These are a few of my fav things

He blacked out for just a second and when he came to, he was lying on his back, staring up at the cold white lights of the ice rink. His cheek burned and he could feel something trickle down his chest but that did not matter because today was the day he’d tell you he loved you.

The crowd was booing and the grin still did not leave his face.

“You okay there, Vizsla?” Berenson’s face appeared above him, peering down at him with grave concern, “You’re bleeding all over the ice.”

“Never been better,” he answered truthfully, “Now help me up, we got a game to win.”

“I don’t think there’s a we anymore,” Kaida, the team’s physician showed up next to him, “You are going to get your things and get some stitches for that cut. No more playing for you today.”

Under normal circumstanced he’d fight her decision. He would grumble and beg and argue that a little blood would only make him play harder and he had a score to settle. But today’s priority was to get the game over with as fast and as smoothly as possible and if that meant him being off the ice? He could handle that.

All it had taken was one night.

One night of getting to hold you, touch you, hear your deep breaths in the darkness and get to bury his nose in the crook of your neck, and he knew there was no going back for him. He had half-expected that this evening of letting himself be close to you would somehow reveal to him that his emotions weren’t as intense as he feared, that he could be normal about you.

But he had quickly learned that there was nothing normal about you. You were the warm sunshine on a cold Hoth day and the thought of you crying, of him being the reason for it, made a hand clench around his heart so tight, he might as well drop dead before hurting you.

“Vizsla, I need you to stay still,” Kaida order him with a hand on his shoulder, “Stars what is up with you? You’re worse than my kid on a birthday morning.”

“Sorry,” he grinned, “I got places to be and someone to look pretty for.”

The dark-haired woman laughed and he perked up when Joe, one of the team’s assistants, walked in, holding his bag from the locker room. Moments later, his phone rang and although the number was unknown, he knew exactly who it was.

“Tell me you are alright,” your voice rang out the second he accepted the call, “Paz, please tell me.”

“Worried for me?” he teased you.

“That looked bad,” you brought out, “There was blood.”

“There still is,” Paz replied easily, tilting his head to Kaida could put one of the butterfly bandages over the cut, “But, I’m fine, omega.”

“You promise?” he hated how small you sounded, still groggy, and in his mind’s eye, you were still in bed, still wrapped in the blankets that smelled like him while you watched the game on the TV. While you watched him.

“I promise,” his softened his voice, “Would it make you feel better if I paid you another visit tonight.”

A gasp on the other end of the line had his cock twitch. He wanted nothing more than to be back in bed with you and hold you just like he had done tonight. “But Chants said you’re supposed to fly back tonight,” you said, “Could you even visit me then?”

“About that …” he rubbed the back of his neck, trying his hardest to ignore the amused grin Dr Kaida sent his way, “I have a proposition.”

*

When Chants had texted you that he and Din would stay another few days at the resort because the team was supposed to fly back home right after the game, your first thought had been I thought he would come back to me.

What had not occurred to you was that the very same night, you would make your way onto a plane because “Din is staying a bit longer and so there is a seat open for you, if you want it, sweetheart.”

You were greeted by a very grumpy looking Coach Fett. The Mandalorian Minotaurs had ended up winning the game 5-1 but somehow the older man still looked as if he was ready to throw punches with the refs. It was even more intimidating when he mustered you up and down, “How are you doing, kid?”

“Better, thank you.” And that was the truth. Your pre-heat symptoms had faded around lunch time and you knew that it afforded you at least two weeks of peace before your full-on heat hit. You would have to take a look at your calendar when you were home to make sure you could shift some plans to afford you a few days in your nest.

Thank the stars your travel plans had changed. It was nice not having to take the several-hour train journey and instead just a two-hour flight. It was even nicer because Paz Vizsla was standing at the very end of the aisle, pushing a bag into the overhead compartment. Your eyes drifted over his arms, taking in his thick bicep, the tattoos on his forearms and remembering how that very arm had been slung around your waist just last night.

A strange mix of confidence and nervousness filled you as you approached him. There had to be a reason he had asked you to join him on the plane and you were 95% sure it wasn’t because he wanted to reject you. He wouldn’t be that cruel.

So was this finally the moment you got to clear the air?

Paz must have spotted you out of the corner of his eye because he turned to you with a smile on his face. The strong line of his jaw was interrupted by a bandage and you winced. The worry you had felt when you had seen him take a fall on live television returned but Paz did not seem to notice it, instead he reached out his hand. You handed him your suitcase without a second thought, allowing yourself to admire his strong arms as he hefted it into the overhead compartment.

“Wanna have the window seat, love?”

“Yes, please.”

He took a seat right to you. The plane offered two seats on each side of the aisle, meaning that his bulk blocked you in, cutting you off from the excited chatter of the team around you. His right leg stretched out into the aisle and you sank into the soft seat, feeling safe and tucked away.

“How are you feeling?”

“I should be asking you that.”

“It’s just a scratch,” he shrugged, “I’ve had far worse.”

That didn’t make you feel better. You reached out, your hand softly cupping his bruised cheek. You did not like seeing him hurt but how could you say that to a man whose job was so physical? Paz’s eyes fluttered shut and he tilted his face into your palm, almost like a cat. Your thumb traced the bandage over his jaw, resisting the urge to press a kiss right there.

“I’m okay, omega,” his took your hand in his, settling it in his lap, “I promise.”

He kept his hold on your hand for the entirety of take-off. Once you had reached the travel altitude, the team members around you moved out of their seats. You frowned, watching as Berenson threw you a wink before making his way to the front of the plane with all the others.

Only Paz remained seated, your hand in his, and did not make any move to join his colleagues.

“Do you need to go too?” you asked him.

Paz just shook his head. “Coach called a post-game meeting but we agreed that I would have one-on-one later with him.”

“Oh, I see.”

Which meant you were all alone. No one was around you to listen in. And judging from the serious look on his face and the way his whole body turned towards you, that was exactly what he wanted.

“You said Chants told you about my parents.”

You nodded, gripping his hand tighter. “He did.”

“I … feel like maybe the dinner was a missed chance for me to clear the air,” he cleared his throat, “And I was hoping maybe I could take the time now to say something that I should have said much earlier.”

Your heart started to race again. This is it. This is it. This is it.

“My father was – is – a very talented man and for a long time, he was my icon. He pushed me to follow my dream of hockey and I will never forget how he took me to get my first second pair of skates. He was so proud, telling everyone in the store that I was going to be the next Boba Fett.” He paused, his teeth digging into his bottom lip and his eyes glazed over, like he was somewhere completely different. “He was also a very angry man. I didn’t notice it at first because I was so eager to make him proud that I often thought his anger was justified … but it was not. It took me a long time to realize that my mother was a very angry woman too. I can’t pretend to know what their relationship was like but I know she wasn’t treated the way she should have been treated and I think that, towards the end, she saw a lot of my father in me. The last words she said to me were the exact same words she said to my father. That I should never attempt to find an omega because all I would do was …” he swallowed harshly, “hurt them.”

“Paz …”

You wanted to say so much. You wanted to tell him that he wouldn’t hurt you, not again. That you could only imagine the hurt he must have felt as a child. Stars, you wanted to hug him.

The dark-haired man smiled slightly and shook his head. “I am not finished yet, love.”

A quick nod of yours later, your hands were in his lap again, entwining your fingers. He started playing with your hand, not meeting your gaze. You could feel the callouses on his fingertips as he started to trace the lines on your palm. His touch calmed you down and you got the impression that it rooted him as well.

“I carried my mother’s words with me for a long time. Longer than I should have, really. I – Din got me a place at a therapist just a few years agoand I worked through a lot of stuff regarding my father. You know, anger management, talking about feelings, admitting failure … all that jazz,” he shot you a dry smile, “I didn’t realize that I hadn’t worked through what my mother told me until I met you.”

His touch on your palm stopped and you froze.

“I can still see it,” his lips quirked up, “That game was a shitshow and all I wanted was to go home. And then Din called me over and I spotted you … the world froze. I saw you and I smelled you and I realized, I realized you were … you. You were to me what I was always so terrified of.” He lifted your hand to his lips and you watched with baited breath as he pressed a kiss on the back of your hand, “and instead of pulling you to me and scent you for all the world to see like I wanted to, I – I lashed out. I thought you would be safer and happier without me and I needed to just … nip it in the bud before you could see who you were to me.”

His words washed over you like warm honeyed tea and you savoured each and every word that left him. All this time you had thought that he didn’t reciprocate your feelings. That he just saw you as an annoying acquaintance that couldn’t control her crush on him when he was around. But now – hearing the truth – it became clear that his parents had hurt two people. Him and you.

“it was already too late by then,” you murmured, shifting as close to him as you could. The arm rest dug into your hip and Paz pushed it back, spreading his legs until he could drag you onto his thigh, pulling you into his lap. “It was too late,” you repeated against his cheek, “The moment I saw you I knew, I just wasn’t sure if you … I thought you didn’t feel it.”

“I am so so sorry, omega,” he rumbled, holding you even closer, “I hurt you and I should not have. I will spend my life making it up to you if you let me.”

It felt so surreal, Paz admitting that he had felt the same things at your first meeting. That he knew who you were to him, who he was to you. This could be a fresh start, one that you had been dreaming about and one that, from the feeling of his hands on your hips, you were already in.

“That sounds intriguing,” you teased him, brushing your lips over his jaw, “Tell me more.”

His hands gripped your hips tighter, pulling you against him until you had no choice but to wrap your arms around him. It put your face right in the crook of his neck and you took a deep breath.

“I want to take you out on a date,” he whispered in your ear, “I want to see you cheering for me in the stands and know that I was the one who invited you to the game. I want to take you ice skating and hold your hand the entire time. I want to be the one you come home to after work and tell me about your day. I want …” he sighed, “I want everything. And that scares me because I don’t know if I can ever be the type of man you want or deserve.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” you smiled at him, running the tip of your nose over his stubbly cheek and feeling like your heart was getting fuller by the minute, “There is no type of man that I want. I just want you.”

One large hand cupped the back of your neck, holding you in place so your foreheads touched. “You have no idea how happy you make me,” he whispered in the quiet space between your mouths.

You could not help yourself, rocking forward until your lips brushed his just for a brief moment. It was just to see, just to test the waters, you hadn’t been ready for the fireworks exploding in your chest, or his hand pulling you back against him for another kiss.

Where the first one had been brief and soft, the second was still gentle but much deeper. Goosebumps ran down your back as his mouth moved against yours, coaxing you open for him. Your hand flew to his chest, feeling his heart beat strong and fast under your palm, matching your own. His tongue brushed over your bottom lip and you squeezed your thighs, hot desire running through your veins.

“Come to my game next weekend,” he murmured against you, “I will get you the best seats in the house, whatever you want. I want to see you again, omega. Give me a chance to woo you.”

He didn’t have to ask you twice.

*

Playing for you again.

You smiled at your phone, the text message Paz had sent you just a few hours before still making your heart race as if you were about to meet him for the first time again. The game had been a rowdy affair again but you could not remember the last time you had so much fun. Paz had spotted you immediately, sending you a wink every time he skated past where you and Chants were sitting. He had not missed it once in the entire game and you could feel your cheeks burn from the cold and how much you had cheered for him.

Now you were standing in the hallway, watching player after player leave the locker room and make their way home.

“Vizsla is waiting for you inside,” Din told you, a knowing grin on his face, before greeting his fiancée with a kiss, “Better say hi.”

Better say hi, indeed.

The locker room was empty, though the evidence of its recent occupancy was clear in the humidity of the showers and the stench of all kinds of people mixing in the air. But you could not care about that when you saw your alpha leaning against the wall, freshly showered, with no shirt on.

“You’re wearing my jersey,” he greeted you, drying his hands on a towel. Water droplets were collecting at the end of his curls and his gaze was positively smouldering.

Your fingers played with the hem of the Vizsla jersey you had splurged on in the merch shop. It had taken only a bit of courage to actually make the purchase and Chants’ cheer when you had showed up in the dark blue and white shirt had convinced you to keep wearing it.

Paz’s dark eyes roaming over your body felt like a reward.

“Looks like I am.”

He pushed off the wall, slowly walking towards you. “Makes you look like you’re mine.”

Feeling like very voluntary prey under his gaze, you took a few steps back. “I’ve heard worse things.”

Paz did not stop his approach, forcing you backwards until you ended up against the cold metal of the locker. His proximity gave you a front row seat to the sight of his broad chest, the muscles hiding under a layer of fat and – a very familiar chain around his neck.

“That’s … mine,” you whispered, reaching up to play with the golden band hanging around his neck, “I got you that.”

“I didn’t take it off,” his voice was rough just before he ducked down to kiss you, “Not even once.”

The kiss was hotter than anything you could have dreamed about. His teeth on your bottom lip had you wrap your arms around him and it did not take long before his hand was on your thigh, lifting your leg around his waist. His kisses continued, making your breathless until all you could see, think, smell, feel was him.

Paz Vizsla had kept your chain. He had kept something you had given him before everything else had happened and it made your heart like it was flying out of your chest.

Opening your mouth for him had his tongue slip against yours and you gasped, wanting him closer. You could feel him, hard and heavy, against the apex of your thighs and you shivered with need. He was big, you had suspected as much, but feeling it for yourself had something short-circuit in your brain. You didn’t want to be wooed anymore.

Or maybe you did want to be wooed. But you also wanted to be fucked.

Your hips bucked, seeking the friction your clit so desperately ached for, but he pressed himself closer, grinding his erection against you and pinning you in place in the process. “I won’t fuck you here,” he rumbled while pressing his hips against yours, “I want to have you in my bed, ‘mega, somewhere soft, where I can take my time, where I can knot you and know you’ll sleep comfortably.”

“You can knot me here,” you breathed against his mouth before diving in for another kiss. Your fingers tangled in the soft hair at the nape of his neck and he growled – actually growled. The sound made your pussy clench and you tugged at his hair, being immediately rewarded with a snap of his hips.

“Not here,” he said, more to himself than to you, “Not when I am so out of control.”

“You’d never hurt me, Paz,” you assured him, cupping his cheek, “Never.”

He sighed against you and you could feel his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. You loved to see how affected he was by this, by you.

“I know,” he said, resting his forehead against yours, “I just – don’t want to risk it. Can’t risk it yet, love, not when it’s you.”

You nodded, looking in his eyes and trying to convey the trust you felt in him. He kissed you again, instead, slow and deep, and the feeling of him against you, unwilling to let you go, only made the wetness between your legs grow.

“You make me want to do crazy things,” you admitted in a whisper, “Please, I just need –“

He chuckled darkly, setting you down but not letting you go. Paz’s hands slipped under your jersey and you arched your back, loving the feeling of his dry hands against your skin. Everywhere he touched left a fire of want behind.

“I know you’d let me take you right here where anyone could walk in,” his hands came up to cup you through your bra, his thumb rubbing over your nipples through the lace,” and one day I just might have to show everyone how gorgeous you are for me. But today’s not that day. And tomorrow won’t be either.”

His fingers rolled your peaked nipples and you mewled, trying to rub against him again. A jeans-clad thigh slipped between your legs, raising you up and you gasped, standing up on your tiptoes while also grinding down against him.

“Now that I think about it I might never want to share you,” his nose brushed over your scent gland and your core tightened again, “Not if you’re this responsive for me, omega.”

Pleasure coursed through you and when the seam of your jeans caught on your clit just so, you could not help the outright moan that left you. “Paz, what if – oh stars, what if someone comes in?”

“Then I am very sorry to end their career early,” he pressed a kiss to your temple, “Because the only one who gets to see my omega come is me. Do you understand that, love? Tell me you understand.”

You could only bring out a jerky nod, your hip movements picking up. You felt hot all over, slippery, somehow, but Paz’s grip on you didn’t loosen.

