Finally living my best life

Oh.

Fox.

It was always hard to tell with the helmet, but you were pretty sure he was looking directly at you. It flustered you so much that your stomach flipped and you lowered your gaze so fast you risked almost walking into the wall. Kriff, pull yourself together.

You'd been crossing paths with Fox maybe every couple days somewhere in the Senate building. Every single time, you could feel his gaze locked on you. At first, you'd assumed it was for security reasons. He probably had every Senate employee's face memorized. That made sense. More sense than thinking there was something about you in particular that always caught his attention.

"Morning," he said as you passed by him. Force, his voice.

"O-oh. Morning, Commander."

He stared after you for a moment too long, almost like he'd hoped for something else. Conversation, maybe. But you never knew what to say to him, and so you kept walking.

______________________________

Fox was getting tired of this. Not of you, never of you, but every time he thought about trying to talk to you, you looked seconds away from fleeing Coruscant.

He'd spent months trying to make himself more approachable. The way he always straightened on instinct when he spotted you was a habit he'd been trying to abandon, he'd been working on trying to make his greetings a little less clipped and abrupt, and he'd been intentionally taking the Senate routes he knew you used most often. It had been months of watching your expression go soft with recognition whenever you saw him before uncertainty or even panic immediately swallowed it again.

You liked him. He was certain of it. The problem was that it seemed like you were convinced he couldn't possibly return that feeling…which was ridiculous.

Fox noticed everything about you. The way you thanked the guards at security checkpoints, the exhausted little smiles you'd give him during late-night shifts that somehow made twelve hour rotations bearable. But, kriff, he'd seen criminals more straightforward than this. And he was getting impatient.

______________________________

Later that day, you exited a meeting feeling thoroughly miserable. One of the senior aides had spent nearly half an hour criticizing your work in front of everyone else, and even though your supervisor assured you afterward that the complaints were minor, you still felt humiliated. You kept your head down lower than usual as you walked; which is why you startled violently when a familiar voice spoke beside you.

"Are you avoiding me?"

Your head snapped up so quickly you almost tripped. Fox was walking next to you, matching your pace.

"Am I--what?"

"You keep running away from me." His tone wasn't angry. If anything, it sounded exasperated. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No!" Your answer came out too fast, a little too loud. A couple people glanced your way and you shrank. "No, Commander, I just--"

Fox interrupted you with a low sound in the back of his throat, something rough with frustration. "You always do that."

"Do what?"

"Act like you're waiting for me to arrest you or something."

Your face flushed. "I don't--"

"You do."

He stopped walking, and it took you a second to register it. You paused, swallowing hard, and turned to face him. He was still staring directly at you through that unreadable visor, arms crossed over his chestplate. Way too intimidating.

You glanced down. "…Sorry, Commander."

Fox sighed sharply. "Kriffing hell."

Your eyes widened slightly.

"I have a name, you know."

You blinked at him. The irritation in his voice sounded closer to exhaustion, like he'd been trying to force something for too long and was finally losing patience with it. "I…" Your fingers tightened around your datapad. "I know."

"Then use it."

You stared at him helplessly, unsure what to say. The silence stretched long enough that he exhaled heavily.

"See? That's exactly what I mean." He stepped closer, not enough to crowd you but enough that your pulse quickened further. "Every time I talk to you, you panic."

"I don't panic."

"You jumped out of your skin when I said hello this morning."

"…Maybe a little," you admitted. "I was just surprised."

"Surprised," he repeated flatly. You could practically hear the eyeroll behind his helmet. Heat crept up your neck again, humiliation mixing unpleasantly with the miserable ache still sitting in your chest from your meeting earlier.

"Commander, I--I'm sorry if I--"

Fox groaned exasperately and abruptly reached out to catch your wrist. Not rough, but enough to stop you from trying to retreat again, and you fell immediately silent.

"I'm getting sick of chasing you around the Senate building," he said bluntly. Your breath caught, but he continued speaking before you could fully process the statement. "I reroute patrols to this sector to see you. And every time you pass me, you look at me like you want to say something, and then you bolt. I don't understand what you're so damn afraid of."

You let out a weak, nervous laugh before you could stop yourself. "Commander, you're terrifying."

Fox went silent for a moment. When he next spoke, he almost sounded offended. "I'm not supposed to be terrifying to you."

You blinked, shifting your weight a little from one foot to the other. "I--I'm sorry--"

He groaned again, heavily. "Stop kriffing apologizing."

For a second, you were both silent again. His grip on your wrist tightened minutely, and then he made another quiet, frustrated sound and shook his head. "Fine. Since subtlety apparently doesn't work on you--" He forced his grip on your wrist to loosen. "I like you."

Your heart stopped. Fox continued before you could recover.

"And I refuse to believe you haven't caught on by now. I wanna take you out."

You stared at him. He stared back. The corridor suddenly felt way too hot. "I…" Your voice failed.

Fox's posture shifted, impatient again. Nervous, maybe, though he'd never admit that. "Well?"

"You like me?" you managed faintly.

