink, but you wave it off. The idea of pausing conversation with him for something so trivial feels beyond unnecessary.

“I was actually here for school at the beginning of the semester, but…” he scratches the back of his neck, looking away as the conversation turns more serious. “My dad, we uh… lost him a few months ago. I decided to come home to help my mom. College will always be there, you know?” 

Your brows draw together. “I’m so sorry,” you offer. He shrugs.

“It’s just normal life now. Honestly the thing I miss most about Upstate is the bars.” He leans in closer, his breath tickling your ear as he says, “William is a terrible roommate.”

Before you know it, the better part of two hours have passed. Over that time the two of you have moved exponentially closer together, now standing nearly forehead to forehead to hear each other better (allegedly).

You haven’t had any more alcohol, but you feel drunk on Mark. You’ve known him for all of a few hours and he has you questioning if your ex was a different species altogether. There’s just no way that this guy and that piece of shit share any commonality.

The satisfaction on his face when he makes you smile or finds out something new about you is radiant: it makes you feel seen.

This is how it’s supposed to feel, you think. 

You brush your fingers over one of his forearms and see the hairs stand up in reaction. You giggle when he has the nerve to look embarrassed about it.

“Am I making you nervous?” You ask, teasing. 

“Yes,” he answers immediately. “But I like it.” 

He moves closer, his hand gently resting on your waist. It’s warm through the fabric of your dress, large and steady and makes the blood thrum under your skin. Your lips part, a whine escaping against your will that he should not have been able to hear.

“How about me? Do I make you nervous?” He asks, voice low and just the smallest bit unsure. It makes you melt.

“Nah, you couldn’t hurt a fly.” You reply, heart racing when you shift to wrap your arms around his neck. 

He’s clearly contemplating something internally for several moments, eyes searching yours for some sort of answer. You cock your head to the side.

“What is it?” You ask.

He takes a shallow breath. “I really want to kiss you,” he says. “But I don’t want to mess this up.”

Fuck, he’s perfect.

Without another thought you push onto your toes, bringing your lips up to meet his in a chaste kiss.His mouth tastes like mint toothpaste and something that somehow seems like him.

Sparks blaze through you at the contact, and you haven’t pulled away more than a few centimeters when he’s pulling you back in, pressing his mouth to yours more securely. Claiming.

Mark’s hands dig into your hips, fingerprints pressing hard enough to brand your skin with bruises. You love it.

He’s kissing you like he’s been trying really hard to be respectful this whole time, which you honestly appreciate. You can tell he’s holding back though-  he’s confident, but not pushing, making sure you know you can pull away and stop if you want to.

You absolutely don’t want to.

“I’m not gonna break,” you say when pulling away to catch your breath, looking up at him through your lashes, chest heaving.

Mark’s pupils have consumed most of his irises. Something in the way his grip tightens and his jaw works give the impression that he’s thinking something along the lines of maybe not, but I’d like to try.

You bite the inside of your cheek, want buzzing in the tips of your fingers. You’ve always been responsible, and good, and generally a rule follower; it feels good to push all of that away and take Mark by the wrist, pulling him away from your wall and down a secluded hallway. He doesn’t question you dragging him around the corner and beside a stack of boxes next to the door to the back office. 

You’d stumbled drunkenly down this hallway by mistake enough times already while looking for the bathroom. One time you caught a couple doing exactly what you’re intending to do, so… 

“You look fucking beautiful,” Mark drinks you in again, crowding you up against the wall. You feel his warm breath on your skin when you tilt your head up towards him. “Is this okay?” 

Your heart skips a beat, hands pulling him closer. “You have no fucking idea.”

You moan when his hands move to grab your ass, the tips of his fingers brushing the skin of your thighs just under the hem of your dress. Warm lips trail down your jaw to pepper kisses on your neck in tandem, and all you can do is press yourself harder into his touch. The moment is an assault on the senses, between his hands, his mouth, the cold wall, the muffled thrum of music-

“Fucking Christ,” you choke out, eyes falling shut. Mark huffs a chuckle, hands moving lower until he’s hefting you into his arms.

Mark’s hands are strong under your thighs. His fingertips bite into the skin while he holds you snug against the wall, your legs wrapped around his waist. It’s… incredible. He somehow isn’t shaking at all, like you weigh less than nothing.

His lips are a little chapped moving against yours, but you truly can’t care less about it. Your fingers tangle themselves in his hair, your free hand clutching at his shoulder through his shirt. He’s solid, the amount of muscle clear even through his clothes.

“Fuck-” You breathe against his mouth when you have no choice but to pull back for air- just a smidge. His breath is warm against your mouth, his brown eyes flitting to yours, half-lidded. 

“Yeah.” He says, cheeks turning just a little bit pink. You can feel your own face warming as well, especially when you shift just enough to feel the solid press of his erection against your panties. 

Mark lets out a soft grunt, fingers flexing. “Please know that this is the opposite of how I usually treat women I’m interested in,” he jokes, a half smile lighting his face. You hum in response, pressing a kiss to his cheek, then his temple, then let your lips settle right next to the curve of his ear.