“There we go,” Paz tugged on your nipples, the pleasurable pain shooting down your spine, “Come for me, love, come right on my thigh so I can carry your scent with me everywhere I go. C’mon, be a good omega for me.”

His thigh lifted, raising you off the ground, your entire weight resting on him and on the place where you were chasing your climax. And when his fingers pinched you, his teeth grazing over that sensitive patch of skin on your neck and his scent rose in your nose, you had no choice but fall over the cliff.

“Fuck!” you breathed out, your walls clenching around nothing as you rode on his thigh.

Paz laughed, happy and deep, “Good girl, coming apart so beautifully for me. Ride it out for me, sweetheart, let me see how good you feel, hm?”

Your head feel back against the metal door of the locker, your body bowing for him, arching into his touch. His fingers brushed over your chest, down your sides, caressing you through the after waves.

“Beautiful,” he whispered against you, kissing you softly before slipping his hands from under the jersey, “Now how about dinner?”

*

So there’s one thing I wanted to talk to you about

Do you want me to call? We’re just boarding now, I can find a quiet place.

No, it’s not that important

Everything you tell me is important.

Charmer

I am trying.

What did you want to talk about then?

My heat is coming. I know you said you wanted to woo me the old-fashioned way but I have been thinking and I want to spend my heat with you.

… Paz?

Do you have any idea how hard it is to hide a boner on a plane? Fuck, mega,

Don’t make me squirm

I am not. I am thinking about how to make you come, omega.

I take it you’re not insisting on dinner tonight, then?

Dinner’s cancelled, sweetheart, I want you waiting in my bed when I come home

*

“Fuck, I missed you,” Paz’s lips peppered kissed over your shoulder and you giggled when his stubble brushed over your sensitive neck, “This is exactly what I wanted to come home to.”

“A needy omega waiting in your bed?”

“No,” his hand gripped your chin, making you look at him, “You.”

He had come home just a few minutes after you had stumbled into his apartment – an apartment he had given you the key to after your second official date. Your heart still skipped a beat when you remembered how he had slid it across the table and told you “You will always have a home with me, ‘mega. It is important to me that you know that.”

Which is why it was so much more fun to lie in bed, waiting for him in your underwear while you were surrounded by the softest and most comfortable blankets and pillows. Paz’s entire bedroom was painted and styled in dark blue. The monochrome look was so him (a statement he had chuckled at when you had first told him) but it was also dark and moody, making you feel like you were shut off from the hectic of the outside world.

Now he was above you, wearing nothing but the most sinful looking grey sweatpants that did nothing to hide the growing bulge between his legs. The sight made you squirm, your skin feeling hot with want.

You had already started to feel feverish but your fidgeting was not connected to any doubts or fear. For the first time in your life you had someone who you felt safe enough to spend your heat with, someone you wanted to spend your heat with.

His eyes were soft and warm, looking at you so earnestly it made your heart and pussy melt.

“I missed you,” he repeated, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose before his hands unclipped your bra, freeing you up for his gaze. His hands were rough and warm when he cupped your breasts, his thumbs circling your hardened nipples. Electricity shot through your entire body at the contact and he laughed, his fingers pinching your nipples until you arched your back, opening yourself up to more of his touches.

“I missed you too,” you mumbled back, reaching your arms out to touch him. You wanted to trace the lines of his tattoos and feel his skin move under your touch. You wanted to pull him closer and closer until there was nothing separating you anymore.

“No, omega,” his hand caught yours, encasing both your wrists and gently pushing them over your head until they were lying on the pillow. Leaning above you, holding you down, he looked so in charge it made your mouth water and your pussy even wetter. “I want to take my time with you.”

“Alpha, please, I need –“

“I know, I know,” he assured you with a wicked grin on his face, “Your heat is near, love, and you need someone to fill that pussy of yours. I promise, I will. Okay?”

You nodded, pouting up at him, “Okay.”

He was a sight for sore eyes, all broad and shielding you from the sunlight falling in through the window. He was so close, you were sure he could feel your heart pounding in your chest hard enough to make your stomach flip. The scent of pinewood filled your nostrils and you smiled at him, feeling calmer than ever at his presence. Paz leant down, kissing you again before trailing kisses down your neck, right to your chest.

“Leave your hands where they are or I’ll have to stop.”

You wanted to ask him what he meant to stop, but by then his hands had already ripped your panties to shred and were busy holding your legs apart. The callouses on his fingertips made the soft skin of your inner thighs feel extra sensitive and your legs twitched, trying to close from his gaze. Heath flushed your face and chest, you had never been looked at so intently by someone and the fire in Paz’s eyes gave no indication of him stopping.

“Beautiful,” he murmured as if to himself, his thumbs brushing over your thighs, “You’re absolutely beautiful.”

And then he dove in.

You weren’t prepared for the concert of sensation he would cause in you. One lick over your slit and your back arched off the mattress, a hint of teeth on your folds and he slipped your thighs over his shoulders, allowing him to press harder into you.

His tongue gathered your juices and you moaned, feeling the desire thrum through your veins. When he circled your clit, you saw stars at the edge of your vision, and then he sucked and it took every ounce of willpower you had to leave your hands on the pillows and not bury them in his hair, trying to pull him closer.

Paz groaned, the vibrations making you gush and you could feel his calloused fingers on your folds, spreading you wide open for him to plant open-mouthed kisses against you. His ministrations made you climb higher and higher, especially when his thumb came into the mix, steadily circling your clit while he sucked on you. “A-alpha, I’m … I think I’m ….”

“Come for me,” he looked up at you, the sight absolutely the stuff of dreams. Although you hadn’t touched him, his hair was all dishevelled and his eyes were a burning blue when he looked at you from between your thighs, his mouth against your clit. One large finger, much larger than one of your own, slid inside you and the slow stretched paired beautifully with his mouth on your clit.

So beautifully that, when his teeth grazed over your clit, you came apart on his tongue and fingers.

Paz let you ride out the waves on his finger, prolonging your pleasure when he pushed a second finger inside you. It was clear he was trying to be gentle, stretching you with his fingers slowly pushing in and out, massaging that spot that had your feet trembling.

Here you were, completely out of breath, and Paz was still hitting spots in you like he had barely gotten started.

“This is exactly what I dreamt about,” the alpha sat up, licking his lips. The sight was so sinful, you could feel yourself gushing again. “You’re delicious, sweetheart.”

Then his hands drifted to the waistband of his pants and you watched with baited breath as tattooed fingers pushed down his pants, revealing a very sizable erection. He was large and heavy, hanging between his legs like something out of a horror movie – or your wet dreams. You swallowed back your gasp at the sight of him but you could not help your core clenching in anticipation. Paz’s eyes fell to that exact spot.

“Look at that little pussy,” he rumbled smugly, one hand closing around his shaft, stroking himself, “All ready to get filled up, aren’t you?”

You nodded, not even trying to pretend like you were cool anymore. “Yes, please.”

“Always so polite,” he teased you. Free of his pants, he climbed back over you, his weight pushing you into the comfort of his bed. One hand found your wrists again, pushing them into the soft pillow. You spread your legs for him, urging him to get closer. Your heat made you feel like you would climb out of your skin unless he was inside you within the next thirty seconds. Thankfully, your alpha seemed to understand the direness of the situation.

Your alpha slotted himself between your legs, his shaft gliding over your folds. The touch already drove you crazy and he made it even worse, tapping the head of his cock over your clit again and again and again until –

“Paz!”

“Alright, alright, sweetheart.”

- he slowly pushed inside you. You took a deep breath, trying you best to accommodate his girth and size. Your walls fluttered around him, and you took another deep breath, relaxing around him.

 “Stars, you’re a dream,” he grunted, his breath hot on your face, “So tight for me, sweetheart. Gotta open up, love, gotta let me in.”

You angled your knees, lifting them around his hips and he slipped in another inch, stealing your breath. One hand still held onto your wrists, keeping you unmoving while he sank in to you.

“Let me in,” he rumbled, his eyes never leaving yours, “Let me take care of you, mega, alright?”

All you could do was nod, stars and blackness dancing at the edge of your vision from how much pleasure – how much pressure – you felt. It was almost too much.

“’m bursting,” you whimpered, squeezing around him. Every ridge, every vein, you felt it all as he worked himself inside you. “Never been so full. I – I don’t know how – ”

Paz’s eyes darkened. “I know, sweetheart, I know you’re so full of me you don’t know what to do with all that cock. But you want to let me inside, don’t you? You want to know what it’s like to be knotted by your true mate, hm?”

The gentle tone of his voice stood in stark contrast to the filthy things he was describing but it was exactly what you wanted to hear. The thought of being knotted by him filled you with a whole new wave of want.

“Yes,” you rasped, clamping down on him, “Yes, I want that.”

Paz started to move, slow and careful, at first, watching your face for any sign of discomfort. You tried your best to show him that while he might stretch you to your limits, it was the best you had ever felt. Your skin tingled with pleasure and when your breaths turned into short gasps, your eyes hazy from all the sensation, Paz seemed to realize it too.

When he pushed inside you again, he used more force, his hips snapping against yours. His pubic bone ground against your clit and you swallowed back a moan. Noticing you holding back, Paz growled, grinding against you, hitting a spot so deep inside you, it both hurt and sent a thrill through you. It could have made you come on the spot.

“P-Paz,” your fingers tingled, desperate for getting a feel of him.

“Sh, you can take it,” he hushed you, his mouth gently brushing over your temple. He was leaning over you and you let your eyes roam over his naked chest, rippling muscles covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He smelled and looked divine and when you lifted your gaze, your eyes caught on the gold chain hanging around his strong neck.

He was still wearing it, even now, and your heart skipped a beat at the knowledge. He’d always had a soft spot for you.

Widening your legs, you offered yourself a view of him driving inside you. A view for the gods, really. There was something so erotic about watching his thick shaft, covered in your wetness, driving into you again and again.

“How’s it look?” he asked you darkly, “How does my thick cock look in you?”

“Good,” your cheeks heated with embarrassment, “It looks perfect, alpha.”

“That’s what I thought, now look back at me. Let me see those pretty eyes all glazed over cause you’re finally filled just the way you need, hm?”

Words left you and you could only nod. That’s when he picked up the pace, hitting that spot inside you and your clit over and over again.

Your body bowed, thrashing with pleasure, but Paz held steadfast. His rhythm did not stutter even once, consistently fucking into you until you were a babbling mess, crying out for him to please please please make me come.

His free hand wound between your bodies, his thumb circling your clit and it was just that light touch that finally sent you over the edge. This wasn’t your first orgasm by any means but somehow, it felt entirely new. Your body felt on fire, your muscles clenched from your jaw to your tiptoes, nothing but pleasure registering in your brain.

“Good job, omega,” he softly kissed your temple, “Keep coming for me. Doing such a good job, milking me for all I’m worth, sweetheart. Won’t have no choice but knot you soon, hm?”

The mention of him knotting you, tying himself to you figuratively and literally, made sparks shiver down your spine. Your hands clenched helplessly in his grasp, your climax drawn out by the images in your head. And yet, you couldn’t say anything, your mouth dry, your chest heaving from pleasure still. You opened your lips, hoping – praying – that he would understand what you wanted to say so desperately.

Paz’s grin was diabolical in the hottest way when he leant down so close that his lips brushed against yours “C’mon, use your words,” he encouraged you, his voice heavy, before he bit down on your bottom lip, “I know what you want but you gotta say it, love. I can’t fulfil your wishes if you don’t tell me about them.”

What a bastard.

Your annoyance unlocked something in you. “Knot me,” you whined, “Please please knot me, alpha. I want you to come inside me and – oh fuck, please.”

“So polite,” he nipped at your ear, his nose brushing over your scent gland. His hand let go of your wrists and his knuckles stroked over your cheek before he settled his palm at the base of your neck.

His fingers dug into your throat ever so gently, his thumb pressing into your scent gland and it was that little bit of stimulation that had your eyes roll back in your head as you came again. Fuck, would it be like this all the time? If so, you would never let him leave your bed.

Your tightness must have been what set him off because Paz moaned, a beautiful deep sound, and he pushed into you as far as your body would allow. You could feel him swelling at the base, his knot forming right where he entered you. No one had ever come inside you, but the feeling of his come shooting inside your walls was just oddly right. Like a puzzle piece that finally fit.

And the blissful look on his face made even the stretch at your entrance seem minimal because you made him feel like that. You were the one and he was the one who had made you see stars.

Paz’s weight settled on top of you, almost crushing you but somehow also keeping you tethered to reality. His head laid on the pillow next to yours, facing you. His fingers gingerly brushed over your scent gland, where his thumb had almost left a mark. “Shit, ‘mega, I’m sorry, I don’t know what –“

“Mate me.”

“What?”

“Mate me, please,” you whispered, your chest heaving with breaths. Everything had suddenly become so clear, you felt like when you were looking at him, you were looking at your future. You knew you were looking at your future. “Don’t make me beg, alpha, or wait. I know what I want and I want it with you and this feels … right. It feels right, just how it’s meant to be and if you’re going to tell me you can’t make me happy then I’ll tell you how you’re wrong and – oh!”

His teeth sunk into your flesh and you moaned. You wrapped your arms around his back, holding him close while his face was buried in your neck. You angled your knees, trying to give the bulk of his body more space. You could feel his bite drawing blood but, oddly enough, it did not hurt at all. In fact, it felt right.

It felt like you had spent your entire life underwater and now you were coming up through the surface, breathing in the fresh air and seeing the world clearly and in colour.

“Do it,” he murmured, his tongue laving at the wound on your neck, “Mark me, mega.”

You did not even question what he was talking about before your dug your teeth into his strong neck.

You both stayed like that, entwined with each other, heaving chests pressed together and completely out of breath. You could still feel him inside you, could still feel the new traces of the bond between you and your eyes stung with tears of joy. You had finally arrived somewhere you were always meant to go.

Paz gently rolled you both around until he was on his back and you were straddling him. You settled your cheek right on his chest, listening to his racing heartbeat under your ear.

A blanket fell over you, cocooning you in against his scent and warmth.

“I love you,” he rumbled, his fingers drawing patterns over your back, “Maybe I should’ve told you that before I marked you for everyone to see but it’s true. I love you, omega, and I will spend my life trying to be worthy of you.”

For the longest time, you were convinced that hearing these words from his mouth would absolutely exhilarate you. But the reality was you already knew he loved you. You sensed it in every word he directed at you, every touch, every smile he sent your way. Hearing him say it out loud filled you with long-awaited peace and satisfaction.

This was your true mate. This was the alpha you knew he would be.

“I love you too,” you whispered, your eyes already dropping closed from exhaustion. You could feel how your heat was satisfied for the moment, being filled by him and close to your alpha.

He kissed your hairline, his arms tightening around you. “Rest now, love,” he murmured against your forehead, “I will be here when you wake up.”

And you knew what he said was true: You would wake up in the arms of your true mate.

You did not say anything at that but the silence felt comfortable and he felt comfortable and when he said goodbye with a wink and closed the door for you, he turned to the driver.

“Get her home safe, alright?”

“Yes, sir.”

He watched the car drive away, his hands in his pockets, and Paz let himself feel the happiness of the night. Nothing had gone wrong. He hadn’t hurt you. He’d even made you laugh a few times and after he had accepted his award and posed for a few pictures he had come straight back to you. And you had been waiting for him, that still made his heart skip a beat. You had stood with Chants and Din and you had been waiting for him, all smiles and soft touches, and, sure, the evening had not gotten him any more dances with you but you had sat together at dinner and he had talked with you and Din and Chants and he couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this seen. Like a part of something other than just a hockey team.

If only his parents could see him now.

“Omega –“

The familiar voice made him freeze behind the pillar. Granted, he just wanted to return to the party but he also did not want to awkwardly ruin a lover’s spat. Because that was exactly what it sounded like.

