#clone captain howzer

The dust on Ryloth had a way of settling into every crevice, much like the ones you kept your secrets in. For months, the relationship between you and Howzer existed solely in the quiet, stolen moments between briefings and skirmishes. It was a careful dance of disciplined glances, formal salutes that lingered half of a second too long, and whispers in the dim light of command tents when the rest of the galaxy was asleep. You both had always been careful. 

Or so you thought.

The illusion of your perfect secrecy didn't shatter under the scrutiny of the Jedi Council, nor was it exposed by a careless transmission intercepted by the Separatists. Instead, it was dismantled entirely due to a Twi'lek child with a love for wandering exactly where she wasn’t supposed to.

On a blistering afternoon near the Lessu outskirts, you were standing under the temporary shade of a canopy, reviewing supply logistics with Cham Syndulla. As always, he was intensely focused on the well being of his people, his lekku twitching slightly as he pointed out the dwindling rations and the desperate need for medical supplies. You were listening intently, which was likely why neither of you noticed the sudden commotion approaching from the nearby military perimeter.

You eventually looked up, only to find Howzer marching toward the canopy. He held his helmet against his hip. His other hand was firmly, but gently gripping the shoulder of a very small and very dusty Hera Syndulla.

Hera looked thoroughly unbothered, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, a stubborn pout across face. Her cap was slightly crooked, coated in a fine layer of orange Ryloth sand.

"General. General Syndulla," Howzer addressed you both, his voice laced with a mixture of authority and exhaustion of a man who had spent the last twenty minutes chasing a child. He came to a sharp halt, "Apologies for the interruption, but I found a stray."

Cham’s eyes narrowed instantly, his demeanor shifting to that of a deeply exasperated father in the span of a single heartbeat. "Hera," he groaned, placing his hands on his hips. "What did I tell you about leaving the palace perimeter?"

"I didn't leave the perimeter," Hera grumbled, kicking at a loose pebble with the toe of her boot. "I was exploring."

"She was exploring the secondary fuel yards, sir," Howzer corrected gently, "Right alongside the heavy transport loading zones. She was hiding between two rhydonium canisters when I spotted her."

Cham let out a long, heavy breath, rubbing the bridge of his nose. The stress of leading a rebellion was nothing compared to the stress of keeping up with his daughter's boundless curiosity. "Hera, look at me," Cham scolded, his voice dropping into that strict, unyielding tone that only parents could manage. "The fuel yards are off limits. We are in the middle of a war zone. Those canisters could ignite, or a transport could easily miss you. You cannot simply go wherever you please and do things you are not supposed to do. There are rules for a reason, Hera. Everyone has to follow them."

Hera shifted her weight, her lekku swaying with a defiance that she undoubtedly inherited from her father. She looked up at Cham, then darted her eyes over to Howzer, and finally to you. A strange glint sparked in her eyes. It was one that made a sudden, inexplicable knot form in the pit of your stomach.

"Why do I always get in trouble when I do things I’m not supposed to do?" Hera asked, stomping her foot into the ground. She pointed a small, accusing finger straight at Howzer. "Captain Howzer doesn't get in trouble."

Cham blinked, momentarily thrown off balance by the deflection. "The Captain is a soldier, Hera. He follows orders."

"No, he doesn't! Not all the time," Hera protested, her pout deepening as she bared the ultimate bargaining chip of a child caught red handed. "He doesn't get in trouble for kissing the Jedi. He's not allowed to do that, right? I saw him. Behind the communications tent last week. He did it anyway."

The silence that followed was deafening.

You felt the blood rush to your face, as heat began spreading across your cheeks and neck. Your hands froze against the datapad you were holding. You looked over at Howzer, whose entire body had gone completely rigid. Through the Force, you could feel the waves of sheer panic rolling off him. Howzer looked as though he had just been shot. 

Both you and Howzer stood silent, unsure how to deflect this so suddenly.

But before you could speak, Cham broke the silence.

A slow, incredibly amused smile spread across his face. He let out a soft chuckle, the tension entirely draining from his shoulders as he looked between you and your utterly mortified captain.

"Is that so?" Cham nodded, his eyes crinkling at the corners with genuine warmth. He looked down at his daughter, tapping her head playfully. "Well, Hera, what the Captain and the General chose to do is their choice. But you are still a child, and you are still grounded. Now go back to the palace and find your mother.”

Hera let out a dramatic sigh, realizing her deflection had failed to save her from her punishment, and began dragging her feet back to the palace.

Cham turned his attention back to the two of you. His smile softened, turning into something deeply empathetic and completely devoid of judgment. As a man who had loved and built a family in the middle of a rebellion, he knew exactly what it was like to grasp onto whatever light you could find in the dark.

