#bf2

In other words, he was riding his ass about his least favorite thing—datawork. He hadn’t been sure Lando even knew how to read, what with him always breaking every rule in the Rebellion’s playbook.

But, as it turned out, he did indeed. Something about leaving a “flimsi trail” should plans go awry in the field. Shriv knew all too well how important it was to hold people accountable—Lando just seemed to think he was above “the law,” therefore Shriv figured he should be forgiven for assuming otherwise.

And he was tired of getting blamed for other people’s kark ups! Sure, he was the officer in charge of that particular squad, but they were adults! Grown men and women that shouldn’t need him to hold their hands—not that he would—just to sign off on a couple of forms!

He had spent his entire walk thinking about all the things he was going to say to you, none of them nice, but the second he knocked on your door at 0200 hours, his mind went blank, the Duros grimacing in your face the moment you answered—but at least he had caught you off guard.

Good.

He imagined his mug might even keep you up tonight after he left, if he scowled hard enough, that is—Shriv, not being the prettiest by human standards. You already looked flustered. Hells, some folks were even scared of him, particularly those recruits forced to train under his command. He seemed to have a way with words, or so he was told.

Shriv would argue he just said things like they were. Sugar was for space babies, no reason to coat the truth in the stuff when he felt it would be doing a disservice. If you, or anyone else couldn’t handle the heat, it was just as well that they got out of the galley. But what Shriv wasn’t expecting was for you to open the door in nothing but your skivvies and a T-shirt, you thinking that this must be some kind of emergency for him to be here, lingering outside your humble residence—it was a small room about the same size as anyone else’s aboard the Restoration, though filled with a few of your personal effects.

“Shriv?” you asked, your voice a pretty melody to his lack of ears the way you said his name like that, your lovely eyes darting to and fro both behind and around him, looking for what the matter was while you attempted to catch your breath.

“Huh.”

“Uh—” was all he could think to say, wondering just when, and how, you had gotten so damn beautiful. “I got your e-mail. I wanted to—” The Duros cleared his throat, trying not to let his eyes trail down your waist, hips, legs … “—to, uh. Talk. Talk about—”

Little did he know that the human’s heart in front of him was beating just as fast as his, though he could sense you had an elevated temperature from the way your flesh changed colors. Shriv was now completely unaware of anything else besides your half-naked form before him. It was rather inconvenient when he was supposed to be upset.

You finally realized just what he was staring at, having been so engrossed in your previous ‘activity’ that you failed to notice you had forgotten to throw on pants. You thought surely for anyone to call at this late hour meant the situation was dire, yet here he was—Shriv Suurgav—one of the toughest, most hard-nosed officers of the Rebel Alliance stuttering outside your door.

He was also one of the most handsome.        

Your blood had rushed to your cheeks, warming your skin. It was a well-kept secret you appreciated the Duros species as a whole, and him especially; his datawork was always so thorough and precise.

While others steered clear, you made it a point to travel the path Shriv took on the daily, keeping toward the back of the Restoration’s war room during briefings, recording everything that was said; every decision that was made, shamelessly watching his every move.

Besides, it was your job.

It was those times he left the ship that you were always worried sick. You didn’t want anyone to get hurt, least of all Shriv.

You couldn’t help but eavesdrop on any and all open channels, desperate for a word; to hear his voice; to know that he had come home safe, but never in your wildest dreams did you imagine him searching you out, and over something that seemed so … trivial.

“You wanna … come in?” you asked, reaching out, your arm disappearing just out of Shriv’s periphery.

He was both a little disappointed and relieved when you draped a robe over your shoulders, watching as you folded both sides across your chest as if you had suddenly caught cold.

Did he want to come in? Should he? He supposed it was better than standing awkwardly out in the hall. “Yeah, OK.”

You moved a little to the left; Shriv stepped over your threshold; the door slid shut behind him.

Now that he was here, he felt he shouldn’t be.

“This could have waited until morning.”

“Well, so could her e-mail.”

“Can I get you anything? Caf?” you asked.

“I suppose so,” Shriv replied, not being able to help himself. “Guess you could use a little pick-me-up for all those e-mails you’re liable to send. Busy night and all.”

You arched a brow, turning toward your small kitchenette to gather two mugs from an overhanging cabinet. “Come again?” you queried; you had sent your last correspondence well over an hour ago.

Oh, that did it. Now Shriv remembered just how pissed he had been, how close to sleep he was, that little ding on his comm waking him right back up.

“Don’t play coy with me. You know what you did,” Suurgav said, his tone even and a little dry.