"Obviously."

Obviously. Stars.

Fox tilted his helmet towards you slightly. "I'm asking you to dinner."

You could barely think straight. "You are?"

"Yes."

There was a beat of silence before he prompted, "Say, 'yes, Fox. I'd love to, Fox'. Come on."

You couldn't help the way the corners of your mouth finally quirked up, and you finally focused your gaze on him. "Yes, Fox. I'd love to, Fox," you repeated quietly, blushing furiously.

Oh.

Fox.

It was always hard to tell with the helmet, but you were pretty sure he was looking directly at you. It flustered you so much that your stomach flipped and you lowered your gaze so fast you risked almost walking into the wall. Kriff, pull yourself together.

You'd been crossing paths with Fox maybe every couple days somewhere in the Senate building. Every single time, you could feel his gaze locked on you. At first, you'd assumed it was for security reasons. He probably had every Senate employee's face memorized. That made sense. More sense than thinking there was something about you in particular that always caught his attention.

"Morning," he said as you passed by him. Force, his voice.

"O-oh. Morning, Commander."

He stared after you for a moment too long, almost like he'd hoped for something else. Conversation, maybe. But you never knew what to say to him, and so you kept walking.

______________________________

Fox was getting tired of this. Not of you, never of you, but every time he thought about trying to talk to you, you looked seconds away from fleeing Coruscant.

He'd spent months trying to make himself more approachable. The way he always straightened on instinct when he spotted you was a habit he'd been trying to abandon, he'd been working on trying to make his greetings a little less clipped and abrupt, and he'd been intentionally taking the Senate routes he knew you used most often. It had been months of watching your expression go soft with recognition whenever you saw him before uncertainty or even panic immediately swallowed it again.

You liked him. He was certain of it. The problem was that it seemed like you were convinced he couldn't possibly return that feeling…which was ridiculous.

Fox noticed everything about you. The way you thanked the guards at security checkpoints, the exhausted little smiles you'd give him during late-night shifts that somehow made twelve hour rotations bearable. But, kriff, he'd seen criminals more straightforward than this. And he was getting impatient.

______________________________

Later that day, you exited a meeting feeling thoroughly miserable. One of the senior aides had spent nearly half an hour criticizing your work in front of everyone else, and even though your supervisor assured you afterward that the complaints were minor, you still felt humiliated. You kept your head down lower than usual as you walked; which is why you startled violently when a familiar voice spoke beside you.

"Are you avoiding me?"

Your head snapped up so quickly you almost tripped. Fox was walking next to you, matching your pace.

"Am I--what?"

"You keep running away from me." His tone wasn't angry. If anything, it sounded exasperated. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No!" Your answer came out too fast, a little too loud. A couple people glanced your way and you shrank. "No, Commander, I just--"

Fox interrupted you with a low sound in the back of his throat, something rough with frustration. "You always do that."

"Do what?"

"Act like you're waiting for me to arrest you or something."

Your face flushed. "I don't--"

"You do."

He stopped walking, and it took you a second to register it. You paused, swallowing hard, and turned to face him. He was still staring directly at you through that unreadable visor, arms crossed over his chestplate. Way too intimidating.

You glanced down. "…Sorry, Commander."

Fox sighed sharply. "Kriffing hell."

Your eyes widened slightly.

"I have a name, you know."

You blinked at him. The irritation in his voice sounded closer to exhaustion, like he'd been trying to force something for too long and was finally losing patience with it. "I…" Your fingers tightened around your datapad. "I know."

"Then use it."

You stared at him helplessly, unsure what to say. The silence stretched long enough that he exhaled heavily.

"See? That's exactly what I mean." He stepped closer, not enough to crowd you but enough that your pulse quickened further. "Every time I talk to you, you panic."

"I don't panic."

"You jumped out of your skin when I said hello this morning."

"…Maybe a little," you admitted. "I was just surprised."

"Surprised," he repeated flatly. You could practically hear the eyeroll behind his helmet. Heat crept up your neck again, humiliation mixing unpleasantly with the miserable ache still sitting in your chest from your meeting earlier.

"Commander, I--I'm sorry if I--"

Fox groaned exasperately and abruptly reached out to catch your wrist. Not rough, but enough to stop you from trying to retreat again, and you fell immediately silent.

"I'm getting sick of chasing you around the Senate building," he said bluntly. Your breath caught, but he continued speaking before you could fully process the statement. "I reroute patrols to this sector to see you. And every time you pass me, you look at me like you want to say something, and then you bolt. I don't understand what you're so damn afraid of."

You let out a weak, nervous laugh before you could stop yourself. "Commander, you're terrifying."

Fox went silent for a moment. When he next spoke, he almost sounded offended. "I'm not supposed to be terrifying to you."

You blinked, shifting your weight a little from one foot to the other. "I--I'm sorry--"

He groaned again, heavily. "Stop kriffing apologizing."

For a second, you were both silent again. His grip on your wrist tightened minutely, and then he made another quiet, frustrated sound and shook his head. "Fine. Since subtlety apparently doesn't work on you--" He forced his grip on your wrist to loosen. "I like you."