"I’m sorry about that." Cham apologized for his daughter, his tone quiet enough to ensure it didn't travel beyond the shade of the canopy. "However, hiding something like that while being leaders for a planet wide rebellion, it’s a heavy burden."

You swallowed hard, finally finding your voice, "General Syndulla, I assure you, our priorities remain-"

Cham held up a hand, gently cutting you off. "You do not need to defend yourselves to me. Ryloth owes you both everything. If there is anything I can ever do to make things a little easier for you two, to give you some peace, you let me know." He looked over his shoulder to Hera, who was nearing the palace entrance, "Consider it a fair trade for helping me keep up with Hera's daily shenanigans. Clearly I need all the help I can get with her."

True to his word, Cham didn't waste any time fulfilling that promise.

When the military campaign eventually shifted its command operations to the capital city of Lessu, the Republic forces were mandated to take up residence within the outskirts of Orn Free Taa's palace. The place was a testament to political greed. It was vast, opulent, and filled with winding corridors, towering archways, and excessive luxury that felt entirely inappropriate during a war. Normally, a Jedi would have been assigned to a guest room within the palace and the clones would be assigned to separate military quarters. 

But Cham had intervened.

Using his leverage, Cham had quietly manipulated your lodging assignment. When you were handed the access key to your new quarters, you discovered you weren’t placed in the standard guest room. Instead, you had been assigned a private, suite style apartment tucked away deep within the Syndulla’s wing of the palace.

It was a small sanctuary. Positioned far away from prying eyes, casual foot traffic, and the strict, watchful gaze of the Republic. It was the one place in the galaxy where a General and a Captain could completely disappear. Because of a little girl's mischief and a father's understanding, you finally had a genuinely safe, private space to just be together.

It’s been months now since you’ve been in the suite, and truthfully, there was nothing you could do to repay the Syndullas for their generosity. 

A security breach earlier in the evening threw Orn Free Taa’s palace into a tense panic. Hours were spent tracking signals and verifying sensor grids, ensuring that no Separatist assassins or local saboteurs had slipped through the cracks of the capital's defenses.

By the time you finally completed the grueling, final perimeter check of the high stone walkways, your muscles ached with deep exhaustion. 

Stepping into a secluded alcove of the perimeter, you pulled your comlink from your pocket. You pressed the secure frequency.

"I'm finishing up the final sweep now," you whispered into the receiver, "Everything is secure. I’m heading in."

There was a brief crackle of static before a familiar voice filtered through the speaker. "Copy that, General. The door is unlocked."

The sheer comfort that washed over you at the sound of his voice was enough to put a spring back into your step. Leaving the cold stone perimeter behind, you navigated the ckrridors of the palace, slipping past the occasional patrolling guard until you reached the isolated, quiet hallways of the Syndulla’s wing.

When you reached the door of your suite, you slid the access key across the lock. Stepping inside, it didn’t take long to find him.

Right in the center of the living room couch, was Howzer.

He was sitting on the plush, oversized couch, completely stripped of his armor. He was wearing a pair of civilian sweatpants and a loose fitting short sleeve top. His legs were stretched out comfortably across the couch. A holodrama was playing on the screen across from him, casting blue shadows across the room.

When the door slid open and shut, Howzer didn't even turn his head to look at you. He remained perfectly still, his eyes apparently fixed on the screen.

A playful smile instantly tugged at the corners of your lips. You were trained to perceive everything around you, but right now, you didn't need the Force to know exactly what he was doing. He was most likely teasing you by deliberately pretending to be completely engrossed in the show just to see what you would do.

You certainly weren't going to let the opportunity go to waste.

Kicking off your boots by the entryway, you stepped onto the soft rugs, taking a slow, looping route that brought you directly behind the back of the couch.

Howzer still didn't move, though if you looked closely, you could see the tiny twitch at the corner of his eye. He knew exactly where you were.

Leaning over the back of the couch, you draped your arms loosely over his shoulders. You leaned down, burying your face briefly into the side of his neck before pressing a soft kiss against his warm cheek.

Howzer didn't startle in the slightest. Instead, the moment your lips touched his skin, a smile broke across his face. He reached up with one hand to firmly grip your forearm, anchoring you against him.

"Welcome back," he hummed. He tilted his head back against the cushion, looking up at you upside down with warm eyes. "I was starting to think you were going to stay out on the perimeter all night."

"And skip this?" you teased, leaning your chin on his shoulder, looking over at his face. "Not a chance. I'm exhausted."