You set the caf cups down and turned around. He had more than piqued your curiosity. And to tell the truth, seeing him standing there, right in the center of your room was igniting your imagination, though you needed little help in that regard. “What’s this about?”

Shriv’s big red eyes traveled quickly from surface to surface; he turned his head to the left and right. You watched in fascination until he spotted that which he was after, the Duros stalking toward your bed.

Your own eyes widened in horror as he snatched up your datapad—the one not assigned to you for work. This was your personal, private datapad. It never left your room, so you always left it unlocked, never once thinking to add a password.

“Thiss. THIS is what—this—is about,” Shriv waved the device loosely in his hand. Then, he did the unthinkable. He opened it. “I was—this—close to falling asleep. And what do I get? A message from none other than little miss flimsi pusher.”

He held up the screen, not paying attention to what was actually brandished across its surface. Just then, a mortifying cacophony of noises rang out in the open: the sounds of moans and kissing, wet squelches, deep growls, and the rustling of sheets. It pervaded every corner of your small abode.

To top it off, Shriv had somehow turned the volume up when he meant to throw it across the room. He’d nearly fumbled it, only catching it—reluctantly—before the source of your ails hit solid ground. You had covered your mouth, completely humiliated, just as Suurgav brought it back up to his face.

“Oh, Zorkas.”

He had found your holo-romance. The one where the Duros was karking the human girl.

Well, not so much a romance as—

“How do I--?!”

Shriv didn’t finish his question, long blue fingers clumsily attempting to adjust the volume but to no avail. Seconds felt like hours. You finally collected yourself enough to rush forward, turning the damn thing off and tossing it far, far away; it landed in a pile of laundry you had forgone folding.

Then, you stared at each other. All was quiet when just a moment ago the girlish shrieks of a woman getting plowed by Duros dick had echoed loudly over every square inch of your apartment. The look Shriv gave you was one of intrigue, confusion, and shock. You did not think you would ever live this down.

“Well, that was interesting.”

Your eyes welled with unbidden tears; you could not control it. You had never felt more embarrassed in your life. Not only had someone found your private collection of pornography, but it had been him—the man you fancied. Before you knew it, you were crying of all things.

Could this night get any worse?! You seriously doubted it.

“Whoa, hey, it’s …” Shriv meant to say ‘all right,’ but he wasn’t entirely sure that it was, or that it ever would be again, not in the professional sense.

“How do you come back from that? I’d most likely have jumped out the air lock if I was in her shoes. Not that she’s wearing any.”

The fact Suurgav didn’t complete his sentence only made you cry harder. You wished to flee, to leave the room, but you had nowhere else to go—this was your quarters.

“Well, it isn’t that bad—I mean, I’d probably feel embarrassed, but it’s not the end of the—”

You turned your back on him; his words were not helping any.

“Ah, geez.” Shriv stepped forward and rested one of his hands atop your shoulder. “It could be worse, right? At least I’m the only one here and it wasn’t in the middle of a meeting or something … I won’t tell anyone,” he added.

This was the first time he had ever touched you. Sure, maybe you’d brushed arms in one of the narrow hallways, skirting past one another on the way to your respective destinations, but this was meant to be for the sake of comfort. Despite everything, you did not take it for granted. In fact, looking back, you would realize you took advantage.

You turned around; Shriv stepped back to give you space. You didn’t want space; you wanted to be closer.

You took a chance; you laid your head against his chest, your body mildly quaking with the release of every teardrop onto your soft cheeks. The Duros hesitated; you felt him stiffen. You nearly pulled away for fear of backlash, but instead he lifted both his arms and hugged you to himself, his embrace so careful it caused your heart to flit.

Rather than saying something reassuring, he felt he had to comment, bringing attention to the fact you had a type.

“Soooo …. A Duros, huh?”

Shriv wondered why he felt so comfortable embracing you; he had hardly ever spoken to you. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact you’d started it, or that maybe, just maybe, you might like him.

“Yeah, right. A girl like this? You’d only be so lucky.”

Shriv felt your shoulders harden; he felt the pounding of your heart. He heard the pathetic whimper you gave in response; you were shaking like a leaf. “I never meant for you to see that,” you whispered. “For anyone to see that. But especially not you.”

“Why ‘especially not me?’”

You cringed. You had just given yourself away.