“Tell me, how would you normally treat me?” Teasing is something you’d usually find yourself too anxious to try. You’re always a little afraid of being rejected, but Mark makes it easy to feel bold, especially when he just met you and he’s already looking at you like that. 

He ducks his head with an embarrassed laugh, his forehead falling to rest on your shoulder.

"I would've asked you out first," he admits. "Probably severely fumbled over my words." His thumbs rub circles into the plush of your thighs, sending a thrill through you straight to your core.

“Yeah?” You let your head fall back against the brick, word escaping like a sigh. 

Mark presses a gentle kiss to the bare ball of your shoulder.

“Definitely.” He grinds into you again, “And if I was lucky enough to have you say yes, I’d get you flowers. Bring you somewhere nice for dinner.”

You smile at the dim ceiling, eyes falling closed. “What if I told you I didn’t want to eat anything other than a fresh bowl of pasta from Florence?” You ask, playing with the soft hair in your hands. 

You can feel his voice rumble through your body when his lips shift again, trailing feather-light across your collarbone to the junction of your neck and shoulder. His teeth are sharp against your skin; pinpricks of pain spark up your nerves when he lightly bites down before answering. 

“I could make that happen.” A beat, during which a flash of every time a man had ever made a promise he couldn’t keep washes over your mind. “I’d bring you anywhere you want to go. Help you study for class, if that’s what you need. Dress up in shitty costumes for Halloween and go to haunted houses.”

“I think you might be setting yourself up for failure, Mark Grayson.”

He goes still at that.

You feel his face leave your skin and his body shift to put you down. Your eyes fly open in confusion, hands moving to rest flat on his chest when you’re deposited on your own two feet. He’s looking at you intensely, his head cocked to the side like a puppy. Shit, he has those puppy eyes too.

“C’mon, I’m being serious,” his voice is still low, body still radiating heat that you can feel through the thin material of your dress. One of those big hands brushes a stray lock of hair behind your ear, index finger crooking under your chin to tip your gaze up to meet his afterwards. “If I were lucky enough to have a chance with you, I’d do it right.”

You want to laugh, or do something to break the tension. 

His eyes won’t let you.

“We just met,” You say, but it doesn’t have any humor in it. Just an observation. 

“We did. And if I was actually a good guy, I would’ve just asked for your number.” He looks you up and down, his hand dropping from your face. “But it seems like William managed to set me up with someone worth being bold for.”

Now you snort a laugh, but it’s well received. His smile is like the sun breaking through stormclouds. 

“How about I give you my number,” you start, stepping so your strappy heels are right up to the toes of his converse. You crane your neck to look up at him, looping your arms loosely around his neck. “And we give you a do-over. You can be the perfect gentleman, and jump through all of the hoops. Make me feel like a princess.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but you cut him off. “If you give me a free trial of what I can expect after that. Just for tonight.” His brows shoot up toward his hairline, but the smile creeps back to his lips. Those hands rest on your waist, fingers brushing where the band of your underwear is under your dress.

“I think I can manage that.” You notice that his canines look sharper than any you think you’ve seen before when they flash in the low light.

You push up onto your toes when he stoops down to meet you, lips brushing again. “Now show me what you’re gonna do instead.”

In a flash you’re in his arms again, being carried for a few seconds then deposited through a door that he closes behind him, bathing you both in only the red light of an ‘exit’ sign. It’s a utility closet, filled with dusty boxes of decorations that the bar puts up for holidays and university events.

You push him against the wood, a hand snaking between you to palm at the bulge in his pants. “How did you know this was here?” You ask, emboldened by the low moan you coax from him.

“Fucking Christ- friend works here.” He curses, but presses harder into your hand. 

You feel powerful like this. A hot guy literally under your palm, and he really wants you. And he’s nice, he’s good, he’s-

Mark curses again quietly under his breath and your positions are quickly switched. His mouth is on yours, tongue swiping over your lower lip to ask for entrance. With a sigh you abide him, letting him press into you and claim every inch.

Your hands move, sliding up the back of his shirt and feeling the hard muscle hiding beneath the fabric. 

“You’re killing me in this dress.” His fingers slide up the backs of your legs, pushing the hem up until it’s gathered around your waist and he’s looking down at the black lace of your underwear. You bite down on your lower lip, your nails digging into his skin harshly. It feels like he can see through it somehow; like he knows how fucking soaked he’s got you.

You whine softly at the feeling of his hand ghosting over the waistband, eyes meeting yours to confirm he can go forward. “Please,” 

Finally he’s giving you what your body has been thrumming for. Your head falls back against the door, one of your forearms flying to muffle your cry when he pushes the drenched panties out of the way and glides his fingers through the slick around your entrance, then groans and uses that wetness to press circles into your clit.

Sparks explode behind your eyelids and race down your spine, back arching and nipples tightening to peaks.

“So wet… this all for me?” He whispers right into your ear, making your shiver. 

“All for you.” It’s not worth lying, or playing games. You want him. He knows it, you know it. 