"I can tell," he agreed, his thumb tracing a gentle, soothing circle against your wrist. He shifted slightly, turning his head so he could press a kiss to the outside of your hand. "Don’t get me wrong, you look beautiful. But you look tired."

"It was a long sweep," you sighed, letting your eyes flutter shut for a moment. 

"Well, the good news is, everything’s clear," Howzer said, his smile turning a little bit wicked as he looked up at you. "I've already showered, but I'm not opposed to taking another one right now if you want me to join you."

You let out a soft, breathy laugh against his shoulder, opening your eyes to look at him. "Oh, really? The Captain draws up the plans now?"

Howzer rolled his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck. It was only then that you noticed the tips of his hair were still clumping together, holding onto the dampness from the shower.

"More of a strong recommendation, General," he replied playfully. He gestured to the floor near the entryway where his armor was sitting. "That sandstorm this afternoon had me absolutely filthy. I swear, orange grit gets into the seals and just stays there. I felt like a walking sandbox. I figured I'd better get it all off my skin before you got back."

Reaching out, you slid your fingers into his damp hair, gently scratching your nails against his scalp.

Howzer instantly let out a long, shuddering sigh, his eyes rolling shut as his entire body completely melted under your touch. There were few Clones in the GAR that got to experience the simple luxury of someone touching their hair, and Howzer was absolutely defenseless against it. He leaned heavily into your touch, a look of pure, blissful surrender washing over his face as you scratched a few more times, tracing the neat lines of his haircut.

"Never stop," he mumbled, his voice thick and sleepy. "Never stop doing that."

"As much as I would love to take you up on that second shower, Captain," you cooed affectionately, giving his damp hair one last gentle tug before pulling your hand away, "I think I just need a few minutes to rinse off the dust myself. I'll be right back."

"Take your time," Howzer slowly opened his eyes, his gaze filled with an overflow of quiet devotion as he watched you step away. "I'm not going anywhere."

You smiled, turning toward the refresher of the suite, the heavy fatigue in your bones suddenly feeling a whole lot lighter knowing he was waiting right there for you.

The hot water of the shower worked wonders, washing away all the built up sand from your skin. When you finally stepped out, you felt incredibly better. You pulled on your favorite set of cozy loungewear and attempted to dry your hair with a towel before you stepped back into the main living space. 

The ambient golden lighting of the suite felt incredibly welcoming. Before heading back to Howzer, you made a brief detour toward the small kitchen alcove. The cool air of the small fridge hit your skin as you opened it, browsing the shelves before pulling out a small bowl of fresh fruit that Cham brought over a couple of days prior.

Popping a sweet piece into your mouth, you turned back toward the living room, cradling the bowl in one hand. As you approached the couch, your eyes naturally drifted down to the table.

Sitting right there, was a bright, slightly crumpled piece of flimsiplast. You must have missed it when you initially walked in.

You let out a soft laugh, setting the bowl of fruit down on the table as you reached for the flimsi. "What in the stars is this?" you asked, a smile already playing on your lips.

"Take a guess," he rumbled softly, "It was waiting right there on the table when I got back from the barracks."

You turned the flimsi over. Written on the back in giant Aurebesh letters was a single name: HERA.

You let out a half laugh, turning the flimsi back over to inspect the actual drawing. It was exactly what you expected, yet it still made your heart swell. Done entirely in vibrant, heavily pressed crayons, it was a child's unmistakable rendering of the two of you.

On the left was a figure with an exaggerated amount of hair and a very bright blue streak that was clearly meant to be a lightsaber. On the right was a blocky teal figure. Hera had taken meticulous care to draw Howzer’s distinctive hair, though she had given him a smile so wide it nearly wrapped around his entire head. The two stick figures were holding hands, standing right in front of a giant, looping scribble.

"Well," you shrugged, your eyes never leaving the colorful page. "It looks like our favorite little lookout drew us a masterpiece."

Howzer shifted his position on the couch, allowing room for you to cuddle up next to him comfortably. The moment sank into the cushions, Howzer didn't hesitate. He moved closer to you, lifting his arm and draping it securely around your shoulders. He pulled you flush against his side, his palm resting gently against your upper arm. You leaned into him, resting your head against the crook of his neck, still holding the drawing up between you both.

"She certainly has an eye for detail," Howzer added, his voice vibrating right against your temple as he leaned down to look at the flimsi with you. He pointed at the blue crayon streak. "I think she made your lightsaber twice as big as it actually is. It’s very intimidating."

"She definitely captured your good side," you teased, tracing the giant crayon smile she had given him.  “She must think you smile like that all the time."