Your heart stopped. Fox continued before you could recover.

"And I refuse to believe you haven't caught on by now. I wanna take you out."

You stared at him. He stared back. The corridor suddenly felt way too hot. "I…" Your voice failed.

Fox's posture shifted, impatient again. Nervous, maybe, though he'd never admit that. "Well?"

"You like me?" you managed faintly.

"Obviously."

Obviously. Stars.

Fox tilted his helmet towards you slightly. "I'm asking you to dinner."

You could barely think straight. "You are?"

"Yes."

There was a beat of silence before he prompted, "Say, 'yes, Fox. I'd love to, Fox'. Come on."

You couldn't help the way the corners of your mouth finally quirked up, and you finally focused your gaze on him. "Yes, Fox. I'd love to, Fox," you repeated quietly, blushing furiously.

Home is the only place where he can stop being Commander Fox for a little while.

Thorn always notices immediately. "You look less homicidal." Fox just rolls his eyes and ignores him. "That's because you're going home tonight," Thorn continues with a grin. "Your reset button lives in that apartment."

 Fox tells him to get back to work. 

After a particularly difficult week, Fox becomes embarrassingly clingy without meaning to.

 He'll follow you from room to room under increasingly weak excuses.

 You're folding laundry? He leans against the doorway, watching.

 You're making caf? Suddenly he needs caf too.

You're watering plants? Apparently that's fascinating. 

 Eventually you catch him doing it.

 "Fox."

 "What?"

"You're following me."

 "No, I'm not."

 He absolutely is.

He loves physical affection far more than people would ever expect.

 Not in public and not around his men.

 But at home?

 He wants an arm around your waist while you're cooking. He wants your hand in his. He wants to rest his forehead against yours while you're both half asleep.

 Sometimes he doesn't even want conversation. Just contact.

Cuddling is his favorite thing in the entire galaxy.

 He would deny this under torture. But it's true.

 After long days, he'll practically melt into the mattress the moment you pull him into bed.

 One arm wrapped tightly around your waist,  face buried against your shoulder, breathing slowing almost immediately.

Fox secretly loves cooking with you.

 He's surprisingly good at it too.

 Reads recipes exactly, measures ingredients correctly.

 Meanwhile, you're tossing things into the pan based entirely on instinct.

 It horrifies him. "That isn't a measurement."

 "It is."

 "No, it isn't."

 "I've made this a hundred times."

 He still watches nervously until dinner is finished.

If you own a tooka, a dog, or any kind of pet, Fox pretends he isn't attached.

 He is. Completely.

 The pet adores him.

 Which annoys him because he has spent years cultivating a terrifying reputation. 

Nothing destroys that reputation faster than a small animal curling up in his lap.

Some mornings, he'll volunteer to walk your pet before you even wake up.

Mostly because it gives him a quiet hour where nobody is demanding reports, requesting authorization, or creating emergencies.

 Just him, the sunrise, and a very happy animal trotting beside him.

When he's particularly stressed, he'll sit beside you on the couch and simply lean against you. Just quietly seeking comfort.

 If you start playing with his hair or scratching lightly at the back of his neck, he's gone. Completely relaxed within minutes.

Thorn catches onto this, too.

 "You know, lots of people meditate to relax."

 Fox doesn't look up from his datapad.

 "I might."

 "No. You just go home and get cuddled.

 "Thorn."

 "That's your meditation."

The Coruscant Guard is used to seeing their commander tired. They're used to seeing him stressed. They're used to seeing him grumpy.

The rare occasions they see him after he's had a weekend with you are genuinely alarming.

 He's calmer, more patient.  Less likely to threaten paperwork-related violence.

 One trooper once remarked that you should receive an official Guard commendation for maintaining operational readiness.

More than anything, Fox loves the normal moments.

 Cooking dinner together, walking through Coruscant markets, falling asleep on the couch halfway through a holo, listening to you talk about your day while he quietly unwinds.

 His entire life is built around responsibility, pressure, and impossible expectations.

So the thing he treasures most isn't grand gestures.

It's coming home, seeing you there, and knowing for a few precious hours he doesn't have to carry the weight of the galaxy alone.

"You might be invited as a voyeur if you stare too long," you tease Maul. If looks could kill.

Devon sulked and protested on the way here, until you asked her if she wanted to see Toydarians floating around in nothing but codpieces. Now she was happily guarding the speeder, though Maul made a wry comment that he did not want to see that either.

You lean over the bar and the tender clocks you— a Twi-lek female with neon green paint covering the marks of her lekku.

"What're feeling, babe?"

You smile at her. "The Gungan's Wet Dream. Easy on the lime."

She looks between you and Maul, the gestures you to follow her. "Follow me."

She leads you down a familiar dim hallway, walls littered with raunchy graffiti and revolutionary slogans that would make any stormtrooper sweat. You feel the cold ease off of Maul slightly.