Mark makes a sound of contentment. He uses his feet to knock yours apart more, giving him space to slot himself snugly against you while he keeps exploring, learning what makes you throb for him. 

“You have no goddamn clue how bad I want to rip this off of you,” he continues, a long finger slowly entering you and crooking to find your g-spot. “Wanna kiss you until you can’t talk, eat this pussy until you can’t breathe. Make you come on my face until you fucking can’t anymore.” You clench on his finger, body wound like a goddamn spring. 

“Fuck you open on this cock until you’re screaming.”

More moans, your hands scrambling at his shirt to get it off. “You have a deceptively filthy mouth,” you pant. Another finger slides in, stretching you deliciously. 

“Seems like you’re enjoying it,” he teases. You can’t help but nod in agreement, feeling him hard against your hip. “Tell me,” goading you on.

Your face burns, but you try to comply even though your brain has turned into mush. “Need you so bad,” you breathe out.

“C’mon, you can do better than that.” He withdraws his fingers and you whine at the loss.

“Take your shirt off and I’ll think about it.”

He laughs- a real, full laugh that makes satisfaction fill your entire body. He’s so damn pretty, especially when he does exactly what you ask. The button down falls from his shoulders, then the t-shirt follows suit as Mark pulls it over his head and reveals his muscular torso.

He pushes the dress up higher until he’s feeling all over the smooth skin of your stomach, then switches gears to slide the straps down your arms and pull your breasts free, taking them in as he speaks.

“Making it so hard to decide if I wanna take my time with you now or just fuck you good, save the sweet stuff for next time.” He brings long fingers to his lips, licking them clean of your wetness. “Guess it’ll come down to whether I give you what you want or decide to make you work for it.”

You whine softly at the words, nails digging into the skin of his back when he takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking softly and just barely pressing in with his teeth. His touch around the band of your underwear is driving you so insane that you almost cry in happiness when he pushes them down your legs to pool on the ground, out of the way and forgotten. 

“Please for the love of fuck don’t make me work for it,” You concede when he switches to your other breast, leaving a trail of kisses over your sternum between them. You feel his smile against your skin, his hands kneading the flesh of your ass.

Your whole body feels like it’s on fire- or maybe like it’ll explode if he doesn’t satisfy the need between your legs.

You attempt to communicate this by pushing yourself up against him, attempting to grind against his thigh, or do literally anything to soothe the ache. His mouth detaches from your skin and he draws back up to his full height, a wicked glint in his eye as he looks down at you.

Staring straight back, your hands fall to the button on his pants.

“You sure?” He asks as you pull the zipper down. 

“Very.” He twitches under your palm. “I’m clean, and on birth control,” you add. “I don’t have a condom, so…”

“I’m also clean, and… I also don’t have a condom.” He starts to laugh, but it gets caught in his throat when you reach into his underwear and grasp the hard length of him. 

You run your thumb over the tip, feeling the moisture that’s already built there. He’s fucking massive, and you’re honestly starting to feel out of your league. After a few strokes of your hand, he’s already groaning and taking you by the wrist.

“You want this to be over already?” He jokes, then kisses you again before you can answer.

It’s another one of those claiming kisses- his tongue licking over your bottom lip, then into your mouth. I’m in control, it seems to say. And you don’t have a problem with that at all.

By the time he’s breaking away, you’re already being spun to face the door, your ass pressed against his erection. You can feel the slick on your thighs, and know it’s gonna be all over his pants, but you can’t give even half a fuck when you can feel the head of his cock pressing against your opening, stretching you wide.

Your breath punches out in pants, one of Mark’s hands grasping you by the hip and the other coming around your front to grip at the base of your neck- not squeezing, just holding you in place. You feel yourself being bent over, your pussy bared to him. He kisses your shoulder, muttering sweet words as he eases himself in;

‘There you go, pretty girl. Take it slow.’

‘Feel so good, shit-’

‘You’re being so fucking good. Let me know if I need to slow down, yeah?’

The meanings of the words are hard to distinguish in your current state of absolute bliss. 

By the time you feel the brush of his public hair against you, you’re already drooling. He stills for a moment, presumably to let you catch your breath.

“I really want to make this last, but-” His breath hitches when you flutter around him. “Fuck- this place is closing soon.” You make a noise of assent.

Do your worst, it says.

He gets the message.

Mark’s hands steady on you, and immediately after you can feel the slow slide of his cock as he pulls out halfway, then punches forward again.

Stars explode in your vision at the assault on your senses.

Mark curses behind you, then repeats the motion.

Again and again and again.

He fucks you open like he has something to prove. Somehow he’s hitting every sensitive spot inside your body, the rhythm making you lose yourself in sensation. His body is a warm, solid mass behind you as he takes. 

The door squeaks with every drive of his hips into you, the sound of your skin slapping bouncing off the walls. It’s dirty, it’s depraved, and you’re already obsessed with this man and with the cock that’s destroying your insides.

Your mind is nearly blank. All you can do is hold on for the ride, and try to suppress your moan when the hand that had been pressing bruises into your hip falls to your clit. He rubs tight circles on the nerves again, his hips never once faltering in their cadence.