"Only when I'm in this room," Howzer replied softly. He pressed a gentle kiss into your damp hair, breathing in the clean scent of your shampoo.

You looked quietly at the drawing for a long moment. Your mind drifted back to the afternoon Howzer caught her in the fuel yards, and how he marched her back. You thought about how patient he always was with her, how he never talked down to her like the other officers sometimes did, and how his eyes always lit up whenever the little girl started rambling about starships and piloting.

"You know," you began, stretching to set the drawing down on the table, "I was thinking about last week when she tried to sneak into the gunships."

"If Twi’lek’s had hair, Cham would have pulled all of it out by now with her shenanigans," Howzer joked, though his tone was incredibly fond.

"Probably," you shrugged, turning your head slightly so you could look up at him. "But I really admire how you are with her, Howzer. Truly."

Howzer blinked, looking down at you. He seemed a little caught off guard by the sudden sincerity in your voice, his brow furrowing slightly in that gentle, curious way it always did when he was thinking deeply. "With Hera? I just treat her like any other citizen we're assigned to protect. Perhaps with a little more supervision."

"No, it's more than that," you insisted. You reached up, your fingers lightly resting against the center of his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath his shirt. "You're incredibly patient with her. You listen to her. Even when you're exhausted and dealing with a million logistics, you take her seriously."

You paused, your eyes locking onto his, "I was just thinking you'd make a really good father, Howzer."

The words were spoken softly, almost like a confession. Clones were created for one singular, brutal purpose. They were grown in glass tubes, raised in clinical barracks, and thrust into a galactic war before they even understood the concept of a normal life. To speak of fatherhood to a Clone was far beyond comprehension for most of them

For a second, Howzer just stared at you, before slowly, the most beautiful, breathtaking smile broke across his face. It wasn't the confident smile of a captain briefing his squad. It was entirely overflowing with an emotion so deep it made his eyes crinkle at the corners.

He tightened his arm around you, pulling you so close against his side that there was practically no space left between you. He leaned his head down, his nose brushing softly against yours, his breath warm against your lips.

"You think so?" he asked, his voice thick with affection, a playful spark dancing in his dark eyes as he looked down at you. "Well if we're putting out parental recommendations, I can think of someone who would make an absolutely incredible mother."

The sweetness of his comment lingered but as the seconds ticked by, a bittersweet gravity began to settle. It was an unwanted guest of a feeling, the kind that always seemed to hover just outside the borders of this small sanctuary, waiting to remind you both of who you were supposed to be.

​You let out a soft laugh, but it held a faint trace of melancholy. Leaning your head back into the crook of his neck, you looked up at the ceiling.

​"You're just saying that," you sighed, "You're biased."

​"I am not just saying that," Howzer countered instantly. He moved his head, his lips brushing against the temple of your forehead. "I've watched you on the battlefield, and I’ve watched you with the refugees. You carry the burden of an entire planet's suffering, yet you still have enough tenderness left over to listen to a little girl ramble for an hour. You're patient, you're fierce, and you protect the people around you with everything you have. I'm a soldier, I know a good leader when I see one, and you’d be an incredible mother. Bias has nothing to do with it."

You squeezed his hand, "Even if you're right, I’m sure the Jedi Council would be thrilled to know about this conversation. We are stretching the Code to its limit just by being in this room together."

​You swallowed hard, "And besides, it's not just the Council. The Kaminoans are meticulous, Howzer. They engineered your genetic makeup down to each exact gene. They probably made it as close to impossible as possible for a clone to even think about having a family of his own. And even if by some miracle it was possible, a pregnancy isn't exactly something I can hide from the Council. They would feel a shift in the Force before I could even try to explain."

​Howzer didn't tense up at your words. Instead, a quiet  hum rumbled deep within his chest. He tightened his arm around your shoulder, pulling you tightly against his side.

​"You're wrong about the Kaminoans," Howzer smirked.

​You blinked, tilting your head back up to look at him in surprise. "What do you mean?"

​"The first clones and the earliest generations of the regular infantry. The Kaminoans originally tried to make them completely sterile," Howzer explained, completely serious now. "They wanted total control over our biology. But according to the medical logs and the rumors that float around, suppressing those specific reproductive traits ended up accidentally degrading the genetic stability of us clones. It made us more susceptible to cellular breakdown, muscle fatigue, and immune deficiencies. In trying to engineer that out of us, they accidentally created a weaker soldier."

​You stared at him, your lips parting slightly. "I've never heard of this. It’s not in any official report I’ve reviewed."