The backroom is quiet, the bass a distant thrum rather than something that reverberates through your teeth. The Trogruta at the desk is already on her feet when you walk in, towering over you even without the six inch platform boots.

"Janare," your voice is as warm as you feel.

She crosses the room and takes your face between orange hands— kisses one cheek, then the other, unhurried and you return the gesture.

"Good to see you again, troublemaker," she says.

"Me? You're all the trouble."

"Oh, I know I'm bad, sweetheart," Janare engulfs you into a hug and swings you around. "But so are you."

You laugh with an ease you haven't felt for quite some time. For a few moments, you forget that you're here for information, and that the galaxy is under a Sith tyrant. That is just who Janare is, someone to get lost in.

Behind you, the Force chills around Maul again. You turn your head to see the slight curl of his lip and tension in his shoulders. He doesn't want to be here and is growing inpatient. Which is fair, he isn't here to witness a reunion between old lovers.

Janare sees it, because a life time of reading people grants one a sharp perception even without strength in the Force. She eyes Maul in the doorway for a second too long, and her brow raises in a way that you know means mischief.

"This one's yours?" she asks.

"This one is no one's," Maul says, harsh and flat.

Her grin widens, and you feel satisfaction ripple from her through the Force. "No," she says, never taking her eyes off of Maul. "No. Of course not."

Janare steps back and gestures for you two to sit on the velvet couch. She strides behind her mini bar in the corner and pulls three glasses out.

"What's your poison, big guy?"

Maul crosses his arms and continues to stand next to you, rather than sit.

"Cassius tea," he says, dryly.

"Oh, I'm afraid that's a bit too exotic for us," she pulls out a bottle of Corellian Whiskey. "We're pretty basic around here, if you couldn't tell.”

“Really,” Maul drawls sarcastically.

Janare's amusement grows. She pours two fingers of whiskey into two glasses, handing one to you before plopping down on the couch facing yours. The third glass is left back on the bar.

"Now to what do I owe the pleasure?"

You give her the name and cargo. A gang who stole a shipment of weapons meant for Crimson Dawn and were somehow elusive enough that they evaded capture from the others sent to retrieve it. A tedious mission, but good exercise for Devon. Had it been anyone else, Janare would make them work for the information. But not for you. Never for you.

"That's all you needed?" She waves her hand like she's shooing off the question. "Bay nine, dock fifteen, three nights from now. There's a Trandoshan guard with one eye— tell him I sent you and he'll clear out faster than you can say my name."

"You're a lifesaver."

"Only 'cause I like you," She takes a sip of her whiskey and her gaze drifts, lazy and deliberate, to Maul. "Can't say the same for all present company."

Maul says nothing, but the red waves of aggravation that emit from him through the Force almost make you cringe.

"He doesn't drink, he doesn't sit, he doesn't talk," Janare counts it off on her fingers. "You don't need a guard dog, babe."

"You are lucky that you two are acquainted," Maul seethes. "I do not take kindly to such poor hosts."

Janare laughs. "Oh, her and I are more than acquainted, I promise you."

You flush. "Janare-"

"I don't take kindly to poor guests," she continues, "but I don't go out of my way to threaten them either."

Maul shifts and you can tell that his hand is on his lightsaber. You have no doubt that Janare knew he was dangerous, but she was pushing it. You open your mouth to defuse the situation, but she interrupts you by placing her warm hand on your knee.

"You always have a room here," Janare says, soft and just for you. "If you ever get tired of rude men."

And there it was, another cold burst of rage coming from the man standing beside you. And—

It hits you like a freighter full of duracrete. Is Maul jealous?

No. There's no way.

There's tension between you — attraction, on your end, but you'd long since settled it as one-sided. He's consumed with Devon, with revenge. There's no conceivable way he thinks of you like that.

…Unless he does. Unless that's why Janare's been giving him so much shit.

"We have what we came for," Maul says, already heading towards the door.

You give Janare a bewildered look because you have a million questions on your tongue and no time for her to answer them. But she's watching Maul and smirking, like a tooka cat that caught the canary.

Oh no, you think.

"Stop by again sometime," she says, finally shifting her gaze back to you.

"I will…"

You rise from the couch and Janare guides you out of the room with a hand on your lower back.

"Enjoy the rest of your night, babe," she kisses you on the cheek. "Good to see you again."

You have to trot down the hall to catch up to Maul, who is nudging people out of his way with subtle use of the Force.

Devon's draped across the back seat when you arrive at the air speeder, one foot resting across the console and blaring music that Maul immediately quiets with a wave of his hand.

"Finally," she says, sniffs and makes a face. "Ugh, you two smell like booze—"

She stops and sits up. Those big eyes track from Maul, who flips the switches on the speeder like they personally offend him, to you, sliding into the front passenger seat.

"What happened?" Devon asks.

"Nothing happened." you say.

"No," she says, narrowing her eyes. "Something clearly happened in there."

"What happened," Maul hisses, then pauses, and reels in his tone. "was that we got the intelligence we needed,"

Devon glares at the back of his head for a long moment, then decides it isn't worth it and rolls her eyes.