Slowly, you lifted your head to peer up at him. He seemed entirely oblivious, though within the next few seconds he must have had some kind of epiphany, because his eyes lit up like a kid’s on Life Day. “You—you don’t mean to say—”

Kark it all—

—you kissed him, pushing up off of your bare feet to smash your lips against his. Shriv made a sound of surprise, or maybe it was protest. Whatever it may be, it caused you to second guess. You quickly withdrew, feeling worse off than before.

“I’m sorry,” you pleaded, backing into the counter of your kitchenette. Your own fingers lightly touched your lips, savoring the sensation that remained, notwithstanding the fact you had just thrown yourself at him. “It’s just that I like you,” you blurted out.

Stupid, stupid.

“Well, well, well, you were right, Shriv. Then again, you always are.”

“I mean, she pretty much laid it out for you with the whole Duros-porn thing.”

“You like me, or you like Duros?” Shriv questioned matter of fact. He watched as your bottom lip quivered, as if he had hurt your feelings.

“Good going, jerk. You should probably take what you can get.”

“Hey, it’s a valid question!”

“Both,” you meekly replied, knowing what it looked like.

“Hmm,” Shriv rumbled, taking a laggard step forward toward you.  He pinned you in, reflective ruby eyes scanning your breasts up toward your face now that your robe had fallen open. “And just what is it that you like about me?”

You swallowed down your spit, feeling what those cadets must feel—intimidation—under his steady gaze. You wavered; you tried to peel your eyes away from his, but he took up your chin, pinching it lightly between his thumb and fore, causing a burning heat to spread in the seat of your belly.

“You’re—you’re funny; s-smart; witty.”

“Uh huh, go on,” Shriv prompted, leaning closer. So close that you could smell him. His scent reminded you of something earthy, or a like fresh rain back home. There was a hint of something else as well—was that Saffron? Musk? Akigalawood?

You decided to get personal.

“You’re underutilized. Lando hardly ever listens to you, but you have so many good ideas and things to say. You’re thorough, precise, and never compromise your principles for anyone, not even your superiors.”

“I—well—”

“You carry yourself with dignity, even in the face of danger. Your heart is made of gold, and your eyes are carved from gemstones.”

“You—you think so?”

You walked him back this time, levering yourself with the aid of your palms. Shriv stood up straighter, his grip faltering as you took the lead.

“You’re kind, selfless, courageous, sexy—”

“—I mean, I don’t know about all—”

“—and I wish that I could fuck you,” you whispered, grasping the side of his face that bore a scar. You peppered kisses along the corner of his mouth; they were slow and soft.

Shriv held his breath; something in him stirred.

Was he really all those things? And just why couldn’t he be? Maybe he was. You had said so, after all.

And it made him feel things, funny things, things he wasn’t sure he ought to feel. But you staring at him like that, kissing him like that—

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“That wasn’t on my bingo card,” the Duros quipped, “but it’d be rude to say no.” It wasn’t every day a gorgeous woman, and a human at that, desired to take him to bed. To turn you down would be asinine. Besides, why should Calrissian always be the one to score?

“I mean, originally I came here to yell at you, but now I’m not even really that angry anymo—”

Your arms encapsulated his neck; your lips engulfed his. Shriv remained calm, taking it all in stride. And he was proud of himself for that; he’d never felt this desired in all his days. It was a nice change of pace, he just hoped he could live up to that pedestal you’d put him on.

“Shriv,” you muttered, just wanting to say his name, just wanting to taste him, slipping your warm, human tongue inside his fang-filled mouth.

“Careful, those are—”

You moaned directly into the kiss, pushing deeper, grinding yourself against his uniform.

“—sharp,” Shriv mentally noted. It was all he could do. His thoughts were becoming clouded, he felt his own core temperature rising, feeding off your body heat. He was beginning to “wake up,” to truly comprehend just what he had gotten himself into, and you were hyperaware of everything apparently, because the moment he felt a twinge below the belt, your hand had found what caused it, making the Duros flinch under the weight of your palm.

“Careful with those, too,” Shriv remarked, though he admired your enthusiasm. It was obvious he had set something in motion because you pulled back just enough to stare directly at him—or through him—some kind of unreadable expression having overtaken your face.

If he weren’t already so turned on, he may have felt self-conscious, Shriv blinking a bit too rapidly. “Well, I-I-I mean, I won’t break …”

You dropped to your knees; Shriv’s eyes widened. You wasted no time in unbuttoning his trousers, desperate to see ‘things’ for yourself. You were so excited you could hardly contain your glee, nudging, kissing, biting the bulge that resided just beneath his boxers.

Boxers.

For some reason, you thought other species might wear different types of underwear.