“Wanna make you come for me,” He pants. “Can feel you getting all tight around my dick, shit-” 

You feel so goddamn full it’s insane. You’ve never been fucked so well in your life, and this is only a quickie. You can’t even fathom how good sex in a real bed with this man might be.

“Mark,” your voice cracks out, bordering on a cry. His hips stutter at the sound of his name falling from your lips.

“Next time I’m gonna have you on your back so I can see your face when you come all over my cock.” he grunts, and you feel your orgasm building far too quickly at the insinuation of there being a next time. His fingers move impossibly faster (the dexterity on this man is insane), the end racing towards you. “See these tits better, too.” The hand around your throat drops to pinch one of your nipples, and you’re done for.

With a cry of his name, you break. Your orgasm washes over you so intensely that your ears start to ring, the assault on your clit not letting up for a second. You can vaguely hear him talking you through it, praising you with sweet nothings, but the words aren’t registering over the euphoria rushing through you.

“Shit-” He moans low, and somewhere in your body you register him pulling out, then the warmth of his come painting the skin of your ass. 

The room is quiet, save for your combined heavy breathing and the muffled music from the bar. His hands let go of you but hover centimeters away, wary of your weak knees.

What a gentleman.

You stand straight, relishing the satisfied soreness between your legs while you drag your dress straps back up. He’s watching you, eyes still dark.

“You’re beautiful,” he says. He picks up his discarded button down, and turns you around one more time, carefully using it to wipe the evidence of his orgasm from your skin. Once he’s satisfied, he squats down to press a kiss to your asscheek, and you giggle as he pulls the hem of your dress back down. 

“Thank you,” You say, bending yourself to shimmy your underwear up your legs while he puts himself back into his pants, then buttons them. When you turn and give him a once over, you can’t help but let out a laugh at the mysterious stain near the crotch. He follows your eyeline, then snorts.

“No, thank you-” T-shirt now in hand, he pulls the clean garment over his head. “So, how was the free trial? Think you’ll give the subscription a go?”

You lean back against the door that he’d just fucked you open against, feigning thought with a finger on your chin like there’s any chance you’d say no. “I think I could be interested,” you say.

—————————————————————————

Anakin is sitting hunched over on the edge of the bed when the door to his room slides open. The floor is cold under your feet, cotton dress swishing around your legs in place of your robes as you walk toward him. 

When his eyes meet yours, you stop in your tracks: the only way to describe him in this moment is haunted. 

You’re frozen in place there, by that blue you know can be gentle and warm. 

“Ani-” You start, voice hoarse in your own ears. The cocktail of emotion swirling in your chest is confusing; a mixture of relief and worry and desire and maybe a little bit of anger-

He’s on his feet in an instant, expression morphing from that odd, unreadable, pained one to a mask of worry. Worry for you.

Anakin crosses the open space between you in two quick strides, one rough palm and one of smooth metal cupping your cheeks. He runs his thumbs over your skin, eyes searching for something on your face that you can’t decipher.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” He asks. The words are almost frantic leaving his lips, your head already shaking as he’s speaking.

“There’s nothing wrong, I’m just worried about you.” 

There’s no way to ignore the way his shoulders droop in relief, breath exiting his mouth in a sigh. You quirk a brow, arms moving to cross over your chest.

“Damn Skywalker, don’t look so surprised-” You let out a small yelp when he cuts you off, pulling you off the ground and into his arms. He’s warm even through his robes. Smells like motor oil and metal and man- “We both wield a lightsaber, you know.” You chuckle into the cook of his neck, the arms around you vicelike. 

His answering hum doesn’t soothe the little knot of anxiety in your chest. 

Your feet meet the floor again, his hands keeping a gentle grip on the muscle of your upper arms. You can feel your face heat as he looks you up and down.

“You’ve got nothin’ to worry about. I’m all in one piece here,” he says. You give a pointed look at his cybernetic hand where it rests on your skin, and don’t miss the roll of his eyes. ”Oh, ha ha.”

He pulls you closer together. Your heart is beating out of your chest, but this isn’t anything new. He’s your Anakin.

The smile on his face slowly melts away as he continues to take you in with marked focus, as if convincing himself that you’re actually real and standing in front of him. A pointer finger travels to brush away a lock of hair that’s escaped your loose braid, tucking it behind your ear.

The words “You’re beautiful,” are whispered against your lips before he fully closes the gap, kissing you with familiar intensity

This man does nothing halfway. He puts all of himself into the press of his mouth to yours, teeth nipping at your bottom lip and tongue claiming you. His flesh hand cups the back of your neck, tangling in the bound hair while the metal one is holding your waist in a vice grip.

Heat courses through your veins, desire an ever present thrum beneath your skin. A low sound rumbles out of his chest that leaves you weak in the knees as he continues to devour and claim.

“Missed you so much,” He whispers when he eventually pulls himself away from you, lips bruised and puffy. His hands are everywhere, relearning the shape of you after several days apart.