"Whatever," she mumbles to herself.

You stare at the viewport as the neon smears past, trying not to think that the rage leaking off of Maul might just be jealousy. Three nights until the shipment, and a long ride back to the safe house before that. Wonderful, less than five minutes and Janare stirs your life up into a crisis. Typical.

You exhale slowly through your nose and try to meditate.

Emphasis on try. You've shared many comfortable silences with Maul, but not this one. This one is tense, and even if you were blind to the Force, you could cut it with a knife. He hasn't looked at you once since you left Janare's office, but you are hyper aware of the heat of his arm a hands width away from yours.

You watch the city peel past the viewport in silence, except for the soft snores of Devon who is dozed off in the back. You don't look at how Maul's large hands engulf the controls. You don't look at the cut of his side profile, or how his skin reflects the city lights in shades of blue and purple. You focus on the city, on bay nine, and dock fifteen. Anything that's not the anxiety swirling around in your chest.

Maul's arm shifts next to yours. He inhales, so softly you almost don't catch it, but whatever he plans to say dies on the exhale.

For a Sith, he has a lot of restraint.

The safe house is dark when you arrive. A dusty, utilitarian warehouse meant for short stays like this one— bare walls, moth bitten sheets, and a kitchenette stocked with instant noodles and protein bars. Devon wanders down the only hall in the corner. You hear a door slide open, then another shortly after, and a beat of silence.

"So," she calls out, too much delight in her voice for your liking. "We have a problem."

Both you and Maul head wordlessly down to the hallway to find Devon, leaning against one of the doorways with a smirk you definitely don't like.

"Well it's actually more a 'you two have a problem.' There's only two beds, and this one," she points her thumb behind her. "Is child size. The other one," she points to the bedroom on the far end of the hall. "Is huge."

A quick glance into the room Devon's standing in confirms that yes, it is child's size twin bed. Your heart jolts in your chest. Maul is silent behind you.

"Good luck figuring that one out," Devon says with a tone so smarmy that you know it will land her with ten more laps during tomorrows training session. She probably knows that and doesn't care.

Her door slides shut, leaving you and Maul alone with the heated weight between you two. You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose, mumbling something about padawans and apprentices while walking to the other room.

The bed is huge— big enough to comfortably fit the three of you if it came down to it.

"I will sleep on the floor," Maul says from the doorway.

The words leave your mouth before you can stop them. "The floor is disgusting," you say, turning to face him.

"I have slept in worse places," he says mildly.

"Maul," you huff. "We're adults. The bed is big enough for two hutts, let's just share it…"

He holds your gaze longer than is comfortable. Then, without a word, he crosses to the far side of the bed to pull off his boots. And that, apparently, was that.

Each bedroom has it's own attached refresher. You wordlessly take turns, and stay a bit longer underneath the boiling stream of the shower than necessary. You are both battle hardened adults. Sleeping next to a team mate is the far least precarious situation you found yourself in— crush notwithstanding. It is fine.

It is not fine. You spent your entire nightly routine debating on whether or not you should wear a bra to bed. Eventually settling on accepting a few nights of discomfort and clipping the garment back into the place. That led you two the second problem: you had no full length pajama pants, only panties and a single pair of sleep shorts that left little to the imagination.

Oh, sleeping next to a Sith Lord with your ass hanging out. You wonder what your Master would think, then remember that they were a hard ass and would tell you to get over it.

Right. You were an adult.

You walk out of the refresher. Maul is shirtless, and you swear you could hear the cackle of your Master's laugh through the Force. You beeline it to your side of the bed, not once making eye contact, while he takes his turn in the refresher.

You lie on your back and stare at the ceiling. Maul walks around with half his chest out anyway, why was it a big deal? There's approximately two Devon's of space between you and his side of the bed. You are an adult.

Yeah, who are you kidding? We're adults is a lovely theory when it does not involve a shirtless Zabrak you have a crush on sleeping next to you. Especially when said Zabrak is easily provoked into jealousy while visiting your ex.

It is going to be a long night.

You've already turned to face the wall when Maul exits the bathroom. You smell the faint traces of herbal soap and think, faintly, that it smells lovely. You feel him climb into bed next to you, careful of the way he keeps himself to the edge, as deliberate about the gap between you as you are. Neither of you say anything to each other. His breath never once drops into the slow rhythm of sleep, which means he was lying there doing the precisely what you were doing. Being aware of you. Being aware of you being aware from him.

Adults. Sure.

The silence is as loud as the ringing in your ears.

And eventually, the day catches up to you— the long hours of hyperspace to this Force forsaken planet, the club, holding yourself together, and it drags you under the veil of sleep.

You don't dream so much as you materialize into one.

You're in the the club— people dancing around you and through you in blurs of color. The music is an impression of something high energy and loud; something you can feel rather than hear. You realize that you're staring at yourself as you were earlier that night— glowing underneath the lights that danced off your skin. You watch yourself smile, and a warmth of want blooms in a chest that's not your own— the word beautiful is said in a voice you recognize as Maul's.