“No, Boba, you can’t just … use that voice on me and make me try to forget!” a female voice cried, “I got dressed up for this. For you. And instead of gathering the courage to ask you to dance in front of them, I had to listen to my parents go on and on about your fabulous date. It made me feel like a fool, okay? A foolish, stuck-up omega who set her hopes on the wrong alpha.”

“You know that’s not true, princess.”

“Do I? Do I, Boba fucking Fett? Because all I saw today was you dragging me into a bathroom like I am some kind of dirty secret.”

“Do not call yourself that, princess, your father –“

“My father doesn’t give a shit about me,” the woman interrupted his coach and Paz winced. There was no way he could leave now without drawing attention to himself. “But I thought you did.”

A woman rushed past him in a flurry of a dark green dress and tear tracks down her cheeks. He had never seen someone so unhappy and so fast on their feet. No matter how fast she was, there was no way he wouldn’t recognize the owner’s daughter.

And there was no way he wouldn’t recognize his very unhappy-looking coach who had hurried a few steps after her before coming to a stop right next to him.

“Rough night, huh?” he tried to joke.

Boba just glowered before shouldering past him.

*

Weeks passed without talking to you and something in Paz started to itch. He grew restless, grumpy, more and more short-tempered as time went on. But the distance also allowed him to clear his mind. Maybe this was what he needed to recognize that no matter how nice and kind and funny and beautiful and soft and warm you were, he would never be able to have a true mate.

“So, have you talked to your dad?” Din asked in the locker room after a particularly rough practice. Paz did not seem to be the only one suffering from missing his omega … Coach Fett had barely said a word that wasn’t work-related since the award dinner.

Paz shook his head with a grunt. “Thought about it, but …” he trailed off, loosening the ties on his skates, “Didn’t know what to say other than tell him how he fucked me over again.”

His friend knew this time of year was hard for him. His dad’s birthday always fell on a game day when he was younger and what was supposed to be a fun family day had long become the most stressful three hours of his life. Because if he didn’t win, he’d ruin his dad’s birthday and what good kid would ever want to do that to their dad?

Now all he could think about was how his hateful demeanours had turned him into a man incapable of love. Incapable of caring for his omega. Anger coursed through him Paz closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and trying not to think about your sweet scent and the shy smiles you sent him when you thought he wasn’t looking.

And then he thought about how these smiles disappeared when he actually looked at you.

“You know I’ve been thinking,” Din started again.

“That’s dangerous stuff, Djarin.”

“Oh, shut up. But I really have been thinking. About you and Chant’s friend.”

That got his attention and he sat up, looking at his friend. He hoped Din knew he was on thin fucking ice.

“I think you are lying to yourself, Paz, and to her. I understand why you think what you are doing is right but I can see how you hurt yourself in the process … and her.”

“I would never –“

“You are though,” Din protested, his, “You are hurting her. Did it not occur to you that she feels what you do? You think you are sacrificing yourself by going through this phase of, what exactly? Pretending like your true mate doesn’t exist so she will choose someone else? That is not how it works and we both know it. All you are doing right now is letting your parents win.”

Paz’s mind was full of images and thoughts he could not get rid of. You being hurt. You choosing someone that wasn’t him, smiling at someone that wasn’t him. You hurting because of him. It was like he looked in a distorted mirror and the glass was breaking and he was suddenly faced with the reality of who he was.

An alpha who had pushed away his true mate.

He felt dizzy.

“I hurt her,” he swallowed against a suddenly dry mouth, “Fuck, she – she is everything, Din. I – I thought if I pushed her away maybe she would find happiness with someone who could give it to her.”

Din’s hand was warm on his shoulder, offering the brotherly support he so desperately would have needed as a child. “I know,” he assured, “I know you, Paz. I know you thought that would be what’s best for her. But can’t you see that that doesn’t work? I have seen you at the award show,” he reminded him, “I saw how happy you were. You were glowing, Paz, both of you. I want that for you. I want you to have that happiness because it’s what you deserve, I know you do.”

“I have to talk to her.”

“I know.”

“I have to talk to her now. I have to –“ Apologize. Beg for her forgiveness. Try to explain myself. Confess my undying love for her. Let her know how important she is to me. Tell her about the dreams I have with her by my side. Ask her to tell me all about her dreams so I can try and make them come true.

“How about you settle for not antagonizing her further, hm?”

“I could ask her out next week,” Paz ignored his friend, his thoughts still racing, “There is this café she likes to go to for brunch. I could – I could ask her for a coffee and maybe we could take a walk through the park she likes and then –“

“Not so fast,” Din laughed before revealing, “Chants wanted to do the rehearsal dinner next week.”

Paz slipped on his shirt, thinking. “That can’t be,” he turned to him, “That’s the weekend we’re in Hoth for the away game.”

His dark-haired team mate winced. “Yeah, it is a bit short notice, I know. But the rehearsal dinner will be in Hoth, they have this beautiful ski resort and we thought it could be a good opportunity to get everyone out there for a few days. It’ll be the day before the game.”

The day before the game? “Shit, Din, you sure? Coach will have your head for it.”

“Coach is invited,” Din grinned, “and already announced he will bring a plus one.”

He chanced a look at where their coach had disappeared into his office, scowling at anyone who dared to stand in his way. “Does his plus one know about it?”

Din shrugged. “No idea but that just means more entertainment for us, right? Besides, there is a certain maid of honour that I am sure will be happy to see you.”

Paz stood up, shouldering his bag and pushing away all thoughts where he tried to tell himself you would be better off without him. Thoughts that suspiciously started sounding like his parents. Thoughts that he would work against now because you were his true mate and he would keep trying to prove to himself and to you that he could be the mate you needed.

“Well then I guess I have a rehearsal dinner to attend.”

*

Hoth was a beautiful town up in the mountains where snow was falling all year round and the twinkling lights transformed the streets into a winter wonderland. The winter resort Din and Chants had picked for their dinner was reminiscent of a log cabin turned into a mansion. You did not want to know how much your friends had splurged on getting this hotel booked out for the entire weekend but you certainly would not complain if it gave you complementary spa access.

The team had arrived a few days earlier and even though they stayed at the same hotel, you had not seen them yet. Which did not bother you at all. And it certainly did not bother you that you had not gotten to see Paz again who had somehow warmed up to you and wormed his way into your heart at the same time.

Nope, you were not spending any time thinking about him at all. In fact, you were very focussed on assisting Chants in preparing the rehearsal dinner.

“So, this is the dining room,” the hotel employee opened the double doors to reveal a beautiful rustic room with wooden beams, “We set everything up as requested. The flower delivery arrived just this morning and we will be happy to assist you. Do you need us to print out anything beside the menus? Place card, perhaps?”

“Thank you so much,” you smiled at her, lifting your rustling tote bag, “We have the place cards with us.”

“Perfect, I will leave you to it, the band should be here around five and if you need anything in the meantime, please do let me know.” And with that, the blonde woman left you alone.

“I am just so excited,” Chants was giddy, “It will be so dreamy and Din is so excited too and –“

You laughed, hugging your friend. “It will be wonderful, I am sure.”

His familiar scent – oranges and anise – drifted in your nose and you winced, your skin prickling in discomfort. Was it time already? You frowned, counting the days and months since your last heat.

“Are you okay?” Chants’ hands landed on your shoulders. There was no way your best friend hadn’t spotted the frown on your face, he knew you too well.

“I think it’s just my pre-heat,” you waved him off, “I’ll take some painkillers and I should be good to go. Promise.”

The groom-to-be did not look particularly convinced but Chants also had too many other things to take care of to truly grill you which worked in your favour. You help him set up each table, making sure every seat had their menu and place card on it before counting the glasses and silverware.

When you were done with the tables assigned to you, you caught him just in time to see him placing your card next to one Paz Vizsla, Best Man. Your heart skipped a beat. You knew that you would see him tonight at the latest, but knowing that you would get to sit next to him for the whole night? That just was the cherry on top.

“Sorry, there was no other way,” Chants apologized as soon as he saw where your eyes had landed.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind,” you rushed out, gripping the back edge of the chair to distract yourself from the tight feeling in your stomach. Pre-heat sucked.

Chants immediately narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Have we finally arrived at the moment where you realize that he’s just emotionally constipated and doesn’t know how to properly voice his feelings but you still love him?”

You looked at your friend completely dumbfounded until he laughed. “Oh, come on! I see the way you look at him. And he looks at you. I don’t know what happened that you decided to just pine for each other from afar. I swear the air sizzles every time you two talk.”

“I’m not pining,” you pouted, “I just – he’s … he’s –“

“Stubborn? A little rough around the edges? Never shutting up about you?” Chants counted on his fingers, “Really, I know you are my friend, but how can you not see how in love he is with you? From everything that man went through, it is a miracle he’s even brave enough to smile at you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, Din told me once,” Chants whispered, “Paz seems like such an asshole but I think it’s the classic case of a traumatic childhood that was left to fester into an angry ball of anxiety in adulthood. His parents divorced when he was very young, it must’ve been very dysfunctional dynamic from the get go. His father was some angry midlevel hockey coach who wanted nothing more than to get his son to be the player he himself never could be. And his mother – I think his mother couldn’t quite bear seeing her child be turned into something she didn’t approve of? And when she left them, she took eight-year-old Paz by the shoulders and said “If you ever find your omega I hope you will stay far away from them, you would only ever hurt them”. And then she left.”

You felt like someone had punched you in the gut with wave of new information. The image of any parent talking to their child like that … it made your stomach cramp up even more. To imagine your parents would’ve said that to you once you had presented as an omega? You would have walked through life an anxious mess.

“Left where?”

“I don’t know, back to her parents I think?” Chants shrugged, “Din mentioned that she tried to reach out a few years ago but I don’t think Paz ever forgave her for leaving him with his angry father.”

“Oh.”

“Yup,” Chants popped out, “So, can you imagine what happens when that man finds his true mate? He’d probably run for the hills.”

“Yeah …” you trailed off. Or call them a needy omega desperate to get a sniff.

*

Overwhelmed by your pre-heat and the bomb Chants had dropped on you, you spent the rest of the day in your hotel room. Mostly just to take naps in the very comfortable hotel bed and watch some TV, waiting for the painkillers to kick in. Pre-heats usually weren’t so bad for you, but it did not help that you weren’t home or that you were nervous about seeing Paz again.

Still, this was important to Chants and so it was important to you. Nothing a good hot shower, a painkiller and a pep talk in the mirror couldn’t fix.

As you made your way down the stairs, careful not to get your legs tangled up in your dark red cocktails dress, you felt the anxiety make a comeback. Under no circumstances would you ruin this evening for your friend but as you spotted a few guests mingling in the reception area, panic rose in you.

You didn’t want to be here. You couldn’t be here. Everyone smelled too strong and too strange and what if you had to shake someone’s hand or hug them and they would touch you and –

“You’re in pain,” a deep voice greeted you, pulling you out of your thoughts, “What’s wrong, omega?”

You turned around to be faced with none other than Paz Vizsla. The first thing you noticed was that he smelled so divine, you had to physically keep yourself from wrapping around him like a koala. The second thing you noticed was that he looked too good in a white dress shirt stretching over his shoulders. Something glinted on his neck and you frowned. You probably should answer him.

“Listen Vizsla, I don’t have time for your antics today. I –“

“Omega,” he repeated, a frown on his face that matched your own. Stars, him calling you this shouldn’t do anything to you. Certainly not the clenching between your thighs. He looked angry and concerned and how was he so close to you already, crowding you in a corner that made you feel safe and invisible?

“It’s just my pre-heat,” you muttered, “It’ll be fine. I took a painkiller and just … It feels a bit tight and crampy. I will be fine.”

Before you could ponder why on earth you decided to talk to Paz freaking Vizsla about your pre-heat, his large hand landed on your lower back. As if he knew exactly where you were hearting and that the warmth of his hand would ease some of the pain.

“Better?” he asked, his voice low in your ear. He had ducked forward, his lips brushing against your temple and you closed your eyes, nodding in affirmation.

“Much better.”

“Good,” he sounded very satisfied, his arm pulling you closer to him, “Then allow me to get you to your seat, sweetheart.”

“Don’t you have a date?” you asked, your voice faint. Everyone was looking at you and you wished for nothing more than be alone with him, somewhere no one could ever find you. You crossed the beautifully decorated dining room, where Chants and Din were already conversing with some of the guests. Even Coach Fett was here, although he looked like he would rather be anywhere else.

“I am sitting next to you, aren’t I?”

The sight of him pulling out your chair for you shouldn’t make your heart race but when it came to this alpha, you were doing a lot of things you had sworn you would never do. Like let your hand brush over his on the back of your chair. Or tilt your head to the side when he pushed you in, his face brushing over your scent gland.

“I’m not your date.”

“Why not?”

His question had you fall silent. Thoughts were racing through your mind and they all came to the same conclusion: Charming Paz was dangerous.

“You, uh, you didn’t ask me out.”

“If I’d seen you, I would’ve. Besides, Din refused to give me your number,” he looked upset by that, “No matter how much I begged him for it.”

Your lips quirked up, “Is that your way of asking me for my number?”

The smile he sent your way made your panties melt. His arm landed on the back of your chair and he leant closer, his lips brushed over the top of your ear. “And if you want to be my date to this rehearsal dinner.”

“If I say yes, will you promise not to tease me today?” you asked, only half-joking because deep down, there was a real fear that he would return to his old ways. That the alpha in front of you could only be kind and charming towards you for so long before his true disdain shone through.

“No matter what you say, I will never mock you again,” he revealed, his warm eyes dropping to your lips, “I – I was a shithead the first time we met, sweetheart, and also the times after that, if I am honest. I – I hope that one day I can explain but for now I just need you to know how sorry I am. It will never happen again, omega, I promise.”

There were a lot of things you had expected to happen tonight. For one, you were sure that Chants would cry when the band played his and Din’s song. You were also certain that Coach Fett would stalk out of the dinner as soon as the slow dance portion of the night began because you could not see his date anywhere. What you hadn’t expected, and what had caught you completely off-guard, was hearing an apology from Paz Vizsla’s lips.

A sincere apology, no less, if the strong scent of anxiety and pain was anything to go by.

An apology you didn’t know how to respond to because while you were still terrified of rejection, you believed him. You believed in the way he had spoken to you so softly the last time you had met, the way he had never taken his eyes off you or how he touched you so carefully.

You had already forgiven him.

Everybody around you started to get into their assigned seats, the waiters entering the room with the first course and you swallowed. Throwing a hasty smile to Paz, you tried to focus on getting through the served dinner without embarrassing yourself – either by getting your hopes up that your seat neighbour would confess his undying love to you or by being in so much pain you accidentally knocked over a red wine onto Chant’s mother’s dress.

Din and Chants sat right across from you and your best friend sent you a blinding smile when he spotted Paz’s arm around the back of your chair. How he ate with just one hand and still looked like a dazzling gentleman was a mystery to you but you would not complain about his proximity. The occasional brush of his thumb on your shoulder had you grip your fork a bit tighter or else your hand would land on his thigh and that was not the time nor the place for it.

Din, too, seemed particularly pleased and you averted your eyes, feeling your cheeks heat up with pleasure.

The dinner was delicious and you did not know what you enjoyed more – the freshly made baguette accompanying the salad or the spinach-coloured pasta. What it did not change was how uneasy you felt, with your cramps getting stronger by the minute. You tried your best to make conversation with everyone around you and even when you were drowse with pain, Paz was there to swoop in and pick up where you had trailed off.

You had never seen him act so at ease and your thoughts drifted to what Chants had revealed to you this afternoon. Would it be too forward to talk to him about this? After all, it seemed like a very private story and maybe he didn’t even know that Chants knew and then how would he react if he found out that you knew? But a not-so-small part in you also wanted to take him by the shoulders and tell him that he deserved love and that just because his mother (and probably also his father, now that you thought about it) had spewed some hateful prophecies at him, it didn’t mean that they were true.