“Are you sure you wanna—”

Shriv gasped as you slurped down one half of his hemi, it quickly devolving to a moan.

“Yep, ssssshe’s sure.”

It was like you already knew what to do; he wondered how many Duros you had been with before him, or if you just watched too much porn for your own good.

“That’s …”

“Karabast.”

Your tongue whorled around the slick, malleable column of one cock, while the other was caressed by your gentle, human fingers. Your cheeks hollowed as you danced around him, your sucking drawn-out and rhythmic, the pliant, wet muscle of your mouth treating fellatio the same way you had that passionate kiss.

Shriv didn’t know how long he was going to last, feeling so many sensations, all of them good—better than good. He felt like he needed to sit down, or his knees might buckle, struggling not to cum too soon so he didn’t just outright shame himself; it had been a minute since he had the time to even jerk himself off, he was so busy.

“You’re a marksman, Shriv. You’ve remained still for hours on end, waiting for a target that might not ever show—you can stay standing long enough to get your dick sucked.”

“S-sweetheart, you’re a little too good at thiss—I’m gonna—if you don’t ssslow down,” the Duros warned.

You felt something akin to cuteness aggression welling up inside you. Your nails clawed into his bare thighs. His lisp only made you suck him harder, faster, the sounds of his adorable moans reaching all the way down to your cunt; you were soaking wet.

“Whoa-kay, you’re not gonna—"

Shriv came despite himself, his second cock’s tip tightening around your fingers. It was prehensile, the movement reflexive; you were overjoyed to engorge yourself, swallowing every drop he had to give—it was sour, but a little sweet, and reminded you of candy.

You only allowed his prick to retreat from your mouth once he was spent.

Shriv ambled backward, though he managed to find the edge of your bed. You crawled forward on your hands and knees as the poor dear panted, watching with slight apprehension as you came closer.

“What are you …”

You latched onto his boots with both hands and took them off, one by one. Next, his socks were gone. You couldn’t help it and kissed his toes, all the way up to his ankles.

Shriv made a face, though nothing seemed to bother you.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He hated the idea of subjecting you to what he presumed were his stinky feet.

You only grinned, tugging his pants the rest of the way down, and off. You pressed your palms against his knees as you pushed up; Shriv watched you, still in recovery mode as he tried to predict what you’d do next.

“A lady of her word, are you?” Shriv breathed; your fingers tugged at his jacket, prying at the stop of his zipper. You pulled it down incrementally; Shriv smirked, realizing he was about to wind up completely naked, and he was OK with that.

“You next,” he said.

You were up and off him; you obeyed without question, removing your robe, your ratty T-shirt, to reveal your breasts in their full glory.

Shriv had nothing to say to that; he found he could no longer move his mouth, nor was his brain cooperating to help him form words of any kind, especially ones that were coherent.

“Uh—mm … heh,” he managed.

“Boobs. Wish we had those.”

“Well, not me personally. Duros.”

“Bet she wishes she had two … you know.”

“One’s just fine.”

Your panties were next; you shimmied them down your thighs, knees, shins, then kicked them off. You were a sight to behold and Suurgav was drinking you in like that cup of caf you’d offered.

Then again, he hadn’t actually had any. Things had gotten a little … offtrack since then, not that he was complaining any, and he did that a lot.

Shriv tested the waters; he wanted to see how much you might divulge to him. “You’re … really something. Beautiful. But I bet you hear that a lot,” he prompted. “Maybe from … other Duros,” he snuck in.

“Not at all smooth.”

Your mischievous grin softened into a smile. You shook your head then climbed on top of him. Shriv leaned backward and gazed up into your glimmering eyes with his of jasper, his horizontal pupils adjusting to the shadow your body cast.

The rebel pilot was unsure he would get anything more out of you, but he thought he’d just have to be content with that. To have you here, now, should be enough, though he dumbly seemed to form attachments way too soon, whether he would ever admit to it or not.

“No,” you whispered, your warm breath tickling his hearing organ; Shriv felt a shiver rake down his spine. “No one else has told me that in ages.”

“Oh, good.” Shriv thought that over. “I mean, not good that you haven’t heard it, because it’s true, but good that I’m the only one telling you.” Shriv thought it over a little more. “Not that I have to be the only one telling you or anything. You’re a grown woman who can make her own—”

Your smile stretched wider before your lips found his again. He was nervous, and it made you giddy to know you had that effect on him. It was as if all your dreams were coming true, thanks to a well-timed e-mail.

“—Fuck me,” you interrupted.