Underneath the want, you feel fear and the certainty that every thing he wants is taken from him. You are one more thing he is going to lose, because he always loses everything within his grasp. Hands, orange hands with white markings, Janare's hands, surface from a smudge of color and travel up your body. The manifestation of you arches into the touch where it lingers on your breasts.

A cold wave of despair overwhelms you into focus. The dream, that began to fade around the edges, sharpens into vivid color, and you surface into your own body. Maul is in front of you now, looking so hurt that you almost don't recognize him.

The hands leave your body as you reach for him. That hurt look morphs into one of surprise as you grasp the back of his neck, and pull him forward. The space between your lips closes to nothing— you feel his lips, the heat of his hands on your waist—

And that's what wakes you.

It's still dark. Your heart pounds in your ears, and the first thing you understand is that the space between you is gone.

At some point in the night, your bodies betrayed the both of you. Maul's bare chest consumes your vision, his arm heavy across your waist. You stare, frozen, face flush from both his heat and embarrassment until you hear his breath catch, because he's awake. Maybe as long as you have been.

You wait for him to retreat like you've burned him. It doesn't come and you don't move either.

"That was real," you say, when your heart finally settles down and you accept your fate. "You were there. I felt you."

You brace for his retreat— for the door to shut and his refusal to speak of this again. But it doesn't come.

"Yes," is all he says, voice impossibly deep and ragged from sleep.

You lean back, just a little, to look at him. His golden eyes glow in the dark, soft, despite the darkness you know it took for them to turn that color. For a moment, you think about how you, a former Jedi, are in bed with the Sith that served Sidious— the one that killed Qui-Gon Jinn. Your predecessors, both his and yours, are probably looking at the two of you in disgust.

And you realize that you don't care.

"You think I'm beautiful," you whisper.

"I do," No deflection, no mind games. What you two share is undeniable. To fight it would be a waste of breath.

"And you were jealous,"

Maul's arm flexes where it lays across your waist. "I did not intend for you to become something that I wanted," he inhales, shakily. "I have only known my wants to be…taken from me."

You have nothing to say, so you close the distance to kiss him. It's dark, so you miss slightly, and kiss his chin. You giggle, mumble a soft "sorry", and kiss him proper.

Maul is still for a second, then his hand is in your hair and he's kissing you back. The slide of your lips is a soft movement, until the restraint breaks and you throw a leg over his hips, rolling on top of him. Maul, you realize, is very noisy, which shouldn't come as too much of a surprise given his verbosity.

He groans as you slide your tongue into his mouth, graze against his, which you realize is a bit rough like sandpaper. The inhales between your kisses fill the room. Maul's muscles are taut between your thighs, and you become vividly aware of how thin your shorts are.

He grumbles when you pull away. You shush him with a series of kisses down his jaw to his neck.

"I think you're handsome," you nip at his skin. "In case you didn't know that."

Maul flips you and captures your lips in another kiss. He swallows your noise of surprise with an enthusiasm that goes straight to your clit. A warm hand slides under your shirt and pauses just below the wire of your bra. You curse yourself for your earlier trepidations.

"May I…?" his voice is wrecked and soft against your lips.

"Such a gentleman," you giggle and sit up enough to release the clasp, sliding the straps over your arms and pulling it out from underneath your shirt.

Maul's hands slide up your torso to your breasts, much like the ghosts of Janare's hands in your dream. You sigh as he rubs his thumb over your nipples, and watch as he drinks you in, like he's etching the sight of you into his memory.

"Like what you see?" you tease. The glow of Maul's eyes darkens. He maintains eye contact as he leans down and takes one of your nipples into his mouth. The gasp that leaves your mouth is whiny, even to your own ears.

"I will make you forget every time her hands were on you," Maul growls. "You will know nothing but my touch."

Your clit throbs, hips canting up to his. What you feel is warm and hard— but his hand is suddenly at your pelvis, pinning you down. It pulls you out of the haze of your arousal while Maul continues to mouth at your breasts.

"Maul…" you moan as he circles your nipple with his tongue. "We shouldn't go further…Not with Devon down the hall."

He kisses back up to your throat, his breath fanning against your skin. "Three days is a long time, my dear," his hand slides down to cup your pussy through your shorts. "I don't have to fuck you. Not yet."

"Maul—"

"Hush," He slides his hand underneath your shorts, humming in amusement when he feels how soaked you are. "Tell me, is this from your friend, or from me?"

Maul's lips drag down your breast again, sucking some of the supple flesh into his mouth.

"You," you whine, and he rewards you with a finger pressing against your swollen clit.

You've spent an embarrassing amount of time fantasizing about his hands. Even felt like some starved maiden during the rare glimpses you caught him without his gloves. You wonder if he ever fantasizes about parts of you in a similar way.

"That's right…" Maul drags his tongue over your nipple, then slides your panties to the side and glides his fingers up the length of your cunt.