You shifted in your seat again, trying to find a position that would at least not worsen the pain in your abdomen, when his arm dropped from your back and your heart fell. Maybe your incessant moving had annoyed him? You forced yourself to sit still, smiling at one of Din’s dry jokes.

Suddenly, your chair shifted and you squeaked in surprise, your hands landing on the table. A forceful shift to the right and you found yourself moving closer to Paz. His hand must have reached under your chair and dragged you close enough until your thighs were touching. And he had the audacity to look like nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

“What’re you doing?” you hissed.

“Helping you,” he murmured, his nose brushing over your throat, his arm winding around your shoulders and tugging you even closer. His other arm reached across him until his hand could land on your lower belly, the heat seeping through the thin fabric of your dress. It was as if he could sense that was where your discomfort came from and you tried very hard to ignore the sight of his strong hand on your body.

“I’d like you more on my lap,” he confessed just for you, “Or in my bed, actually. So I can hold you like this all night and make sure you’re not in pain. But I’ll settle for this as long as you can bear it.”

Stars above what happened to this man? How did he know just what to say? What to do?

You tilted your head slightly and Paz immediately dropped his nose into the crook of your neck. You could feel his deep inhale and you wondered if you smelled as good to him as he did to you.

“I can bear it forever,” you whispered, overwhelmed by the sudden urge to just burrow into him, “Isn’t that strange?”

“Not at all, omega,” his lips moved against your shoulder, soft and dry, “In fact, I think it is exactly what we’re meant –“

“Time for a speech from the best man!”

Din’s announcement had you flinch away from him and you could swear you heard Paz actually growl, his arms around you tightening. “Aren’t speeches for the wedding itself?“

“Not if you’re this close to mating the maid of honour in public,” the hockey goalie joked and you could feel the heat burn your cheeks. Was that really what it looked like? Was Paz trying to … woo you?

The man next to you rose from his seat and apart from missing the warmth of his body, you also realized just how tall he was. He made a magnificent figure in the tailored suit with his broad shoulders and thick thighs and the ring glinting on his little finger.

“I met Din Djarin over twenty years ago,” he started, his voice carrying through the room, demanding attention, “And if anyone would have told me that this broody, silent, dry-humoured man would someday not be able to shut up about that party planner we met at a team event,” he chuckled, “I would not have believed them. But it happened and it was beautiful to see my best friend find the love he deserves and grow each day into a truer version of himself. Chants, you are an incredibly human being and I will forever be in your debt for making my best friend the happiest man on earth. Here’s to love, everyone!”

Glasses clinked, people murmured Cheers! and the band started playing. Chants and Din got up, making their way hand in hand to the dancefloor only to be joined by the other guests. Only you remained rooted in your seat.

Paz sat back down next to you, his face morphing from a happy smile to sheer panic.

“What’s wrong, mega?” his hands landed on your stomach, “Are you in pain? Is that why you’re crying? Do you need me to call the ambulance? I – I am sure I can get a rental somewhere, I can drive you to the hospital, we just need to –“

“No,” you interrupted him gently, taking hold of his hand, “Sorry, I just – That was a beautiful speech.” You teared up again, “I kept thinking about how Chants is a truer version of himself, too, and how true mates do that for one another and how good a friend you are and …” You trailed off, wiping the back of your hand over your face, “Sorry.”

His face fell. “I never want to be the reason for you to cry. I – Omega, I can’t bear to see you cry. Please, what can I do?”

The sheer distress in his voice would have been amusing if it didn’t also remind you of the pain he must have went through as a child and the pain he put you through just a few weeks ago and the physical pain you were feeling right now. Stars, you were a mess.

“I cannot stop,” you sobbed, “Chants told me about your mom and I thought … I had this silly thought that maybe the reason you didn’t like me is because you thought I was your omega. And then I felt silly because not everything is about me and it is so pathetic that I keep trying to find versions of your past which would explain why you don’t feel the pull that I do.”

“Omega …”

Panic rose in you, the kind that slung around your neck and made it harder, if not impossible to breathe. You had said too much. You had revealed too much. This was the moment Paz would not only realize how deep your feelings for him ran but also that he did not reciprocate said feelings.

And you were honest enough to admit you were too much of a coward to deal with that today.

“You know what?” you stood up so abruptly the chair almost toppled over, “Actually, I am not feeling well. I should go to bed and rest. Goodnight.”

You hurried away without giving him a chance to break your heart.

*

Turns out, escaping from someone inevitably breaking your heart didn’t offer you the peace and rest you needed.

After shooting off a quick text apologizing to Chants for your early departure (“Don’t worry, darling, I am just sorry to see how in pain you were. Let’s catch up tomorrow.”), a hot bath and a sickeningly sweet hallmark movie, you were lying in bed, feeling both numb and in pain.

Not the best combo.

Your phone told you it was 2 a.m. and you turned onto your other side, a heavy sigh leaving your lips. Maybe if you just closed your eyes and tried to think of literally anything other than Paz you could find some sleep.

The darkness behind your eyelids did not help though, it only made his imaginary voice louder. “I am sorry if I gave you the wrong impression,” he would say, “I do not think of you that way,” he would add. “You are not the omega for me,” he would continue, “There is no way you are my true mate.”

Tears ran down your cheeks and you turned your face into the pillow, trying to stifle a sob as another cramp hit you. The universe really must hate you if it timed your heat and the rejection of your true mate into the same damn week.

A knock on your door made you sit up. Did you imagine that?

No, there it was again.

With your heart pounding in your chest, you stood up, bare feet sinking into the carpet as you walked to the door. With the way the week was going, maybe you were about to be relieved from the shame and humiliation by a serial killer.

The wooden door creaked open and you blinked against the harsh light of the hallway. Your eyes needed time to adjust to the view but your nose had already picked up the familiar scent of pine and wet earth.

“Paz?”

Paz Vizsla stood in front of you in his black slacks and an undone white dress shirt. The stubble was dark on his jaw and there were circles forming under his eyes. He looked like he had not gotten any sleep as well.

“Omega,” he sounded hoarse and stepped close to you, his hand on the doorframe, “Omega, can I come in?”

“Are – Are you here to tell me I am not your true mate?”

“What?” his brow furrowed, “No! No, I am here because – because you are in pain. And I cannot sleep not knowing you are safe.”

You stepped to the side and he followed you in. The room was still cloaked in darkness but even after the door fell back into its lock, you knew exactly where he was. You just need to reach out and –

“Your heart is racing,” you whispered.

“Because of you.”

He was there, right in front of you, and you could feel the pounding in his chest that matched your own. Your other hand joined the first and you were standing in darkness, touching his chest and Paz … Paz came even closer.

“Let me stay,” he said, his breath mingling with yours, “Let me hold you tonight, omega, please. I – There is so much I want to say to you but I know you need your sleep.”

Some might say it was a split-second decision, to let him stay. But the truth was it wasn’t a decision at all. You knew immediately that you wanted him here and that there was nothing that could replace the feeling of him right next to you.

His hand felt rough in yours as you led him to your bed, only letting go of him to climb onto the king-sized mattress. Paz was right behind you, his bulk moving with such grace, he didn’t even make a sound as raised the blanket to shift close to you.

“No belt,” you murmured when you felt the cold metal press against your lower back, “Please.”

“Course, omega,” there was a kiss to your shoulder and you could feel the mattress dip with his movements. The clinking of his belt later and he was back behind you, his thighs resting against the back of your legs, his chest pressed against your back, his arm around your waist and his hand settling on your lower stomach. You were completely surrounded by him and for the first time since forever, it felt like your body completely relaxed.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” his nose drifted to that spot right behind your ear and your eyes drooped with exhaustion.

“Me too,” you whispered, “Me too, alpha.”

And then you drifted off to sleep.

You woke up just a few hours later, cloaked in his scent.

It was still dark outside, though you could see the sky getting a little lighter above the mountains. But it wasn’t enough by far to wake you from your deep and comfortable slumber.

“Don’t leave, alpha,” you said groggily, blindly reaching out to him, “please.”

“I have to, my love,” he whispered, “I have to leave for the final practice. We’re playing today, remember?”

You forced your eyes to open and stay open. He was standing on your side of the bed, his body blocking out the view out the window.

Something rough smoothed over your cheek and it took you a few second to realize that it was his hand. You nuzzled into his palm, trying catch more of his scent and rub some of your scent onto him. A girl could dream, right?

“Stupid game,” you murmured. His resulting laugh was warm like hot chocolate.

“Stupid game, indeed. But it won’t change that I will be playing for you today,” he whispered and bent down to press a kiss to your forehead, “Rest, ‘mega. I will call you after the game.”

“You don’t even have my number.”

“I’ll find a way.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

The truth remained though that that’s just what this date was – a match made by your mother. And you felt the appropriate enthusiasm for it which was none at all.

That did not mean, however, that you could not be pleasantly surprised by a nice evening. When your taxi pulled up to the The Arconia, a turn-of-the-century luxury hotel that hosted weekly dances and dinners, you were still surprised that someone like Joe Berenson had it in him to plan what was essentially your dream date. 

Ever since you had moved to Mandalore, you had wanted to put on your best dress and go out dancing. While many things about life with your parents had annoyed you or even damaged you to the point where you knew you didn’t want the life they loved, you had always enjoyed your dance lessons. Getting to dance while a live band was playing in a gorgeous ballroom with your favourite dress? That was just magical.

“That looks wonderful,” you commented as Joe helped you out of the car, “I’ve always wanted to go. How did you think of it?”

“I didn’t, he did,” Joe shrugged, “And he will meet us there.”

Your heart skipped a beat and you followed him up the stairs into the hotel. Something scratched at the back of your mind, a desire for who you wanted this mysterious He to be. But you also did not want to be disappointed. Your life wasn’t a romance novel or one of those Hallmark movies you loved to watch around the holidays. Your life was just that: your life. And it was your responsibility to make sure you would get through it unscathed without any unnecessary heartbreak.

The interior of the Arconia was just as stunning as the outside and when Joe led you inside, the room was already quite crowded. The dim light from the chandeliers bathed everything in a golden light and your heart soared. This looked just like in the movies.

“So, you won’t you tell me why Coach Fett approached me after practice and threatened that if I so much as touched you I would be on the bench for the rest of the season?”

You wished you could act surprised or maybe even shocked at that statement. But you had trusted Boba when he told you he would take care of it and the thought that he would risk his involvement for you getting out in the open warmed your heart. “He did?”

Joe nodded, taking your coat from you and giving it to the staff at the entrance. “It was pretty intimidating, too. But who am I to complain, an evening of free drinks and a chance to flirt my way through Mandalore’s elite? That’s my dream right on a silver platter.”

“Wait, he is paying for this?”

“Uh-huh, said if anyone gets to invite his omega out for a fun night, it’d be him.”

His omega. His omega. His omega.

“He said that?”

The music grew louder the closer you got to the dance floor. Many couples were already dancing and the ones that weren’t were enjoying drinks and appetizers around the edge of the ballroom. The painted ceiling was just begging to be admired and maybe you could have done it, if you weren’t so busy trying to think about the fact that Boba Fett had called you his omega.

His omega.

You had never thought of yourself as belonging with someone. After all, who would want an omega with no real scent, a dysfunctional relationship to their parents and oftentimes too busy doubting herself to engage with the real world? But now that you thought of it, you realized that your heart grew larger, your skin warmer and your cheeks flushed at the thought of being Boba Fett’s omega.

“Listen, I am more than aware that I am used as a decoy here and I’ve decided to just do it for the plot but can we like … establish that he likes you?”

Snapped out of your thoughts of the handsome alpha, you looked at the one before you, feeling caught. “What are you talking about?”

“I can see it all over your face,” he made a circle motion with his finger, “And I can practically smell your questions of me elaborating whether he called you his omega – which, yes, he did – but that’s not the point I am trying to make here. I already have one lovesick alpha in my team and another one is getting married, please for all that his holy, do not bring more drama into my life by pretending like you don’t know Coach is absolutely besotted with you.”

Absolutely besotted?

Your cheeks blazed with a mix of giddiness, shame and doubt. You didn’t know what to say. After his little speech, you felt silly about asking him again if Boba had really called you that. It just seemed too good to be true.

One look at Joe’s unusually serious face had you abandon any plan of asking him about Boba.

“You should meet my friend, Maudii,” you blurted out, “I think you two would get along.”

“Give her my number, will you,” he winked at you, “And now let’s please talk about something other than my coach. I really don’t want to imagine what you two get up to in his office.”

“We don’t – nothing,” your cheeks burned and you grabbed one of the wine glasses a served offered you, trying to cool down with a sip of wine, “We get up to nothing.” Sadly.

“That’s a lie right there,” he smirked at you, “The entire team can all smell how happy he is when he sees you. But enough of that, wanna dance?”

“Really?” you could not hide your surprise this time around. Somehow, you had not expected him to actually want to dance (or even to know dancing).

The moment you stepped foot onto the dance floor, someone tapped Joe on his shoulder.

“Can I cut in?”

Boba was wearing an all-black ensemble. Black slacks paired with a black dress shirt that had the first few buttons undone. Why had it gotten so hot all of a sudden?

You took his offered hand without a word. It was so clear to you what he wanted and you had never been so grateful for this man who seemed to say everything without you having to ask. Also, you weren’t sure if you would even be able to form words. Maybe you needed a bit of fresh air. Or maybe you just needed to bury your face in his neck and play with his chest hair.

Boba was here. Boba had not only organized your date with Joe, he was actually here. Right now. Leading you into a slow dance through all these couples. His hands were touching your waist and your hand, the only things that were currently grounding you to reality.

Stars, if anyone had told you a few months ago that an alpha old enough to be your father would actually crash your date and you would be happy about it, you would have laughed. And then cried.

If only your mother could see you now.

Oh stars. Your mother.

“My – my mother,” you stuttered, your hand squeezing his as panic took hold of you, “What if she finds out? We’re in public and she will be so angry with you!”

“I have it on good authority that they are at the opera today,” he pulled you closer, his mouth on your temple as he expertly led you through the dance. You had never expected him to be such a good dancer but you didn’t even have to think about the music or the rhythm, you could just blindly follow him.

“You look stunning,” he continued quietly. You looked down at the dress you hadn’t worn since you had moved from Coruscant. It was tight across the upper part of your body but flared out from the waist which made it especially fun when Boba twirled you.

“Thank you,” you smiled, allowing yourself to relax. If your parents were at the opera, there was no chance they would go out dancing after. It just was not done. They hadn’t been long enough in Mandalore either to make connections that could report back to them about seeing you here today.

“I’d like to see you in my jersey sometime,” Boba grinned, “Or nothing at all. That would actually be even better.”

“Aren’t you too old to play?” you teased him back, “I don’t think the Raiders offer merch from retired players.”

“Who are you calling old?”

You laughed at the mock outrage on his face. His hands moved to hold onto your hips, pulling you flush against him. A gasp escaped you, your hands landing flat on his chest. He felt warm and sturdy and you wanted to tuck your fingers under his shirt.

“I may be too old to play, but I am not too old to fuck you into oblivion, princess,” he rumbled, “don’t forget that.”

“I can’t forget what hasn’t happened yet,” you bit your lip, “And I’d – I’d like for it to happen actually.”

Your heart was beating so strong you felt like it might fly out of your chest. You would fly right after it, feeling light and airy and so giddy at having said something out loud. You wanted him to fuck you. You wanted him to touch you. And you wanted him to know that.

“Like what? Use your words, little one,” he leant forward, eyes dark, “Ask nicely and I might just give it to you.”

A glance around you confirmed that no one was listening in to your conversation “I would like you to fuck me into oblivion,” you admitted in a whisper, feeling breathless, ”I – I would like you to knot me like you said in the bathroom the other day. I want to kiss you again and I want to wake up and feel sore and then do it all over again."