Shriv went quiet then. A moment passed before he spoke again. “Yes, ma’am,” he whispered back.

It was as if he turned into a different Duros, the breadth of his palm cupping your face as he drew you in close to kiss. You leant over him, eager to return it, your breasts brushing against cool scales, causing your nipples to perk.

Shriv pinched one for good measure; you mildly gasped. He took the opportunity to slip his tongue inside your open mouth, just as his secondary cock slithered up, up, pushing past the boundary of your sex to sequester itself deep inside the walls of your cunt.

“Shit, shit,” you intoned, your belly expanding and contracting rapidly as Shriv settled into you. It felt so fucking good; he spread you sooo fucking wide, so much so, that you belted out a sound of pleasure like that of the girl on your holo-romance.

“Are you all right? Or does it really feel that good,” Shriv asked, an iota of smugness lacing his tone.

You nodded, though it was up to him to figure out what you meant by that, yet you held your breath, urging your body to become accustomed to his girth, the shape of his phallus, the range of motion he could subject you to, your belly tightening once more as he curled his cock inside you, pressing against what he knew to be a very sensitive place.

Your breath caught in your lungs; your chest froze mid-inhalation. You came instantly, coating his dick in your warm excess.

Suddenly Shriv didn’t feel so bad for doing the same thing earlier, a twisted little smile upturning the corner of his mouth. “Is it always thiss easy?” he asked.

You shook your head in the negative; Shriv hummed a little “hmm.” He clamped onto your waist with his broad hands, thinking he could see his own protuberance inside you as he coiled once more against your G-spot.

“Fuck—” you muttered, falling forward onto your hands. Shriv wasted no time in lifting his hips, beginning to use the powerful muscles of his thighs to force you to ride him as your fingers dug into the arches of his shoulder blades.

“That’s what you wanted, right? To kark me?” Shriv asked playfully, nuzzling the flat of his face against the side of your ear. Everything, all of it, was too perfect, so you wept. Shriv felt a drop of something moist and warm pelt his cheek.

He stopped. “Hey, hey—does it hurt?” he asked, concerned.

You shook your head again. “Don’t stop,” you begged.

Shriv, somewhat uneasily, abided by your order, though the crease of his brow remained fixed—that was until you orgasmed a second time.

“Shriv … I’ve fantasized about this so many times,” you admitted, though you did not confess of your own volition—it was the fault of your emotions, of your brain, overwhelmed by sensation, by smell.

Shriv reached up and pushed a loose strand of your hair away from your face, though the motion of his hips never ceased; it was slow and resolute, his other hand gliding down your hip to sneak its way between your thighs.

“A good fantasy, right?” he asked, as if he didn’t already know the answer, the tips of his lengthy index and middle fingers brushing against the top of your clit before they slid down to massage it; he worked the little nub with as much precision as he did his datawork.

“Like heaven,” you murmured, finding yourself, once more taking control of your body to undulate your hips in line with his. Shriv’s face softened; he closed his eyes. He was focused on a feeling, chasing his own high as he continued to trace a pattern over your delicate nerve-endings, your cunt clenching around the width of his cock.

“Just like that,” you coaxed, riding him as gingerly as his touch was thoughtful, Shriv closing his mouth entirely, not having a single smartassed comment left in his arsenal, only a tight-lipped admonition.

“Thiss is dangerous,” he cautioned. “I know something about danger,” he affirmed, though his mind was elsewhere, drifting, drifting …

“Don’t cum inside, don’t cum inside, don’t cum inside,”

“Come inside me,”

“Fierfek.”

You felt a cool rush, the frisson of something filling you, the sudden surge of Shriv’s ejaculate coating your insides as you had willed it to. You rode him to completion, the Duros gripping you tightly, clasping you to himself like some cherished object, the feeling of his heart thumping against his ribs echoing through you, matching pace with your own.

Once finished, you slowly rose, the sticky, wet sheen drifting down your legs to leave marks on your sheets. You collapsed on top of him; Suurgav would allow you to remain, ever so subtly pulling you in more closely.

“This is not how I expected my night to go,” Shriv chortled wryly. “I expected the exact opposite, in fact.” The Duros tilted his head so as to look down at your prone form. “Maybe you won’t try to sass me anymore, hm?”

You gave an involuntary yawn. “As long as you do what you’re supposed to do.”

“And what, pray tell, is that?” Shriv asked a little too snidely.

You couldn’t help but to smile as you started to nod off; it was hard not to feel safe and protected in his big, strong arms.