He presses your clit and rubs in slow, small circles. You spread your legs, body trembling beneath him.

"Going on about three days," you laugh breathlessly. "Like I'm the one that's being impatient."

That earns you a slap to your clit. You yelp and grind into his hand.

"You started this," Maul kisses you again and sucks your tongue into his mouth. "I will finish it. Now be quiet."

He works at your clit, swallowing all of your cries with sloppy, wet kisses. It's messy the way your teeth occasionally clash, noses bumping against each other, spit gathering in each others mouths.

You grin when one of Maul's fingers slides into your cunt, another quickly following when he feels how greedily you suck him in. They curl and you clench hard enough to feel the ridges of his knuckles.

"L-lower," you mumble against his lips. "Little lower, curl them more…Oh—"

Maul hits that spongy spot inside you in an even, but hard pace. You feel the pleasure pulse from your clit and radiate deep inside you— the squelch of your pussy absolutely filthy. It's melting your brain and you try so hard to keep quiet, but Maul shoves two fingers of his other hand in your mouth anyway.

"Is silence truly so difficult for you?" he taunts, voice just as wrecked as yours. "Bite."

You bite down on his fingers, staring right into his blown pupils as you lap your tongue around his digits.

He thrusts into you violently now, curling his palm so it rubs right against your clit. Your brain melts as the warmth builds and builds, your legs shaking, desperately grabbing onto his forearm as it overwhelms you.

Maul looks wild as he smirks down at you. The hazy look in his eyes somewhere between smug and reverent. That arrogance goes straight to your pussy, and you can't wait to wipe that look off of his face later.

But for now, drool gathers at the corners of your mouth. Your muffled cries pitch higher and higher, the pleasure so consuming that you feel dizzy.

"Go on," Maul whispers. "Cum for me, my dear."

You gush around his fingers as your orgasm tears through you, soaking his hand and ruining your shorts and panties. Your pussy squeezes so hard around his fingers that you push them out of you. But Maul, the bastard, doesn't let up, and rubs your puffy clit in circles as you ride the waves of your high.

You smack at his forearm when it becomes too much, twisting your hips to get away from the over stimulation. He stops and cups your pussy instead, pressing down with light pressure as you start to come down.

Your body jerks with the aftershocks. Slowly, you register a metallic taste in your mouth and realize that you bit down on his fingers hard enough to break skin. You let go and he pulls his hand away.

"Shit— I'm sorry," you pant, but Maul silences you with a kiss.

"I can handle a little bite," he mumbles into your mouth.

Your hips jolt when his hand leaves your pussy, and he maintains eye contact while he licks his fingers.

"You are lovely," Maul hums.

That praise brings heat to your cheeks and you kiss him again, licking the essence of you off his tongue.

It's almost disgustingly sweet the way he takes care of you after. Peeling off your panties and shorts, grabbing a fresh pair for you from your bag and gently patting you dry with a towel. Your brain is too foggy to comprehend what just happened between you two.

Maul climbs back into bed behind you and draws you in, hooking his chin over your shoulder.

"What about you?" you mumble, reaching behind you for his waist. He gently grabs your wrist and splays his fingers over yours.

"Another time," he says into your hair. "Sleep. We have few hours before dawn."

You wake to an empty bed. A look at the chrono on your datapad tells you it was mid morning, which means you slept in. You stretch out with your senses and find Maul and Devon outside, which you expected. For one horrible, anxiety ridden second, you brush up against Maul's presence and wait to be shut out. That he realized in the waking hours that last night was a mistake, and whatever between you two would never be the same again.

But what you feel in return is gentle, chastising, almost as if to say "don't be a fool."

You smile to yourself and make a note to message Janare later.

IT'S FINALLY HERE!!!! MY COMIC NOT COMIC XDXD I don't know if to leave this as a one-shot with open ending or making it a series, if you like it enough to make it a series please tell me!! And maybe suggest a name for it? xdxd (I'm pretty bad with names). I have some ideas for a next chapter but they maybe be also for little loose comics.

Aaagghh this project was supposed to be for me to relax (that's the why of the flat coloring and cartoonish style) but I kept fighting with consistency hfvbjdbvd and their dark world form is also bcjdhvb like, I'm trying to use the colors they already have but I had to change some of them and Wind still looks radioactive xD so... designs may change (maybe maybe). Still had a lot of fun!!

Special thanks to ghosthoard for giving me advice for drawing animals!!! And to x-i-l-verify because this ask made me think maybe too much on their dark world form enough to me wanting to do a design for everyone, modified a little Leg and Time's design and then put a story of why xD

The plan had only been to relax. After a full day of receive bad news after bad news, by the time he had clambered through the door, belly rumbling from hunger and patience at level zero, all he had planned for the evening was laying by your side after a warm meal and hitting the hay before the sun fell below the horizon. The funny part about plans though is they were always subjected to change. A fact that on any other given day would likely send the poor, exhausted Captain into a downward spiral. Yet this time, Warriors didn't mind this change in his plans one bit.