“Mmm, you should tell the council to send me with, then.” You tease. He snorts a laugh, pushing you by the hips gently until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the mattress and you land sitting. Anakin towers above you, face partially shrouded in shadow.

Instead of answering, he stoops down to press another chaste kiss to your lips then drops to his knees before you. His eyes glisten, full of mischief and so much need it makes you throb. 

His hands find the hem of your dress, pushing the fabric teasingly up the length of your legs. For all of his impatience in just about every other part of his life, this is unfortunately one of the only areas he likes to take his time at. Mostly because he loves making you squirm.

“Ani-” You try to say it sternly, but it comes out as more of a whine. The twitch of his lips confirms that he read it that way too. He leans forward, giving the exposed skin of your knee little pecks while using his free hand to untie the belt of his robes, letting them fall open to bare the expanse of his chest.

His breath sends goosebumps up and down your leg. “Always rushing me,” he says. You open your mouth to snark back, but end up pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as his fingers push the fabric higher, the warm flesh moving to dig into the skin of your inner thigh. “You know I try to take my time-”

He pushes your legs further apart and slots himself into the gap between, holding them open with his body as you lean back onto your elbows. His hands explore you with confidence, skating up and down your thighs just to work you up. He knows it’s working too; you can tell by the satisfied lilt to his mouth, the creases around his eyes. 

Asshole. 

“You’re just too fucking pretty,” He sighs. A finger moves to skirt the soaked edge of your panties teasingly. “Can’t believe other people get to lay their eyes on you,” His gaze flicks up to yours for just a second, then back down to his hand where that digit is hooking into your underwear to pull it to the side, exposing your cunt to the air of his room. His thumb swipes reverently through the slick there, ending the movement with a swirl around your clit that has you panting. “-but never like this.” He finishes.

He leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to the heated skin, then pulls away just long enough to help pull your dress over your head and throw it somewhere else in the room. You’re left in only your soaked scrap of underwear, breasts heaving with every breath you take. 

Anakin lets the robe fall from his shoulders, the scars on his chest shining in the Coruscant lights that stream through the window. 

His mouth explores the expanse of your torso, satisfied little moans escaping him as he travels over the soft swell of your stomach, the compact muscle of your obliques, the supple peaks of your tits.

Gasping, your nails fly to dig into the muscle of his upper back when he sucks a nipple between his lips, circling it with the tip of his tongue until he decides to press his teeth in, just how you like. You arch into the feeling, and your head falls back when his fingers find their way again to where your body begs to be filled, the little bit of fabric acting as no barrier at all.

Fingertips tease at your entrance, your hips moving to try to goad him in and give you what you want.  

“Can’t ever let me play, can you?” The words are near a hiss against your skin. “So gorgeous and wet and yet you just want me to get you off right away-” He plunges a finger inside in one move, your eyes going wide and a cry breaking free of your throat at the motion. “I thought Jedi were supposed to be disciplined,” he teases.

“You’re… one to talk.” You force out the words, trying hard to keep your composure as he presses against the spot inside you he knows makes you melt.

He adds a finger. “Well everyone already knows that I’m a bad Jedi,” his voice is like syrup sliding over your limps, thumb stroking your clit in time with the curling motions of his middle and pointer. “But you, you’re perfect.”

Despite the pleasure assaulting you, a frown meets your lips. You push back up onto your elbows to look down at him, absolutely mesmerized watching as his fingers disappear inside of you. “No one thinks you’re a bad Jedi.” You say. He just scoffs.

“Well, I’m a selfish one at the very least.” His smile glints for one second, your body suddenly empty, then his mouth is on you. Somehow you can’t remember what you were so worried about anymore.

Sensations crash together in the most incredible, most overwhelming way. You’re flat on your back now, Anakin holding your legs open and out of the way with secure hands on the backs of your thighs, knees in the air. 

He doesn’t care what he looks like, what it sounds like, the absolute mess he’s making of the duvet below you. His tongue runs in flat, hard stripes from your entrance to the top of your clit, pausing every few strokes to suck on the little bud or tease hickeys onto the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

You know he’s playing with you, but you also know that you fucking love it. 

Your fingers disappear into his wild hair when you’re drawing close, using it as an anchor. You pull his willing mouth until it’s positioned just so, satisfied groans rumbling through him and onto your flesh at every tug.

Orgasm building, your brain turns to mush. The grip on your thighs tightens every time your hips cant into the pleasure his mouth provides, keeping you still, making you take it. 

“Anakin-” You gasp between clenched teeth, frustrated tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You’re so fucking close- 

He pulls away, and all of the tension that had been building in your body collapses. 

If you had the ability, you would’ve smacked him: unfortunately for you, you’re just about boneless on the mattress. “You’re evil.” 

You can’t see the look that crosses his face, but it doesn’t matter because you can hear the rustle of his clothes hitting the floor, and the heat of the head of his cock against you.

The bed dips on either side of your head, and when you crack your eyes open he’s leading above you, caging you in. His weight rests on his elbows.

“Put your legs around my waist.” He orders, and you obey with a grumble.