When people talked about remembering something for the rest of their lives, you were convinced it was hyperbole. But when Boba’s mouth descended upon yours in a breath stealing kiss, his hands holding you so close you could feel his heartbeat, before he whispered “Your wish is my command.” You were sure, this would be a night you would remember for the rest of your life.

*

“You booked a hotel room?”

“Didn’t want to risk anyone seeing us getting into my place,” he answered against your mouth, his hands playing with the buttons on the back of your dress, “And I wanted to make sure I only get the best for you.”

“That’s so sweet,” you murmured into the next kiss, stumbling back until you could feel the mattress behind your knees. Your shoes had gotten lost somewhere by the door and Boba’s shirt was lying across the armchair, enabling you to roam your hands over his chest.

“I knew it,” you murmured, “I knew it went over the front.”

“What is it, little one?” Boba asked you, his mouth planting wet kisses on your neck. Your fingers kept tracing over the design on his shoulder that stretched over his left pec. It must have hurt, the solid black design, but you somehow had the suspicion that he had just sat through it with that stoic patience of his.

Tilting your head back, you sighed as his mouth brushed over your scent gland. His scent had gotten a much sweeter note now. Vanilla, maybe? “Nothing, alpha.”

Your dress slipped past your hips with a whisper and your underwear soon followed until you were standing before him, completely bare. You usually weren’t so forward but there was something about having Boba wrapped around you, hazy from his kisses, that made you feel daring. Though not daring enough to not notice the open curtains.

“The windows …” you trailed off, watching the lit-up skyline and your reflection in the glass as Boba kissed you again. His rough hand palmed your breast, your nipples pebbling at the contact.

“No more hiding, omega,” he growled, walking you towards the bed, “I do not have the patience for it today. Let me see how pretty you look, hm? I need everyone to see how gorgeous you are for me.”

The callouses on his hands dragged over the soft skin of your hips and you shivered. There was no mistaking the wetness between your thighs at his words. “Would you like that?” he asked, his gaze dark as his fingers pinched your nipples, “Would you like everyone to know what a desperate little thing you can be for me?”

Being confronted with your own shameless fantasies wasn’t something you had expected to happen. But you also didn’t mind that his words evoked a whole new level of pleasure. “Yes,” you whispered, running your palm over his chest, arching your back into his touch, “I’d love that, alpha.”

“Good,” he growled, “Now get on the bed and spread your legs. Let me see you.”

You did as he asked without hesitation. The bed was soft and springy under your movements, and the blankets felt cool and soft. You turned your back to the headboard, settling your head on the pillow. Being all spread out for him in theory sounded incredibly hot, in practice you found yourself growing shy as you laid down, shuffling your feet apart.

His warm hand closed around your ankle, pushing it even more to the side until you were completely spread out for him. But now there was no time to feel shy when the heat in his gaze sent shivers down your skin, the wetness between your thighs steadily growing. You were sure he could see it shimmer in the dim moon light and streetlights shining through the hotel window.

Boba stood at the end of the bed in just his slacks. His chest was broad, his belly thick with the belt slightly digging into it. Fuck, he looked hot. Your chest rose and fell with rapid breaths as your eyes caught on the glinting watch on his wrist. This man so handsome and funny and his scent drove you insane and he wanted you. Boba Fett wanted you.

He grabbed your ankle again and you flinched at the contact, ripped out of your musings about him.

“Deep breaths, little one,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your ankle, “It’s just me. Just us.”

You nodded tentatively, “Okay.”

His hand remained on your ankle, keeping your spread as he climbed onto the bed and between your spread thighs. Your eyes never left each other and you drew comfort from the heat of his body. He looked at you, really looked at you and your heart calmed down.

Suddenly, everything grew quiet. Inside and out.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his hands slowly pushing your legs up and apart, “so pathetically wet just for me.”

From someone else, it might have been an insulting comment. Something meant to discourage you. But from Boba’s lips, it came as praise. Something that made you feel precious.

Before you could say anything else, he bent down, his mouth landing on your pussy. Your back flew off the mattress instantly, his tongue swiping over your folds and a groan coming from his chest so deep, you felt it in your bones.

Your hands twitching, seeking something to hold onto and finding only the cotton sheets beneath you.

“Oh fuck,” he grunted, “You taste delicious, omega.”

His rough tongue dragged over your clit, making you shiver. “Boba!”

“Is my girl close?” he asked, putting his hand on your lower stomach, gently pressing down as he pushed a finger inside you with the other. “You look like you want to come so bad for me, your hands are just gripping those fancy sheets.”

“Yes,” you gasped, “Yes, I want to come, I – I am so close, alpha, please –“

“Good. Then play with your tits.”

You were thinking too long about it, though, because Boba’s mouth disappeared from your pussy, leaving you aching. “C’mon, little one, pinch your pretty nipples. I can’t do it, I gotta hold you open and play with that pretty clit of yours. You just need a little bit more, hm?”

There was very little you wouldn’t do if he told you to. Putting your hands on your chest, therefore, was just as easily done as it was said. Your nipples felt rock-hard as you carefully circled them, teasing yourself with featherlight touches before rolling them between your fingertips.

“Harder.”

You pinched harder, the pleasure mixing with pain that had your back arching and your pussy fluttering. Boba must have noticed because another finger sank inside you, crooking slightly as he sought out a spot that had your muscles tensing.

“Good girl,” he mouthed at your inner thighs, looking up at you from between your legs, “You take instructions so well. I wonder how well you take my cock.”

“Really well,” you assured him, your words frantic as pleasure took over, “Really well, Boba, I promise.”

“Then come for me so I can see for myself, hm?” He hummed, the vibrations on your clit making you see stars as you reached your peak.

Boba pulled back, his face focussed on where you were still clenching around nothing as wave after wave of pleasure ran through you. He looked very smug, and way too sexy, considering how dishevelled you felt. His mouth was glistening with your juices and even in the throes of climax, you still felt like you couldn’t get enough of him.

Your knees were still angled toward your chest, your pussy aching, when Boba’s hands started to undo his belt. It was too dark to see the details but you knew what he looked like and the thought of finally having him inside you paired with the sound of his pants hitting the floor, had your breath catching in your throat.

“I’ve been thinking about this ever since you caught me in the shower,” he confessed, his hands moving up and down, “I wanted to bend you against the tile and take you right there. Ruin you for anyone but me.”

“I wanted that too,” you whispered, “I still want that.”

Boba climbed over you, his weight settling between your hips, his mouth brushing against yours. Your breaths were mingling and you lifted your arms, wrapping them around his neck to keep him as close as possible. “Keep your legs open … yeah that’s good,” the push of his cock inside you made you hiss with the stretch, your body straining to accommodate him, “That’s a good girl for me.”

“Uh-huh,” you whimpered, “Give me a minute, I – you –“

His body stopped moving, his eyes searching your face for any sign of discomfort. Only when you nodded did he push in another inch, slowly, slowly, until there was no air left in your lungs and your pussy was fuller than it had ever been.

“I’m big I know,” he kissed you softly, slowly straightening up until he was kneeling between your legs. “You*re doing such a good job for me, princess, taking all of me.”

When he started to move, you already knew it wouldn’t take long for you to come apart on his cock. He was thick and long and his thrusts had your walls constantly adjusting around him. You would never quite get used to him and that was exactly what you seemingly needed. Your head rested back against the pillow, letting the older man fuck into you with no restraint.

Boba’s fingers rubbed your clit just so, causing your eyelids to flutter. Your legs started aching, trembling. There was nothing you could do but whine into the hot air between you. Boba filled you so completely, it was hard to imagine ever not feeling empty when he wasn’t inside you.

“Aww,” he tutted, his hand cupping your cheek, “Look at you, princess. You’re taking it so well for me. Your hole feels so fucking good. You like being a fleshlight for me, don't you?”

Caught somewhere between shaking your head, nodding eagerly and finding your words, all you managed to do was whine, fighting to keep your eyes open and on him. Boba looked down at you with an intensity that already had you on the edge of coming on his cock.

“Don't be so quiet,” he winked at you, “You sound so good when I'm inside you. So fucking perfect. You're so good at being my dumb little toy.”

Your walls clenched around him at his words, your belly fluttering. A warning sign of what was to come. Or rather who.

“Go ahead,” he mocked you, “You know what to do, little one. Ask me if you can come.”

You pouted, tears threating to spill over your cheeks from overstimulation. He had already fucked you through it once but you could feel it crest again and of course he could, too. His cock drove into you, again and again, hitting a spot that would make you see stars.

“P-please, alpha,” you gasped, “Please can I come?”

“Oh, you’re such a good girl for me, so polite,” he leant forward, his chest pressed against yours until you were properly folded in half. His thumb tugged at your bottom lip in a gesture that was kind of mean but also way too hot for you to complain about, “Yeah, you can come. Come all over my cock, princess. Makes it easier for you to take my knot, hm? And that’s what you want, isn’t it? My thick cock isn’t enough, you want my come and my knot locking it in, huh?”

You were pretty sure your eyes glazed over as yet another climax crashed over you. Your eyes rolled back in your head and for a few second, you only saw blinding white, your fingers gripping him tighter to make sure you were still here. That this was real.

What certainly was real was the sound of him groaning, his shaft pulsing inside you as he came. Something caught at your entrance and your eyes flew open. His knot. That was his knot growing inside you.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he groaned, “Prettiest pussy I ever came in.”

He was still coming though. He filled you and filled your until you were sure it had no other chance but to spill out of you and the thought made you clench, wanting to not lose any piece of him. Thankfully, you did not have to worry about it. His knot was thick enough to keep it all inside.

Both of you completely out of breath, Boba first kissed your lips and then your cheek. You nuzzled into him, craving his touch even more now. Your legs were still trembling on his shoulders and you could feel a numbness starting in your thighs. As if he could sense it, Boba’s hand ran from your hip over the side of your legs, gently pushing it from his shoulder and wrapping it around his hip.

Rolling onto his side, he took you with him and you sighed in relief. Your back was sticky with sweat and the cool air over the skin paired with Boba’s heat to your front soothed you.

“Can we stay like this?” you asked into the quiet, “Can we just … stay?”

“Of course,” he murmured against your forehead, “Anything you want, omega.”

*

Three days later you were kneeling on sticky vinyl flooring, your knees aching from the position, your hands gripping tightly onto fabric and your mouth full of cock.

Boba’s groan was quiet, as if he was biting into his hand, and it only spurred you on further. Your throat ached with the fullness of him and you tried to swallow, your throat constricting around his shaft.

“Fuck, you look so good like that,” he rumbled, his other hand finding the back of your head, gently guiding your forward, “Can you take me deeper, princess? I know you want to. Always so eager to impress, hm?”

You surged forward again, relishing in the heavy feeling of him on your tongue. You knew you most likely looked a mess. There was spit on your chin, threatening to drop into the neckline of your blouse and you were pretty sure your mascara was doing overtime not to smear over your cheeks. None of it bothered you.

The past 72 hours had just been full of … him. Every waking moment you had, you had spent with him. After your night in the hotel, Boba had taken you out for breakfast and a walk in the park before dropping you off at your apartment where Maudii had bombed you with countless questions. By the time lunch rolled around, you had started missing him and he seemed to feel the same because he had texted you then.

When dinner came, so did you – on his mouth.

Saying goodbye this morning was only bearable because you knew you would see him again in time for the game. You had not quite expected to grow so needy for him, desire pulsing through your veins, but when you entered his office, the call sheet for the press interviews in hand, you just needed to see him roll up his sleeves in order to fall to your knees for him.

“My my, you really enjoy this, huh?” he teased you, “My sweet little omega loves to choke on some fat cock any chance she gets. Who would’ve thought? Certainly not my team outside or the press waiting for their interview. They have no idea how starved you are for pleasure, hm?”

Shame burnt your cheeks but the truth of his words made your thighs clench. You took him even deeper, past that point in your throat that usually made you gag. But the sound that left him at that had your eyes flutter closed. There was nothing you would ever enjoy as much as bringing him pleasure.

Boba came with a groan down your throat. Salty, thick spurts of come that you swallowed down as best you could. Both because you wanted to and because you needed to make sure to leave as little evidence of your impromptu rendezvous as possible.

His hands scooped you up under your elbows, gently helping you stand even when your knees protested.

“Thank you,” he grumbled, “I needed that.”

His voice was gentle and soft – so unlike his gruff attitude on game days – and you leaned into him. Boba stood up, immediately wrapping you in a tight hug that had your breath even out and your eyes closing for a few sweet moments. Right now, you could still pretend that everything was just as it should be. That the world outside couldn’t touch you, not when you were in the safety of Boba’s arms.

Your nose twitched. There was that sweet scent again, the vanilla one. Could a person’s smell change? You really enjoyed Boba’s coffee scent, though, would vanilla even fit him?

“Win for me today,” you whispered, brushing your mouth against his, “Please.”

“Careful what you wish for,” his hand squeezed your hip, “If we win today I might become superstitious. Gotta have you in my bed before every game day then.”

You grinned up at him, “Could imagine worse things.”

*

Boba Fett considered himself a patient man. A man in control. More than once had he been praised for his strategic thinking, the way he kept a cool head in a chaotic game or how no question in a press conference caught him off guard. It was something he had learned from his father and perfected it with every year in the league.

Now with his job on the side lines of the game, it became more important than ever to make sure that he would keep calm while his players lost their minds on the ice. He was the captain steering the ship and no ship could use a captain that would spin the wheel based on the emotion of the hour.

There was nothing that could happen that would cause him to lose his cool.

He might have to make an exception for your parents though.

How he had ended up sitting in the owner’s box with you and your parents, he had no idea. His best guess was that he had seen you up there and his heart had pulled up him up the five flights of stairs, despite knowing that he wouldn’t get to touch you or speak to you in front of them.

That had not prepared him for how miserable you looked.

“I heard that one of our players is being awarded for his community engagement,” his boss – your father – mentioned absentmindedly, scrolling on his phone.

Boba nodded, his jaw tight. “Paz Vizsla. He’s a good one, this recognition from the community means a lot to him.”

“Means a lot to us as well,” your father muttered, looking up from his phone to you, “Is the press department doing something with that?”

“Uh, yeah, I thought we could do a post on the –“

Your father shook his head as if he just had an idea of its own. As if you hadn’t said anything at all. “I will ask Pete at our next meeting. Maybe someone can go to the awards ceremony to cover it. It’s important to capitalize on good press.”

Seeing your shoulders fall and your eyes dim was the worst sight in the world. His hands clenched into fists and he took a deep breath. He missed the vanilla scent. Now all he got as was cold air, full of people that weren’t you. 

“I think you should come, too, darling,” your mother turned to you, “Don’t you think? Meet some new faces. Some new connections might just be what you need!”

Stars above, how much longer could he manage to just sit there without yelling at them to just open their eyes and see you for the wonderful person that you were? It was crystal clear what she meant by new connections and he had half a mind to assure her that you needed no connections at all because you had met him and he intended to spend the rest of his life making you happy. Something that they very clearly had not prioritized yet.

Your eyes met his for just a second. Yet it was long enough to see your sadness and even a little bit of frustration.

“I already went out with Berenson and it was nothing, mom,” you reminded her, “Don’t you remember?”

“Oh, hush now,” she tutted, “You enjoy dancing, too, and I am sure there will be lots of dancing there. Mr Fett has surely been there a few times and can confirm that it’s lots of fun. Right, Mr Fett?”

It was difficult to hide his smile when the older woman looked at him imploringly. Like they were both on the same team to get you to the awards ceremony. And technically, they were. Just for very different reasons.

“Yeah, I will go next week, too,” he looked at you, careful to keep his voice neutral, “It’s lots of fun for the younger people and there is dancing every time.”