The sun had gone down hours ago, along with the bottom half of his clothing that was still pooled around his ankles. Bed covers and blankets were tossed to the side, sheets crinkled and damp underneath him from the night's festivities.

"Fuck... Babe you spoil me." He moans in a breathy voice, back arching upwards. Half lidded eyes looked down past his chest to where your hair is covering your head and subsequently his groin area. A lewd squelching sound hitting his muffled ears as your mouth gasps open, releasing his dick from the confines of your mouth. The sound alone was pushing him towards a blissful orgasm, but it was watching you tuck the messy strands of hair behind your ear, revealing your face with the pool of drool falling your plush, slickned lips that nearly had him cumming in waves.

"I like spoiling you." You tease, lowering your lips back down to his tip. "A man like you deserves to be spoiled every now and then."

Tongue dating out, it rims around the head of his cock before stroking up its whole length in no particular hurry. Warriors head falls back down onto the pillow, eyes screwed shut as his fingers reach out for the top of your head. You let his fingers tangle into your hair as your lips part around him, but refuse to budge as he less than gently encourages you to take in more of him. The pitiful whine it elicits is music to your ears, rewarding him by taking another meer inch into your mouth.

"I should be the one spoiling you." He counters, hips bucking up to try and sink deeper into your warmth.

You hum out your disapproval, knowing damn well he's been spoiling you every chance he gets since the moment he met you. The vibration makes him groan deeply, bordering a growl as he continues his pursuit in getting himself deeper inside you. You oblige, letting him slide in further. Not all the way, your airway wasn't quite ready for that yet, but enough that he filled your entire mouth before you slide back up.

'I don't see you trying to stop me." You tease, letting your hand take over the work for a moment.

"Maybe I wanna see what you're capable of Doll Face."

Warriors always did love a good challenge, but it still took you for a bit of a loop when he brought it into the bedroom. Not that you minded all that much tonight, you had already been determined to make him squirm beneath you untill he begging for a release from your mouth alone. If you got the satisfaction of winning this little challenge on top of it, well who were you to complain?

"Is that so?" Tone laced with something darker, you stare up at him with wide 'innocence' in your eyes. A twitch of his eye has you grinning wickedly, teasing his tip with the pal of your hand, rubbing it lightly in slow circles. "Cause I think I'm gonna make you cum with nothing but my mouth."

A blush deepens on the apples of his cheeks, staining them the same shade of red as his aching cock. You don't let him respond, continuing with your tongue exactly where you had left off. Whatever it was he was about to say died in a gutted moan, eyes slipping closed while his mouth still hung open. You let your head sink lower onto him, picking up the pace to match the racing of his breathing as it began stuttering into puffs of air.

Warriors cursed. And you grinned, doubling your efforts. You hallowed your cheeks, careful to scrape your teeth against his length as you sucked it from head to base and back.

"Atta girl" Warriors growls, hand landing atop your head so fast you almost mistook it for a smack. His fingers curled into a fist, tangling into your hair at the base of your skull. His hips now had a mind of their own, trying to buck up into you ferociously, begging you to keep going the way you were. You obliged, repeatedly reminding yourself to try and keep breathing as you sank far enough so that his cock hit the back of your throat.

The room filled with the sloppy sound of dribbling saliva. It was wet, slick and sinful; mixed between the gagged breaths you struggle to maintain. But it was worth it. Every slick slurp and squelched drool was matched by words of praise pouring out of Warriors own agaped mouth.

"Fuck.

Your so fucking good at that.

I don't fucking deserve you.

I'm so fucking lucky.

You feel so good baby!

Hylia, you spoil me too much "

On and on he went, singing your praise as you worked him. The faster you went, the more words spilled from his mouth, garbled together in a mush of affection till the 3 magic words finally escaped him.

"I-I...fuck. Fuck I'm gonna cum."

Throat raw, saliva smeared across the lower half of your face, you refused to let up. You were so close. You could taste your victory in the salty precum dribbling out of him. Doubling down, fingers wrapped around his base, covering what your mouth no longer could without possibly losing whatever was in your stomach from how much gagging you had done. A rough squeeze. Adding a twist to the wrist and he was done for.

With a shout, warm cum shot into your mouth as the man beneath you squirmed. Gradually, you slowed down, letting go and pulling yourself off of him with a string of thick cum stretched between you.

Silence fell as you flopped down beside him. Chests rose and fell, eyelids slipping close in a blissful moment of peace. An arm slung over your waist, tugging you closer till you were flush against Wars bare chest. His head tucked into the book of your neck, breath ghosting over your collarbone. You mean against him, soaking up his warmth that flies through you in a comforting wave.

"You spoil me." Warriors pants, placing kisses along your neck. His hand slides up your form, cupping your cheek as he lifts his face up to yours. "How the hell did I get so lucky?"

You hum, cheeks blushing under his gaze. You wipe away some of the saliva still coating your mouth, leaning up and kissing the apple of his sweaty cheek. He wraps you in his arms, tucking you securely to him as you both continue to lay there for a moment before Warriors speaks once more.