“I’m not gonna break-” you complain. He’s rocking against you, grinding the hard ridge of his cock into the needy wetness between you. 

“You don’t know that.” He replies. It’s a little… sharp.

Anakin shifts his weight, leaning fully on one elbow so that he can grip your ass with his cybernetic hand. He gives you a light spank, the pinprick pain making you moan and clench around nothing.

You wind your hands around his neck, urging him closer, wanting to feel his skin against yours. It’s soft and warm, and even better when you can sink your teeth into it.

“Fuck-” He growls out at the sensation. He adjusts himself, stopping his grinding to position his tip at your entrance and you think finally- 

But he just barely pushes himself inside before he’s stopping. You huff and try to push yourself further onto him, needing the fill and the stretch, but he pulls away again. 

“Anakin Skywalker I swear to fuck if you don’t-”

In a flash you’re no longer on your back, but on your knees in the middle of the bed with your chest pressed into the blanket, Anakin’s massive kneeling body looming behind you. He holds your arms behind you at your lower back, and somehow he’s gotten complete control.

“What were you saying, hm?” He says, pressing a kiss to your left asscheek. Your face burns feeling the way you’re dripping, presented to him. “I have to keep you from rushing, or you’ll hurt yourself.” 

Before you can unpack what he means by that, he’s pushing his cock back in, barely giving you more than the head. He holds you in place by the hip with his free hand when you try unsuccessfully to push backwards and take more of him.

“Just wanna take care of you-” he grits out, pressing in just a little bit more. It’s so slow that it’s torturous.

“Then you should fuck me,” you beg. There must be a puddle forming below you. His slow motion stutters for just a moment, his length punching in a little deeper with a satisfying burn that makes your eyes roll back before he composes himself again. His grip on your wrists tightens.

“I don’t wanna hurt you.” He says it like he’s trying to be casual, but there’s something beneath it that feels wrong. And maybe you can’t help but think that it’s been a long fucking week and maybe you want him to hurt you a little bit.

“You can’t hurt me,” You say, voice bordering on a sob. “Satisfy me. Fuck me open, mark me, just do something-”

His resolve snaps along with his hips forward into you, a shriek falling from your lips and bouncing off the walls. You clench around Anakin’s cock as it throbs inside you, filling you to the brim. He moans low, smoothing his metal hand over your ass to soothe you, get you to relax around him.

“I wish I never had to leave this room with you,” He says, staying still for longer than necessary. “Nothing to fight; my only job making you come for me and protecting you.” You start to fidget a little bit, your walls fluttering around him.

Finally, he fully gives in.

The first few thrusts are slow, testing. There’s something small at the back of your head that says he’s never been like this, but you’re being fucked too good to hear it.

He lets go of your wrists with a direct order to keep them where he’d left them. He let both of his hands sink into the flesh of your hips, one of his knees moving him into a half-kneel for better leverage. You drool onto the duvet with every rough slap of his hips, every so often his balls will tap against your clit and stars will burst behind your eyelids.

The sound is nothing short of obscene- wet smacks and moans and grunts, and fuck, the things leaving Anakin’s mouth shouldn’t even be in a Jedi knight’s vocabulary.

“Take my fucking cock, there you go. So pretty.”

“Watching your pussy swallow me never gets old,”

“I must be the luckiest man in the galaxy, can’t believe I’ve got this cunt drooling all over me.”

“Wanna keep you here, safe. Fuck-“

“Never let the Order use you again. Secure, hidden-“

His words cut through the haze on your mind like an icy knife, confusing the hell out of your heated body. You can’t see the look on his face, but you can feel it: that crazed expression of desperation he usually reserved for after waking up from a nightmare.

His cybernetic hand rakes up your back from where it had been gripping the flesh of your hip. The warm metal still leaves a chill in its wake, a shiver wracking through you. 

“I wanna make you come all over me.” He says. “You gonna let me?” He asks, but you know it’s not a question from the way he’s pounding into you, his fingers finding their way to your clit and pressing into it, rubbing tight little circles that make electricity zip through your veins.

“Yes!” You cry, and none of what happens next is voluntary.

Your body seizes as sensation takes over, mashing through you in a wave of bliss. Your limbs turn to water, and Anakin’s hands are the only things holding you aloft as he chases his own release and finds it with a grunt, pulling your back flush to his heaving chest, pressing reverent kisses to your sweaty skin.

“I love you,” he says. The words are like an electric shock.

You pull away from him gently, not missing the way his hands barely let you go. Your limbs still buzzing, you sit against the pillows, looking at him. He’s beautiful, but you can’t deny that he’s acting more wrong than usual. Falling down a spiral of weird possessiveness that you do not like.

“Tell me. What the hell has been going on with you?”

His eyes turn dull- you’re watching him rebuild his walls in real time.

“I don’t know what-“

“Bullshit.” 

The glare you fix on him is harsh, and you know it. It’s hard to keep serious when evidence of your release is on his mouth, sweat still drying on your naked bodies.