At younger people, he spotted you squirm and his smile evolved into a full-on smirk then. There was little that brought him as much joy as flustering you. It offered a hint of the real you, a look behind the mask you so carefully put on in front of people you didn’t want to disappoint.

Somewhere along the line, it had become his mission to get you to drop that mask for him. There was no way you could disappoint him. He knew that. Now he just needed you to know that.

“Very well then,” you murmured, though he could smell the faint hint of vanilla, “I will go to that ceremony if it’s so important to you, mom.”

“See!” your mother clapped her hands, “Was that so hard, darling? Now if you would excuse us, Mr Fett, we have a dress to buy.”

And he could not wait to see you in it.

You had worked a long time to fight against the constant feeling of unease and had managed to suppress it for the last few months, ever since you had started your paid internship in the press/marketing department of the local ice hockey team.

Still chewing, your friend pointed to the headline on the newspaper she had brought with you. “We got a new owner. Some private investments company or something.”

Maudii continued to talk but you did not continue to listen. Mandalorian Minotaurs Taken Over By Media Giant!!! Was printed in large letters, right there on the paper. It wasn’t that headline in particular that had your heart stopping but the fact that it was your last name staring back at you from the title page.

Or, to be more accurate, your father’s last name.

“I have to go,” you stood up, feeling faint, “To … the bathroom.”

And off you went.

At least you weren’t lying. You were going to the bathroom. Just not the closest one.

The Minotaur headquarters were situated in their own arena. A large building in the middle of the city, its insides resembled more a maze than anything else but it had become familiar to you in the last few months. Ever since you had finally managed to finish your postgraduate degree – without dipping into your trust fund – you had sought out job opportunities that would put you as far away as possible from the family business on the east coast. A hockey team in a random city on the other side of the country had seemed like a safe bet.

Now all you had ended up doing was losing the one little corner where your parents had left you in peace.

Practice was done for today already, so you allowed yourself to venture into the lower levels, hurrying down the stairs until your legs were burning and the hardwood floors switched into durable light grey vinyl flooring. Passing through the metal door in the stairway, you ended up in a hallway that was painted a stark white.

Team photos from the past few decades accompanied you on your way down the hall. By now, your heart was pounding so hard in your chest, it was all you could do not to sink to your knees in plain sight. The wall was interrupted by a door and yeah, your sight might have been blurry, but you would recognize the little white stick figure anywhere.

Sanctuary.

Deep breaths, you tried to encourage yourself, deep breaths. In an out. In. And out. All will be well.

The door swung closed behind you and you rested your hand against the tiled wall. It was cool to the touch and you bent over, trying to regulate your breathing to no avail. Maybe some water would help?

Giant mirrors covered the wall over the sinks. The aesthetic of this room could be best described as 1980’s high school locker room chic, some of the tiles were chipped and you could see rust on the fittings. It wasn’t the best maintained room which is why it had quickly become your escape when you needed a place to breathe way from everyone else. Knowing that this secret space existed, just waiting for you to seek it out, had done wonders for staving off any panic attacks during your first few weeks here.

Although you had grown more confident in your position, it did not change the fact that – right now – you could not stand to look at yourself. Facing yourself would mean facing a lot of truths and fears you had run away from the past few years and it would not help that you looked like a mess. And felt like one, too.

With ignoring the sinks seeming like the better option, you rounded the corner to the showers. Either the quiet, tiled space would make you feel calm and settled or like you were in an 80’s horror flick version of an insane asylum.

Only, the space wasn’t quiet.

Your eyes followed the puddle of water and landed on two bare feet.

How odd, that would mean that somebody was standing –

Somebody way standing there.

Naked.

There was water coming out of the fixed showerhead, steam filling the room and your eyes widened in panic. How had you not noticed that? How had your head been so preoccupied with your approaching panic attack that you hadn’t noticed that you were not alone?

And not just alone with anybody. You would recognize that scent – woodsy with a hint of coffee – anywhere and even if you didn’t, the shape of his broad shoulders would betray him. Boba fucking Fett was standing with his back to you. Retired hockey legend and recently announced coach for the Mandalorian Minotaurs.

One forearm was braced against the tiles, his other arm was covered by his body but you could see it moving, almost as if –

Fuck.

Your cheeks blazed with heat at the realization that Boba Fett, national treasure and former captain of the Tuskan Raiders, was jerking off. This was probably the moment where normal people would (1) quietly disappear or (2) apologize loudly and then disappear.

You did neither.

No, you just stood there, your eyes raking over his form, taking in the sight of him. And what a sight it was. He was all muscles and fat and breadth. Thick. Sturdy. A man who no longer had to keep up with his physique for his career but who was still strong as fuck. There was a tattoo on his shoulder blade that seemed to wrap towards his chest too, his ass was exquisite and his thighs were trunks and –

Stars, you needed to leave right now.

He groaned and the deep sound reverberated through your entire body. You could feel a gush of wetness between your thighs, the arousal covering your panic for just a moment. You liked men who were vocal during sex, there was just something about it that made your blood thrum. Maybe because you were always quiet? A ying to your yang?

Your last boyfriend, Dreks, back in college, had just rolled his eyes at your quiet comment that it made you feel good to hear him. “Why do you wanna hear me if you barely get your mouth open, hm?” he had asked and closed that part of the conversation for the rest of your relationship. Somehow, you had the feeling that this problem would not occur with Boba Fett.

As if he could sense you thinking about him, his face turned. Brown eyes found yours immediately and you could see them widen in surprise for just a moment. But the water didn’t stop beating down his back and his hand didn’t stop stroking .

His eyes fixed you where you stood. You had never felt more like caged prey, being eyed by a predator. Although prey usually wanted to escape. You didn’t know what you wanted. Maybe you wanted to step closer, actually.

“Came for a show?” he asked, his mouth forming an amused smile. One that you were sure would haunt you in your dreams.

You swallowed thickly, desperately trying to find words to answer him. You needed to do something. You needed to apologize. You needed to leave. You needed to quit your job and hope your parents would not find you where you escaped to next.

Instead, your feet remained rooted to the floor. The sound of water hitting the tiles echoed in the room, it was almost loud enough to cover your heavy breathing and racing heartbeat. The steam wasn’t enough to cover his scent, though, or yours. Maybe it even emphasized it like some kind of diffuser. All you could smell was him.

Boba Fett was unfairly handsome for a man his age. For a man of any age, really. Now that you thought about it, you didn’t even know how old he was. Probably too old for you, although when had that ever stopped your brain from conjuring up the filthiest fantasies with a man old enough to be your father?

And then, as if you had not suffered enough, he fully turned around to face you.

It was as if the universe was giving you another chance to do what was right. To turn around. Avert your eyes. Apologize for the misunderstanding (whatever that was) and leave.

Instead you opted for the inappropriate option. His arms flexed with muscles, strength hidden under a layer of softness that made you want to touch him. Water was running down his chest, soaking the hairy trail leading to where he was squeezing his thick girth. How in the world could a cock be beautiful? He was long, thick – thicker than anything you had seen before – and the mushroom tip had a little drop of precome on it that made you want to sink to your knees.

His fingers squeezed his base and you could see the hint of his knot forming. He was close. He was so close and you were just a step away. Fuck, would it be an option to just ask him nicely if you could join him?

You wanted nothing more than to wash away the panic and anxiety and the racing thoughts and focus on something pleasant. Something warm. Like another body. Another pair of hands. Another pair of lips that would whisper sweet and filthy nothings into your ear until you were no longer the failed daughter of a media giant but instead the desired omega who did such a good job taking this big co-

Spooked by your own thoughts, you suddenly realized what you were doing. You were standing in a team bathroom – a room where you had no business being in the first place – and had walked in on the coach, naked. And instead of leaving him in peace, you were looking at his cock like your mouth was begging to have him between your lips. That was at least 25 HR violations.

Oh, you were so fired.

“Sorry, alpha,” you squeaked out and then finally your body moved, turning around and hurrying out of the bathroom, down the hallway, out of the arena, and straight to your apartment.

*

“So how big is he?”

“I am sorry I just told you my father is the CEO of one of the biggest companies in the country and most likely bought this team just to spite me and you ask about the coach’s dick?”

“Well yes,” Maudii shrugged, picking up another piece of pasta from her plate. You had needed to sniff the pesto to see whether it was still good but both of you had determined that the sauce was still edible. “Because you also told me you saw the Boba Fett naked and jerking off. So forgive a girl for focussing on the really important things.”

You had focussed on them more than you’d like to admit but you didn’t tell her that.

“He was … adequate.”

“Adequate?” she raised her eyebrows, “I don’t believe a word you say. You have a crush on that man ever since he was introduced this season. Hell, you’re even the one who volunteered to discuss which player we send to the press before each home game. A job so hated, they usually pull straws for it!”

“I don’t have a crush,” you mumbled, your fork scraping over your plate, “And he is not that bad. Just …. Strict. Focussed, I guess. And today I was just … surprised.”

“You didn’t even tell me why you were down there in the first place.”

You shifted on the loveseat you were currently sharing. One day maybe you were in a position to get a bigger couch or squeeze an armchair into your cramped living room. “It’s my … safe space.”

“From what?”

“Everything,” you shrugged, feeling the all familiar-shame rise up in you, “Sometimes, things get a bit too much and I need to go somewhere quiet. That bathroom is usually empty.”

“And this time it was too much because ….“

You rolled your eyes, unable to keep your mouth from quirking up. Maudii was the kind of friend who would never let you lie to yourself. In another time, she would have made for a great therapist.

“Because I spent the last four years trying to distance myself from my parents and pay for my own way. And I thought I managed to do that until I found out my dad bought the sports team which means they won’t leave me to my own devices.”

She nodded, washing down her bite of pasta with a sip of soda. “And then you fled to your safe space where you saw your crush buck naked and jerking off and yet all you say about him is that he was” – she drew bunny ears in the air – “adequate …. but okay. I will let you keep your secrets. Now, what are we gonna do about your dad?”

Now that was a question you didn’t have an answer to.

*

Turns out, it didn’t even matter what your answer to that question would have been. Because, like it had happened so often before, your father had already made his move.

The sun was just starting to rise above the city skyline when you set your stuff down on your desk. Your mental to do list was already figured out and your fingers were itching to write it down on a sticky note and make your way through the day, one task at a time.

But as soon as your computer booted up, you were hit with an appointment reminder.

Meeting, Small Conference Room

That was all you needed to see to know that your father had found you. And it was all you needed to see for your day to completely derail. How could you focus on interview prompts and photoshoot schedules when you would meet your father in less than an hour and most likely would have to defend every life choice you ever made?

Before you knew it, you were crossing the threshold to the meeting that had your heart racing. The small conference room wasn’t really that small. It was just smaller but with only two people in it, one of them often described as the land’s most influential man, it felt gigantic. Like an ocean was parting you from one of the people who had known you the longest. Only that the ocean was a long, long table.

“Hi dad.”

“Hi darling,” he pressed a kiss to your cheek, “Long time, no see. Sit.”

You sat down opposite him. It was clear where had set up his office, there were papers strewn across the surface and a few to go coffee cups. You wondered where his assistant, Briggs, had wandered off to. Probably to get more coffee.

“Yeah, I’ve been … busy, you know.”

He just hummed, not really acknowledging what you said. “Your mother worries. You could’ve called.”

“I did,” you reminded him, “Last Christmas. And for your birthdays. And mine.”

“Four phone calls are nothing.”

You weren’t brave enough to point out that they could have called you, too. Sitting opposite him, you felt like you were eight years old again, gathering the courage to tell him that you didn’t care for the riding lessons, you’d much rather join the swimming club. The only difference was that eight-year-old you hadn’t known yet that it didn’t matter what you wanted.

“You knew where I was the entire time, I told you you were welcome to visit me,” you swallowed, “I, uh, I graduated last summer, like I told you.”

They had not showed up for your graduation. A fact that you had spent months preparing yourself for. When the seats you had reserved for them up to the last minute were still empty by the time you received your certificate, your heart still cracked.

“And now we are here,” he sighed like he was already tired of his stint in Mandalore, “What is it you do here anyway?”

This was it. This was your moment to shine. To show him what you had been up to ever since you had left Coruscant behind. To show off the purpose of your work and the happiness your life here brought you.

“I work in the administrative branch of the team,” you explained, your heart swelling with pride, “I am currently doing an internship in the press –“

“Internship,” he scoffed, “You could have had a managing position already with all the bells and whistles that you want.”

“I told you I don’t want –“

“Your refusal to take advantage of the family business is admirable,” he interrupted you again and your jaw clenched, “But you and I both know that the sports world is no place for an omega like yourself. What would our friends think, seeing you working for some mediocre sports team? You’re throwing your life away for some quest for independence that won’t matter in ten years.”

“That’s not true,” you protested quietly, your hands clenching, “We could win the cup this season and I have a lot of fun here and – and I do a good job. My boss told me there is a good chance they will be hiring when my internship is over and –“

“I am the one who decides when and who they will be hiring,” your father snapped. His eyes were hard and you shrunk into your seat. “Your mother is worried, sweetheart, and the sooner you realize that all we want is to see you succeed, the better prepared you will be to return to the capital.”

Tears stung in your eyes. The most frustrating part was that you knew he meant well. Both your parents did everything out of love for you, you knew that, even if that was oftentimes hard to recognize. Yet. it did not take away from the fact that they had no clue what it was you wanted in life. Their definition of success was just that: theirs.

You had spent years of your life coming to that conclusion, would it take just as long for you to finally free yourself from the weight of their judgement?

Pondering just that (and trying to keep the tears at bay), you didn’t notice the door cracking open and another person joining you. Only when the scent of woods and coffee grounds drifted through the air, did you realize that it was none other than –

“This is Coach Fett,” your father smiled like he had not just destroyed your confidence and future plans in one sentence, “I have asked him to join us. Come in, Boba. This is my daughter, I am sure you’ve met.”

Boba Fett was dressed a bit more casual than usual, wearing dark grey slacks and a white button down that glowed bright under the fluorescent lights. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing veiny forearms and you tried to focus on whether or not you could see his tattoo through the fabric of his shirt.

(The answer, sadly, was no.)

“I believe so,” he approached you confidently, a twinkle in his eyes when he held out his large hand for you to shake, “Still, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

You felt small in his grip, drawing comfort from the warm, solid contact, before he sat down at the head of the table. Right between you and your father.

The universe was laughing at you, you were sure of it.

“So … why am I here?” Boba asked, completely light hearted, “Kept me from putting on a show for the boys downstairs.”

You knew it was meant as a joke. He was talking about the team and practice and hockey, not about the show he had offered to put on for you last week. Stars, had it really only been a week since then? You felt like you had aged at least three years in that time.

He probably hardly remembered. He didn’t spend his sleepless nights thinking about it like you did.

“My daughter is of the opinion that an internship in this team is the best use of her time,” your father’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. He was looking at the coach intently, almost like they were both in on the same joke. The joke being you.

Boba’s face hardened and you watched as he shifted in his seat, straightening his back. “Why wouldn’t it be?” he asked back, “We’re the most successful team on the West Coast, we have good chances at the Cup this season and the press department has been an excellent starting board for a few sports journalist.”

Silence.

That was all that followed.

You couldn’t remember the last time someone had openly opposed your dad and gotten away with it. Judging from the sour expression on his face, neither did he. But Boba Fett also wasn’t the kind of man you could speak down to like your father spoke to you. They were roughly (maybe?) the same age, successful in their own right and you knew one of the most important things to consider after a takeover was not to antagonize the staff.

“Be that as it may,” your father cleared his throat, “Her time here is short with her internship ending soon.” Your heart started to race again and you looked around, trying to see if there was a glass of water standing around anywhere. “And her mother and I want to make sure that she doesn’t embarrass our good name –“

“I am sure she won’t.”

“– so I would be very grateful if you could keep an eye on her when we can’t.”

You should be used enough to your parents’ antics that nothing should surprise you anymore.

But hiring the Boba Fett to keep an eye on you. That was a new low.

Worse than that was the incredulous expression on his face. He didn’t seem enthusiastic about it at all. And who could possibly blame him? Not only had your father basically degraded him to the job of babysitter, it also implied that you weren’t good at your job.

“Consider it done.”

The words had your shoulders falling and you stared at the woodgrain on the table. You didn’t know what felt worse: That your parents were meddling again, that they involved Boba in it or that Boba seemed to believe them.

Your dad clapped his hands together once, a sign you knew meant that you were dismissed. “That sounds good. Thanks, Fett. Now I will let you both do what it is that you do.”

As you stood up, Boba caught your gaze and your cheeks flushed, feeling completely embarrassed and undermined.

“Goodbye, sweetheart.”

“Bye, dad,” you bent down to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Don’t forget to call.”

“I won’t.”

And with that you and Boba were out in the hallway like you had just been sent out by the principal. It was barely ten in the morning and this was already the worst day of the week. Hell, the worst day of the entire month.

When the alpha next to you didn’t move away but remained standing next to you, you allowed yourself two things. One, to breathe in his scent and let it calm down your racing heart. Maybe you should invest in a coffee scented candle if it helped with your anxiety this much? Two, to actually speak to him.

“I’m – I’m sorry about that,” you started, “My father has a way of getting into people’s business without really meaning to.”

“Well, I meant I wasn’t expecting to get showered with praise,” he winked at you, “But I’ll be thankful that I have an excuse to talk to you more, pretty omega.”

Your eyes widened with realization when he walked away from you. He definitely remembered.

*

The coach’s office was by some considered a small room but compared to your cubicle upstairs it was as spacious as the ice rink itself. With Boba Fett standing in the room, though, it felt like there was no place to stand in which you weren’t in danger of touching him.

Which was bad, if you wanted to be mad at him.

“Okay, this needs to stop.”

“What needs to stop?” He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against the edge of his desk. If you weren’t so furious you might have appreciated the way the fabric stretched over his broad chest or how the silver watch on his wrist made his hands look even thicker. His entire game day outfit belonged in the trash, or on the floor. Anywhere but on his body, really.

“You cannot just keep teasing me every time we see each other. This has been going on for weeks now, you making comment about getting or putting on a show or showers or … or anything really!” You threw your hands up, your pulse racing, “This is my place of work and I am tired of people not taking me seriously, including you. Yes, okay, I saw you in the shower and I had no business being there anyway and sure, I might have looked way more than I should have and interrupted you doing something very … intimate. But isn’t it enough that I can barely meet your eyes as is? Do you have to remind of it every single time we see each other? My father ordered you to look out for which I am still very sorry, by the way, but I am trying my best and I cannot do my best if I am constantly reminded of your … your, uh …”

You trailed off, heat rising into your cheeks because why could you not stop thinking about his cock?

Sensing a new opportunity to fluster you, Boba leant forward, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “My what?” he asked, “Go on, say it, pretty ‘mega. Gives me something to think about at night.”

“That! That is what I mean!” you accused him, your finger meeting his chest and he laughed. Your chest rose and fell with strenuous breaths and you felt winded, like a balloon that had been popped. You were just … here. Boba, on the other hand, was still the epitome of smugness.

“That everything, princess?”

You huffed, moving to cross your arms over your chest but he stopped you. As if in slow motion, you watched as one large hand landed on yours, keeping it on his chest. Your fingers flattened and you could feel his heat … and his strong heartbeat.

“What is that supposed to mean?” you glared up at him.

Boba leant back again, still holding you, and you followed until you were standing right between his legs, cradled in by him. Close enough to smell the mix of his aftershave and the coffee scent that haunted your dreams.

“Just wanted to let you get it all out before I bend you over this table.”

You did not know whether to be angry at him or ashamed at the images that immediately flooded your mind at his words. Your body decided on the not-so-secret third option and focussed on the arousal that spread through you, gathering between your legs. “And what in the world would ever make you think that I would let you, Coach Fett?”

Boba rose to his full height, then. Breadth, too. He was a large man and sometimes people forgot about that when they talked about the giants of the team like Paz Vizsla. But right here, right now, it was Boba Fett who just took up every one of your senses. He was all you could see, all you could smell, stars, even all you could taste. You wondered if his taste would be stronger if you were to put your mouth on the scent gland on his neck …

No damnit, you were supposed to be mad at him!

And, in a way, you were mad. Just not about the things you were talking about. You were mad that he looked through you so easily. You were mad that even when you tried to intimidate him, he did not shy away from pulling you closer. You were mad that his proximity, the one he so casually coaxed out of you, made you feel safer and more seen than ever before. And you were mad that you did not even have to tell him that. He already knew.

With one infuriatingly smooth move, he turned you both around. His grip on you tightened and your breath hitched when you felt the edge of the table digging into the back of your thighs.

“Because I can smell you dripping right through those little panties you've got on, sweetheart.”

You bit your lip and watched Boba’s eyes darken at the move. Something flashed in your mind, an idea, a desire, so strong, it would have knocked you off your feet if it had not been for the hand on yours. This was the worst – or possibly best – idea you ever had.

“Who says I am wearing panties?”

“I do, princess.”

“Oh?”

He hummed, the sound reminding you of the groan he had let out in the shower, and suddenly your skin felt too tight for your body. It got even worse when his face got so close, his nose touched yours. “Because if you’re telling me right now that you’re not wearing any panties under that pretty dress of yours, there is no way you’ll leave this office without my come dripping down your thighs.”

Your breath hitched at the image. Was that a promise? Why did you want it to be a promise? Stars, this was game day. His team was outside. You needed to leave, you needed to distance yourself from this man who had snuck his way into your filthiest daydreams. You needed to not ask him any more questions.

“What makes you think I would let you?” you breathed out, searching his eyes for … something. For confirmation, maybe, that this affected him just as much as it affected you.

“Because I think you are used to being in a room where people overlook you,” he rumbled, his scent washing over you, “But I do not overlook you. Nor do I underestimate you. I see you, omega, and I don’t know if you need someone to challenge or pamper you. This is me finding out.”

The raw honesty surprised you. Brain running through option of what you could say without exposing yourself.

Pamper me! Your brain screamed. Take care of me, please!

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you swallowed heavily, “Somebody – somebody could see.”

“Let them,” he replied easily, his mouth brushing over yours in the lightest of kisses. “Because I think, omega, we absolutely should be doing this.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” And then he kissed you.

His mouth was on yours and your eyes fluttered shut. Everything in you was tense, a string pulled taut and the only thing that could release you was his touch. You could not remember the last time a kiss had taken you up so completely.

Boba let go off your hand but you still kept in on his chest, feeling his heartbeat speed up under your touch. His hands framed your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks so gently, you felt like the most precious thing in the world. When his tongue brushed over your mouth, you opened up for him, letting your tongues meet and revelling in the delicious feeling of his stubbled chin against yours.

The urge to get closer grew stronger and you lifted your hand to the back of his neck, trying to pull him to you.

But Boba Fett was not a man easily moved. If anything, he moved you.

“Up,” he ordered against your mouth, his hips grinding against yours. A shot of electricity ran down your spine when you felt him heard and heavy between your legs. Arching your back, you wiggled up onto his desk and spread your legs.

“Good girl,” he praised you, “Opening her legs for me without having to ask.”

Never in your life did you think a compliment – a filthy one at that – would have your panties wet. Yet here you were, feeling positive that if he were to look now, there was no way he wouldn’t notice the wet patch on the grey fabric.

His hand landed on your thigh, gently pushing it to the side, spreading you even more and you kissed him again. You could spend all day just like this, being touched by this man, kissed by him, thinking of nothing else but how good he felt against you.

A knock on the door made you flinch and Boba pulled away.

“Coach, are you there?” That was Berenson. “Vizsla and I had a question about that play you wanted us to try out.”

“Be there in a minute!” he called out, his voice rough.

Your lips felt swollen and your nipples were aching, rubbing against the inside of your bra and not his chest hair. Had that really happened? Had you really just kissed him?

“Give me your phone,” he said quietly. He took a step away from you and your legs immediately snapped shut. To hide yourself from his gaze or try and get some pressure on your clit, you did not know. What you did know was that you handed him your phone without question and that when your fingers brushed against his, there still was that spark that ran over your skin.

“What are you doing?” you asked,

“Putting my number in,” he explained, his large fingers deftly moving over the screen, “And when this game is won, I want you to text me your favourite coffee place.”

“Why?”

“So that we can meet for coffee,” he said as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Your phone landed back in your hand and your eyes slid to the prominent bulge in his pants. He was hard. You had made him hard. Stars, would he spend the whole game just like that? “And so that I can pamper you the way you need. Because that’s what you need, isn’t it? You need someone on your side, princess, and to take care of you the way you need.”

Blinking, you looked up at him in surprise. How had he –

“See?” he winked at you, “We definitely should be doing this.”

And blood they had seen when he threw some punches and pulled opposed players away from his teammates. Sure, he had gotten to assist in one goal, too, which was nice. But that was not why people wanted to see him, usually.

He was the big bad alpha that cleaned up the field. That made sure his teammates were free to dominate the game without the opposing teams trying to tackle them to the ground. He was the enforcer, the bodyguard. The fighting guy.

Now he was sitting in the locker room, legs spread, elbows resting on his knees, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to calm down. His fingers flexed, itching to rub the chain on his neck between his fingers. He usually kept it under his clothes, trying to keep the metal as close to him as possible but today he was restless.

And it did not help that his coach spoke in riddles he could not understand.

“What’re you talking about?” he asked his old idol-turned-coach.

Boba Fett just grinned. Dressed in a suit for each game, the last hours had him shed his jacket and roll up the sleeves of his white button down. It was still difficult to reconcile the image of his Coach Boba Fett with Fett #64, one of the most successful players for the Tuskan Raiders. Stars, he had had a poster of this man in his bedroom when he was small.

“You know exactly who I am talking about considering you kept watching her whenever you were on the bench,” the older man replied easily, clearly amused by him, “And who could blame you? You’ve got yourself a pretty one, Vizsla.”

His fists clenched. It was obvious that Boba was trying to taunt him, to get him out of his shell. So why, if he could already sense that this was a test, did Paz still have the desire to punch his boss for talking about you like this?

For a moment, he thought himself to be saved when Din plopped down next to him, freshly showered and gathering his belongings in a bag. “You’ve been besotted with her ever since Chants introduced you,” his friend nudged his shoulder, “I can’t believe you still pretend you’re not in love with her.”

Love.

The word made Paz stiffen just as your face flashed in his mind. It was true that he had looked at you a few times during the game. The rowdy energy made you nervous, even though you did your best to cheer for the team. But with everyone on edge today, he had wanted to make sure that you were okay. That you did not get swept up in some of the fights that sometimes broke out between fans.

Thank the stars that had not happened today. He still was not sure what he would have done in that case. Interrupting the game and jumping into the fight to get you out of there safe and sound was the most likely answer. One that he tried very hard to ignore.

But love? Love was a big word. Love was something he couldn’t offer without serious repercussions. Love would never be in the cards for someone like him.

“That’s not true.”

“Yeah, it is and you know it,” Din was unimpressed, “The only omega you ever talk about is her and I don’t know if you noticed but you talk about her a lot, Paz. I don’t know why you refuse to acknowledge it. Stars, you had me text Chants mid-game to get her some painkillers because you could feel her pain across the ice.”

The memory burned in his chest. That day had been rough. He had hardly slept the night before and when he had spotted you in the stands, he was angry at Chants for not noticing how obviously in pain you were. He had steered the game to the zone behind the net more times than he could count to be closer to you, to check up on you, until Fett had pulled him aside during a break and told him to knock it off.

Getting the painkillers to you was the least he could do and even then, there was no stopping the worry for you. It had started the second he had first put eyes on you and he would carry it with him to his deathbed, of that he was sure.

“You know why I have to keep away from her,” Paz muttered, running his hand over his stubble.

“I know why you think you have to keep away from her,” his friend scoffed, shouldering his bag as he made to leave, “I also know why what you think is bullshit. Face the facts, Vizsla, you cannot outrun your own feelings without hurting her in the process. And I know for a fact that hurting her is the last thing you want to do.”

*

“You’re hurt,” Paz said, his teeth clenching so hard he was sure he would give himself a tension migraine within the minute.

You were sitting in front of him, right on the ice, as people skated all around you.

When Din had mentioned in passing that you and Chants would join the Open Rink Tuesday today, Paz’s plan of lying on the couch after a gruesome practice had evaporated into thin air. Instead, he had found himself joining his friend on the drive to the local ice rink that had been set up in the park for the winter season.

Not wanting to pull too much attention to himself, he had stayed away from the crowd, just doing a few laps here and there. Most of the time, he had been busy watching you from afar anyway.

You had gotten a little better, a little braver, and he could not help the smile on his face when you had waved Chants off and instead started to skate all on your own. True, it was at a snail’s pace but you stuck to the empty spots and you looked so proud, so happy, it was like his heart could not help but reciprocate.

That is, until some idiot skated past you way too close, causing you to lose your balance and falling before he could race to catch you. The sound of you landing on the ice echoed in his head even now.

Now he was kneeling in front of you, trying to control the rage that simmered in his chest.

You were hurt. And it had happened on his watch.

He wanted to punch himself as much as the guy who had continued skating without a care in the world. People had rushed in to help you but the glare on his face must have been as menacing as he felt because they disappeared without a word.

A soft hand landed on his and he snapped out of his thoughts.

“I am fine,” you assured him, “I just took a tumble.”

Just a tumble.

He wanted to argue that it was not just a tumble. That you could have bruised your tailbone and that it hurt like hell or that you were lucky that you had not hit your head or that he could only get his chest to loosen up if he carried you to his own bed and let you build a nest right there.

Don’t think of her in your bed, idiot, you’re making it worse.

Stars, he really was making it so much worse. You probably didn’t even want him here. You were a grown adult, you could take care of yourself, you didn’t need a massive alpha fussing over you when he couldn’t even make sure you were protected.

“Sorry,” he muttered, standing back up, “Don’t want to scare you.”

“You scare me more when you leave.”

His step froze. What did you just say?

“You – It scares me when you leave me alone,” your voice was quiet but not quiet enough for him to mishear anything you were saying, “I know it’s silly but – could you stay?”

“Course mega,” he sank to his knees without question. His hand gently closed around your ankle, the one who had buckled first, and expertly pressed it, gauging your reaction.

“What did you mean by that?” you asked instead, “That you don’t want to scare me?

“Have you seen me, sweetheart?” he muttered, relieved when nothing seemed to bring an immediate reaction of pain, “I am a big motherfucker and when I get angry, it’s worse. Scaring others is good on the ice but I know not everyone signed up for that. You certainly didn’t sign up for that.”

“You seem to forget that I’ve seen you up close,” you reminded him gently, wincing when he slowly rotated your foot to the right. It was definitely swollen. But not broken. Thank the stars or else he would have to hunt that guy down. “I had your hands on me before.”

Nothing in the world would ever make him forget the seven minutes he got to spend in that closet with you. He would forever remember the heat in your eyes, your scent in his nostrils and how soft your skin had been under his touch. Still –

“That was different.”

“How?”

“Because it didn’t mean anything,” he said, looking up, searching your eyes for the same despair he felt whenever you were near him, “Right? That’s what you said.”

“Right,” you whispered. Your gaze dropped to where his hand was still on your ankle. “Will you help me up?”

He did so with a tug of his hand and no one would ever get him to admit that he held your hand for just a moment longer than strictly necessary. You did not seem to mind, though. In fact, your hand even squeezed his and before he knew it, he squeezed it right back.