It’s there though- a crack in his armor that you’d been working to widen. His chest rises and falls, the sheets fisted in his hands, the crease between his brows a chasm. 

And then, like a geode, he’s split open.

“I’ve been… having these dreams.” He pauses, collecting his thoughts. You just stay quiet, watching. “Nightmares.” The correction comes soon after.

His eyes find yours, dark.

“You die. And it’s my fault, every time.”

You can’t help the pit that forms in your stomach, but try your damndest to not let it show on your face. It can’t be a good sign when the Chosen One is having premonitions about your death, but…

His skin is warm and a little sweat-sticky when you gently lay your palm on his thigh.

“How can I help you? Are you injured?” Your concerned voice drew his attention while she finished the last of Bodhi’s stitches, reaching now for a roll of gauze and some disinfectant, eyes fixed now on Xaden. He shook his head slowly.

“Garrick. He needs some burn salve.” Xaden said, straight to the point. He moved to lean against the nearby wall, arms crossed over his broad chest as he observed. Bodhi’s calculating eyes followed, picking up on the unusual behavior. You either didn’t care or didn’t notice, nodding to yourself while pressing the gauze to skin. Bodhi hissed at the pressure, your expression and attention shifting at the sound.

“I’m so sorry, are you okay? I should’ve warned you that I was going to-”

“I’m fine! Don’t stop, it’s alright.” Bodhi cut off your panic, placing a hand on your shoulder to soothe you, which earned him a sweet smile. “If I had known getting stitched up came with this kind of attention, I’d have thrown myself at Violet sooner.” You laughed, and Xaden saw red.

“If I don’t wrap it thoroughly, it’s just going to swell.” You said in way of another apology. Bodhi threw a look in Xaden’s direction.

“Too late for that, I think.” He quipped. Xaden tensed, eyes narrowed while you used medical tape to finish securing the covering on his skin.

“Okay, and…” You cut the wrapping, throwing the remainder into a hazardous waste basket, then leaned back. “Done!” You rolled back on your stool, right into the space in front of Bodhi’s waist as the other man stood- close enough that Xaden’s throat went dry. You didn’t notice. But he did. Every damn detail.

As Bodhi began to thank you, buttoning his pants and easing on his shirt, Xaden interrupted smoothly. “Would you mind bringing Garrick the salve on your way out? He’s upstairs.” You gave him a look.

“Are you really giving my freshly injured patient an errand?” You questioned, exasperated. Xaden’s jaw ticked.

“Yeah, I am.” He said shortly. You scoffed, rolling your eyes while turning to clean up the instruments on your tray.

“Commandant Riorson strikes again.” You said under your breath. Bodhi tried (and failed) to mask his laugh with a cough that made him flinch.

“You say that like it’s an insult,” Xaden muttered.

“It is,” you shot back, but your smirk softened the words. You bit the inside of your cheek, turning to your patient. “Bodhi, don’t listen to him. Just go up to your room and rest up. And tell Violet that if she keeps being liberal with those daggers, we’re going to have words.” Xaden left his post leaning against the wall to approach his cousin.

“The healer at the front told me there was a vial of it in that cabinet.” He reached past you, crowding your space as he opened the door, and you didn’t move away as he found the small glass container and thrust it into Bodhi’s chest, the younger bringing his hands up to clutch it. “Just bring him the fucking salve.” He said. Bodhi looked like he wanted to argue, but instead just pressed his lips into a line, nodded, the door clicking shut behind him when he left.

Silence stretched for a beat between you, the only sound the clinking of metal on the tray as you stood next to the counter.

“You know, if you wanted my attention, there are easier ways than glaring holes through my patients,” you murmured, breaking the tense stillness. Xaden exhaled heavily.

“You think that’s what this is?” When he spoke, his voice was low, dangerous.

You met his eyes. “I think you’re jealous.” He said nothing. But he didn’t deny it. A slow smile bloomed on your lips. “Malek, you are!” You exclaimed. Shadows began to twine up his arms, writhing in response to his emotions.

“And so what if I am?” He stepped closer, eyes dark. Your smile faltered, only for a split second as you craned your neck to look up at him. “So what if I want to skin Bodhi alive for letting your hands touch him? So what if I want to blind every cadet who's seen you on your knees, stitching them up?”

“Xaden-”

“Maybe I want you to be mine. My healer, my woman. Maybe I don’t want to share you.” He continued, a hand reaching out to brush stray strands of hair off of your cheek. You sucked in a breath, heart racing. “I haven’t wanted to share you since the first time you patched me up after RSC.” He confessed, voice flowing over you like an ocean current leaving goosebumps in its wake. “Watching you with anyone is like a punch to the fucking gut. But watching you with Bodhi…” He huffed a laugh, hand pushing through his hair. “I never want to see you that close to another man’s dick ever again.”

A blush rose to paint your cheeks a splotchy red, but you didn’t look away from him. “So you only want to see me that close to your dick, then.” You challenged. Xaden looked you in the eye for a beat, then the next one his lips were on yours.