The shy smile on your face made his heart stutter. “You might be big, Paz Vizsla,” you said, “But you are not scary. Not to me.”

And that was exactly what he was afraid of.

*

“You know the rule, boys,” Boba’s voice called through the locker room, “No partner visits before a game. And there is no exception for fiancées.”

Djarin rolled his eyes and made no move to step away from Chants who had snuck in for a good luck kiss.

“You just had that pretty Omega intern in your office, Coach,” Berenson called from his place on the bench, already half-dressed, “Don’t the rules apply to you?”

The look Boba threw his teammate was positively menacing and Paz was surprised that Berenson did not fall dead on the spot.

“She is not my partner,” the older man corrected them, his grip tight on the clipboard, “Now get dressed and get on the ice before I make you skate suicides and bench you for the rest of the game.”

“And sneaking around with the owner’s daughter probably doesn’t bring good luck either,” Chants whispered conspiratorially and Paz bit back his laugh. Din grabbed his fiancée by the back of his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

Silence covered the entire room as everyone got ready for the game. Paz focussed on tying his skates, pondering if he would get a chance to see you today. If Chants was here, chances were good that he wasn’t here alone. And if he wasn’t here alone, chances were even better that you were with him.

“Are you coming to the awards ceremony, too?” Chants turned to ask him just as he was about to leave, “It’s in two weeks and I think Din would enjoy it much more with a friend there.”

“He is getting an award,” Din interjected, throwing him a look, “Of course, he’ll be there.”

This was it. This was his chance.

“Is, uh, is your friend bringing a date?”

Chants eyed him, completely unimpressed. “She is not. You should ask her out if you want to.”

Paz cursed himself immediately. There was no way he was going to do that. But knowing that you weren’t going out with Berenson again (or anyone else, for that matter) let peace wash over him even if just for a moment.

He tried to channel that peace while he finished getting ready. While he made his way to the ice, the roaring of the crowd in his ears. He even tried to channel it during warm-ups.

His peace lasted all of five minutes because that’s when he spotted you. Cheering in the front row, you were standing next to Chants and, more importantly, you were wearing a dark blue jersey. For a moment, he imagined it was his jersey you were wearing and his blood roared in his ears.

Switching his stick from left to right, he skated past you, making sure you saw him when he tapped his helmet in greeting. The moment you recognized him was marked by the blinding smile on your face that felt like a punch to his chest. You were happy to see him. And he was happy to see you, always happy to see you, he realized.

Something in his chest gave away, probably one of the walls he’d erected the moment he heard some devastating words years ago. And now he could allow himself to be happy now that you were happy.

Suddenly, he wanted to win more than anything.

He also wanted his name and number on the jersey you were wearing.

And his bite mark on your neck.

But all of that was a problem for future Paz. The moment the whistle marked the beginning of the game, he could focus on what he could control. He would bring a win home tonight. For you.

The game was a shit show. The Tuskan Raiders hadn’t come to lose and he had to get into a fight more than once, ripping opposing players off his team mates or slamming into them in the fight for the puck.

Gazos (#15 of the Tuskan Raiders) rammed into him when Paz interjected a pass. The plexiglass wobbled and he could hear the crowd cheer in excitement. The helmet kept him from getting his cheek squished against the glass but he still didn’t like it. Until he spotted you. You were standing right in front of him, your eyes wide with fear and shock.

Paz could not help himself. He winked at you. And the flustered look on your face was totally worth the pain when his opponent pushed him harder against the wall.

Gazos must have noticed the interaction because he leant in close. “Don’t think the puck bunny will be interested when she sees how pathetic you are when you lose. But don’t worry, I will take good care of her if she needs to come on a victorious knot tonight.”

He did not know what ticked him off more. That Gazos wanted to sleep with you and implied that you were a puck bunny in the same sentence. Or the worry on your face for him.

Both were unacceptable, he decided, and threw his head back, turning so he could push Gazos away from him. Fists were soon flying and before long, the whistle blew and he was sent off to the penalty box. Paz did not mind, though. Not when Boba nodded at him in understanding and certainly not when your eyes did not leave him for one second, staring at him from across the field.

Your gaze on him felt like a warm blanket. Reassuring, comforting and something he wanted to keep at all costs.

He played the game knowing you were watching him and he won the game knowing you were watching him. Even on his way from the ice, after some rough hugs with his team mates, he passed you, sending you another wink that you returned with a little wave.

The wave made his heart feel fuller than the three points they had scored combined.

His heart was still full by the time he left the shower and found Chants and you standing in front of the locker room.

“Good game, babe,” Chants kissed his fiancée, “We were cheering you on the entire time.”

“I saw you. Love that cap you wear by the way, is that my name?”

“It is, do you like it?”

Paz always marvelled at the fact that Din seemed to forget anything and everything around him whenever Chants was in the room. Even now, he was standing next to his best friend and he only had eyes for his event planning fiancée.

Then again, he couldn’t even join their conversation if he wanted to because he kept noticing that you were shifting from one foot to the other. You were clearly nervous about something.

“You, uh, are you okay?” you asked, pointing to your own chin, “That Gazos guy punched you hard. I could see the blood flying from my seat.”

“Tis just a scratch,” he pointed to the stitch on his jaw, trying to prove to you that he was fine, but you still winced. The odd thought occurred to him that maybe you were worried for him, not like a friend of your friend’s fiancée but as something more. He shook this thought away as quickly as he could. A sweet omega like you would never worry for him, especially not after the way he had treated you. He didn’t know where he had gotten that idea from.

“Okay,” you replied, your brows still pulled together in a frown, “That … that was a good game.”

“We had good people rooting for us,” he returned, “I like your jersey.”

Your hand laded on the hem of the standard merch jersey, carefully pulling it away from you. “Really?” you asked, unsure, “Chants gave it to me, I wasn’t sure if it’d be too much or …”

“Not too much,” he interrupted you gently, “You … you look great.”

He could smell your scent getting stronger. The spring flowers bloomed in his nose and in his chest and he fought very hard not to close his eyes and run his nose over your hairline. It was the most beautiful thing to witness, you smiling at him.

“C’mon, lovebirds!” Din called, “Let’s get these aftergame drinks I promised Chants.”

Paz did not have it in him to correct his friend. But he also did not have it in him to tease you, to mock you, to push you away. He might be the weakest man in the room, falling victim to your sweet smile and flower-y scent, but he did not mind when it meant getting to see you happy up close.

He watched as you jogged to catch up with Din and Chants. And at the door, you glanced at him over your shoulder, eyes open and warm. His hand rose of its own accord and he waved goodbye. When you waved back, his fate was more than sealed.

He was fucked.

*

Two weeks later, Paz Vizsla was convinced that Berenson had been put on this earth just to annoy him. Because why else would the young alpha arrive just at the same time as him, slapping his back like they were old friends and say “Stars, I hope Chants brought his friend, I need some pussy tonight.”

Rage and jealousy blinded him. “Say that again,” he muttered, “And I will kill you right here. Understood, Berenson?”

His young colleague laughed, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. He didn’t know the danger he was in, clearly, and Paz prayed to any gods that might listen that he could control his rage. He had not even seen you yet and he was already too on edge to keep it together tonight.

The gala was already underway. He recognized some of the sport journalists, other players, retired players and even some of the owners. Even the new owner of the Mandalorian Minotaurs was here, talking to Boba Fett about something or other.

Relief filled him when he spotted Din and Chants, both impeccably dressed in tuxedos that quite matched his own. A waiter passed him and he took one of the drinks before making his way to his friends.

“Ah there he is,” Din greeted him with a smile, “The man of the hour, are you ready for your moment in the spotlight?”

He shook his head, a curl of his hair falling in his face. What good was combing his hair back with products if there would always be that one curl defying rhyme and reason? “I am just here to collect the trophy and then disappear.”

“Off to find some booze and women, you mean?” Din teased him.

More like taking a much-needed shower, throwing on some sweats and trying not to think about a certain omega. There was no way he would admit that, so instead he just grunted. His tuxedo itched and it felt a little too tight across his back. Maybe he should have gone to that tailor down the street again.

“So where is,” my omega, “your friend, Chants?”

“Oh, she went to check out the bar,” Chants waved to the back portion of the ballroom, “They have the specialty mocktails there, you should go check it out!”

That was all he needed to hear before he made his way to you. Sure, maybe he could have pretended he was interested in some small talk for a few minutes longer. But as soon as he knew where you were, he knew he needed to be there too.

“ – thank you. As I said, I am here waiting for someone.”

He knew that voice instinctively and hearing you had him perk up, looking over the sea of people in order to pinpoint him.

“What, like a boyfriend?”

“Exactly like a boyfriend,” your voice again, this time sounding tight and annoyed. Paz looked around before spotting you. You were standing with your back to him but there was no mistaking the curve of your neck or your scent wafting over to him.

He allowed himself one deep breath to roam his eyes over your form. You were wearing something black and satiny, the fabric draping over your body in a way that made him want to drag it off you and reveal the smooth skin below.

“I am sure he won’t mind me keeping you company until he returns,” the sleazebag’s leery grin made Paz’s fist itch to hit something. Preferably his face. He would also settle on grabbing him by the collar and ripping the guy out of your personal space.

Your body tightened up and yes, that was fear in your scent.

Before he could think better of it, Paz had stepped right behind you. The strange man’s eyes immediately drifted to him and he pushed his shoulders back, straightened his spine and rose to his full height. This guy would get the full Paz Vizsla experience he usually reserved for people on the ice.

“Actually, her boyfriend would mind,” he rumbled, the fabric of your dress soft under his touch.

He expected you to tense up in surprise at his sudden appearance. Maybe even to shy away from his touch. What he had not expected was the way you melted into his hand on your waist until you were completely tucked into his side. No piece of paper could have fit between you two and it did not bother him in the slightest.

Quite the opposite, actually, it encouraged him to turn his head towards you and run his nose along your hairline.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, sweetheart.”

You smelled like spring rain, flowers and his future. His heart tightened at that realization and his fingers twitched against you.

“It’s alright,” you smiled up at him, genuinely. Could anyone blame him that he wanted you to always look at him like that?

“You?” the guy echoed, “You are her boyfriend?!”

He did not sound afraid enough for his liking so his glare got even stronger. “Yes, I am and you better believe it,” his pulled you closer, breathing in deep to keep the aggression at bay, “Because I could swear you were ignoring my woman’s No before I showed up. Now isn’t that interesting, not respecting a woman’s wishes?”

Dark satisfaction filled him when the stranger blanched and scrambled away without another word. The crowd closed ranks behind him and a second later, it was just the two of you, standing together like … like a couple.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you were silent for a bit, “Thank you.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” he winked and took a step away from you. He needed to get away from this warm feeling in his chest or else he would lose all control and do something he might regret. Like claim you for everyone to see, scent you until your eyes rolled back in your head and sit you on his knot until he could be sure you were carrying his kid. “There can only be one man who annoys you.”

“Oh, so you are back to annoying me then?”

“Never stopped, sweetheart.”

“So, what will it be today?” you asked, the teasing edge of your voice replaced with something more serious, “Will you tease me about my scent? Or that I spend my days in front of a computer, working a boring 9 to 5? Or the fact that I am so very uptight? Or that I don’t know how to skate? Or that –“

“Whoa there,” his hands landed on your shoulder, his thumbs brushing towards your neck. The dress you were wearing was strapless and he got to see your chest rise and fall rapidly. He frowned. “I never teased you about not being able to skate. And the day I mock your scent will never come, omega, you understand? Never.”

Your shoulders fell and a sigh so heavy left you, he worried that someone else had made you unhappy. He would not be able to accept the award if he had to track that person down and threaten them into apologizing to you.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, “Just had a bad day.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Okay.”

Neither one of you moved. His hands were still on your bare shoulders and when his rough thumb grazed the very edge of your scent gland, he could feel the sparks flying in his chest. There was no way he could stop touching you now that he knew what you felt like. There was no way he could leave you now and even remotely enjoy the evening when he knew you were just a few steps away from him.

“Dance with me.”

“Hm?”

“Dance with me,” he repeated himself, nodding to the packed dancefloor where some couples were slow dancing under mirror ball lights, “Gets you some time to think and I don’t have to talk to any of the reporters.”

It was a lame excuse and also not really true, but that did not matter when it got you to spend time with him. 

“Oh right,” you said, “You’re getting your award today.”

With your hand in his, he led you to the dancefloor. He ignored any surprised looks of the people you passed. Under no circumstanced did he want to get interrupted on his way to get more time with you alone and close to him. Your hand felt heavy in his and whenever he snuck through, your hand squeezed his tighter, as if you did not want to lose him.

Once he had found an acceptable empty spot on the dance floor, he turned around and pulled you closer. One hand on your waist, the other holding yours, just like his grandparents had taught him before his first school dance. He had ended up not needing it then but he was more than happy now, being able to lead you over the dance floor with slow, determined steps.

Just like you had said, you weren’t in the mood to talk and he was more than happy to, for once, not fight with you. The longer he kept his mouth shut, the longer you would stay around him and right now, that was all he needed. Song after song played in the background as you swayed across the floor and neither of you made any move to pull away.

“I didn’t want to come,” you murmured, your cheek by now resting on his chest. He hoped you wouldn’t be able to feel his heart racing but, then again, maybe that was how he could show you just what you did to him without having to say it out loud. “Chants said this might the best spot to find a date for the wedding but I am,” you interrupted yourself with a sigh and his hold on you tightened, pressing you closer against him, “I am so tired of putting energy in for people who are not interested in me. Maybe I am just meant to be alone. The only single omega at a wedding.”

He hated the sadness in your voice, the defeat. And he hated even more that he had caused some of it. The heartbroken look on your face the first time you had met flashed across his mind and his fingers dug into the soft fabric of your dress. “Sometimes the people we love are so happily in love, they want us to have that happiness too,” he rumbled, his hand on your back lifting until he cupped the back of your neck, his thumb brushing over your scent gland. The touch sent shivers down his back, the good kind, and he swore he could feel you shiver, too. “And then they kind of forget how lonely it can be to be confronted with your singleness”

You turned your face, resting your chin on his broad chest so you could look up at him with warm eyes. “That almost sounds like Paz Vizsla is tired of being single,” you teased him, though there was no bite in your voice, “And here I was thinking that your life consisted of … what was it again? Ah yes, desperate omegas hoping to get a sniff.”

Heat crept up his neck. “You took that out of context.”

“You said it right after we were introduced to each other!”

“I couldn’t let Berenson know that –“

“That what?”

That you already meant something to me.

The music stopped and the chandeliers lit up, bathing even the intimate dance floor in bright golden light. People around you clapped, shifting the attention to the stage but Paz was still holding on to you, blinking against the jarring feeling of being pulled out of the bubble he had created with you.

Everyone clapped as the hosts for the night climbed the sage and Paz followed suit, trying to get his head into the game. You did the same but you were standing tight in front of him, no, against him. You were leaning against him, your back against his chest and he stopped clapping, letting his hands fall to your hips.

“It is our great pleasure to present the award for Community Impact to none other than Player #87 of the Mandalorian Minotaurs – Paz Vizsla!”

Whoops and hollers and cheers erupted around the room and he spotted Din putting his fingers in his mouth for a loud whistle. All he could look at was you, smiling at him over your shoulder. “Go on, alpha,” you whispered, “Accept your award.”

“Will you be here when I come back?”

“Maybe if you hurry.”

Your laughter rang in his ears for the entirety of his (very rushed) acceptance speech.

May's Recommended Reading Order (and also current writing playlist)

OK Love You Bye – Olivia Dean

So Easy (To Fall In Love) – Olivia Dean

Bluest Flame – Selena Gomez

Sympathy Magic – Florence + The Machine

Man I Need- Olivia Dean

Joy – RAYE

Buckle – Florence + The Machine

I’ll Believe in Anything – Wolf Parade