You gasped into the warmth of his mouth, surprise and a rush of want overriding your nervous system and reflexes. One moment you were standing across the room from a man whose imposing presence had become central to your life- whose buttons you lived to press, whose temper you longed to push- and the next your back was firmly against the door to the small exam room. Xaden dwarfed you, his one hand around the nape of your neck cradling the back of your head, the other falling down your body to palm at your ass. You really owed Violet and Bodhi for this one.

“Fuck, I’ve been waiting for this.” Xaden breathed the words onto your parted lips. Your eyes were glazed and half lidded, his mouth dragging down the exposed column of your throat. He left little nips and bite marks in his wake, the urge to claim you taking over any rational thought. He was too fucking wound up to be rational.

Your fingers scrambled for purchase over his shoulders when he let go of your head in favor of hiking you up by the thighs, your legs wrapping instinctually around his waist. He pressed his hardness into your core, the pressure sending sparks shooting up your spine.

“Fuck, Xaden-” The words were a guttural moan, the feeling like nothing you’d ever experienced. His fingers were digging into your thighs, roughly enough to bruise. He smelled like sweat and blood and man, just like he always did when you got close to him. You couldn’t help it- you ground yourself onto him again, earning a low grunt from those plush lips.

You were pulled from the wall so quickly that it was a little bit disorienting, Xaden taking the handful of steps needed to deposit you on the second small bed occupying the exam room. You let out a breathy laugh while his hands roamed your sides, then reached to cup your breasts. “What’s wrong? Don’t want to fuck me where I just had my hands all over Bodhi?” He froze for a moment, chest heaving. A bolt of anxiety zapped through you- had you gone too far?

You opened your mouth to backtrack, but were hoisted back into his arms and deposited onto the bed Bodhi had been occupying before you could speak. It seemed to goad Xaden on, in some way. Like he was marking his territory.

“Need me so badly that you can’t even spare the time to clean up the bay.” He spread your thighs to kneel between them, your back propped up on the untouched pillow. Fingers flexing where they rested on your bent knees, his expression was nothing short of starved. He leaned forward, pressing his mouth to yours in a way that could be described in no way other than claiming. “Don’t talk about another man when I’m between your legs.” He said, pulling back. You bit your lip in response, sitting up further to tug at the waistband of his pants.

“Don’t give me a reason to.” You teased, and he absolutely lost it.

In a storm of lips and teeth and shadow caressing your now bare skin, you seemingly instantly found yourself on your back, legs thrown over Xaden’s shoulders as he devoured you. Your hands tugged roughly at his hair, eyes screwed shut as noises of want escaped your lips. He fucking groaned into your cunt, a sound full of raw satisfaction. Like he’d been waiting for this moment for years.

His movements were confident, tongue pressing in different ways and with different levels of pressure, learning quickly from your reactions what felt good vs what felt fucking devastating. His teeth nipped harshly at the skin of your inner thighs, leaving bruises that would mar your skin for days after. One hand trailed from its place on your hip to join his lips on your pussy, pointer finger gingerly testing your reaction to him pressure on your swollen clit. You jerked in response, a hand flying to your mouth to staunch the moan that was dragged up your throat. You felt him smile against you.

His mouth still attacking with the same level of fervor, that finger found its way to your entrance.

Xaden’s shoulders would be covered in red scratch marks after this- the hazy thought floated through your mind and then back out into oblivion as he pressed into you, the gentleness almost jarring. You made a wanton noise, finger unmoving as he detached from your clit.

“Not gonna talk about anyone else, hm?” He teased, free fingers caressing down your thigh to end in a harsh squeeze. You panted roughly, attempting to rock onto his hand.

“Never.” You whispered, voice shaky. He took his hands off of you, any protest dying in your mouth when he pulled his loose shirt over his head and resumed his position, chest heaving and shimmering with sweat. Fuck, you loved his body. You loved his biceps, the cut of his stomach, the curve of his collarbones; even the bulge of his obliques and the bump of his Adam’s apple. The man was perfect.

This time, two fingers pressed into you and began to move in a steady cadence, Xaden having adjusted to climb up your body to kiss you whilst his hand worked you open, thumb on your clit. You clenched down, biting his lip accidentally as you tensed, tasting the copper of his blood. He pulled away to rest his forehead against yours, feeling you on the precipice.

“I thought healers were supposed to do no harm?” The question was whispered directly into your ear, the words breaking you apart. You came on his fingers, body dissolving into a buzzing feeling of satisfaction that you knew you would never be able to emulate.

His hand slowed until he pulled away, bringing two glistening fingers to his mouth, looking you in the eye as he sat back onto his haunches to lick them clean in the most erotic show you’d ever seen. The bulge in his pants was straining painfully, but he didn’t mind it. He was satisfied knowing that you were both satisfied, and hopefully ruined for any other man. As your heart rate slowed and you came back into your body, the reality of what had just happened hit you.

“I think I’ll have to treat Garrick’s burn myself, if this is the reward I get.” You tease breathlessly. He gives you a look.

“Couldn’t even last ten minutes into your promise.” He said, shaking his head with the ghost of a smile. You grinned at him.