​"Exactly," Howzer hummed, "It's what they want people to believe. The Kaminoans are proud. They would never admit to a flaw in their perfect cloning process. So they swept the data under the rug, reversed the suppression blocks for the rest of the production lines, and let everyone assume we were entirely manufactured from top to bottom. But biologically? We're as capable of having a life outside the military as any civilian."

​The revelation left you momentarily breathless. The concept of the clones' humanity was something you fought for every day, but hearing that their creators had been forced to leave them entirely human in that specific, fundamental way felt promising.

​"But even so," you reasoned, trying to ground the sudden, soaring feeling in your chest before it completely took over. "That still leaves the other thing. The Council would notice."

​"Would they?" Howzer interrupted. He shifted his position on the couch, turning his body so he was facing you completely. "Think about it. Technically, we’ve been stationed here on Ryloth for six standard months now. Because of the constant Separatist insurgencies and the strategic importance of the Outer Rim, the Council keeps extending our deployment. We have no orders to do anything else but stay here. There’s no sign of leaving anytime soon."

​A hopeful, bright spark kindled in his eyes, and you could feel the sudden, intense surge of emotion flowing through him. Howzer was completely engulfing himself in the idea now.

​"You could be full term right now, carrying a baby under those loose Jedi robes, and if we stayed within this wing of the palace, no one would ever know," Howzer whispered, his voice laced with breathless excitement.

​"Howzer, stop," you laughed, half shocked and half endeared, reaching up with your free hand to playfully swat at his chest. "Surely the other men in your squad would notice if their General suddenly stopped showing up to battle. And Senator Taa? He's a greedy, observant politician. And Cham? And Hera? You think a child that smart wouldn't notice?"

​"The men are fiercely loyal to you, and they follow my orders. They wouldn't say a word to the Republic," Howzer countered instantly, his smile widening, completely unstoppable now that the dam had broken. "Senator Taa is too busy stuffing his face and worrying about his political standing to ever pay attention to what's happening in the Syndulla wing. And Cham?" Howzer chuckled, "Cham already gave us this suite just so we could have a place to be together. If you were expecting, Cham would probably be the first one trying to help us hide it. He’d probably do anything just to ensure you were taken care of."

He was so completely captured by the vision.

​"We are sitting in a luxury palace in the middle of a war zone, talking about starting a family," you shook your head, “we’re delusional.”

​"It’s only us in this room," Howzer reminded you as he leaned in closer. He reached up, his hand gently cupping the side of your face, his thumb wiping away a stray lock of your hair. "We can say and do whatever we want."

Howzer’s words hung between you, not as a wild fantasy, but as a tangible, breathless possibility. The barrier of what was considered right and wrong seemed to thin under the intensity of his gaze, until all that remained was the reality of his hand on your cheek.

His thumb stroked your cheekbone, then drifted down, tracing the line of your jaw with a reverence that made your eyes flutter shut. When his fingers slid beneath your chin, tilting your face up to his, you opened them again. There was just Howzer, looking at you as if you were the only star in the sky.

“So, tell me what you want,” he whispered, his breath ghosting over your lips. “Right here, right now. Just us.”

“I think I’m looking at it,” you breathed out, the word barely more than a sigh. It was the truest thing you’d ever said.

A deep exhale escaped him. The hand on your face slid back, his fingers threading into your damp hair, holding you with a possessiveness that made you rigid. The other arm, still draped around your shoulders, tightened, pulling you from your position until you were half in his lap, your legs tangled with his.

“You have me,” he vowed, the words spoken against your mouth before he finally closed the last, torturous millimeter between you.

The kiss was not soft. It was claiming. His lips were firm and insistent, moving over yours with a hunger you’ve never experienced. You met it with equal fervor, your hands coming up to grip the fabric of his shirt, fisting it at his sides as you parted your lips for him. 

As the holodrama played on, its dialogue a meaningless buzz in the background, Howzer once again moved his hands.

One of his hands slid down from your hair and down your neck, his thumb pressing gently into the frantic pulse there before continuing its descent. It slipped beneath the loose hem of your top, his palm settling on your lower back. You arched into the touch, a gasp breaking the kiss.

“Howzer, I-”

“I know,” he growled, his lips leaving yours to blaze a trail down your jaw to your neck. He nipped at the sensitive spot beneath your ear, then soothed it with his tongue. “I know. I know you like that. 

His other hand released your shoulder, joining the first under your top. A whimper caught in your throat. You were drowning in the sensation of his wet hair against your cheek and his hands on your back.

With a smooth, powerful motion, he shifted, turning you fully onto your back against the cushions. He loomed over you, bracing himself on one arm, his eyes drinking you in. Your top was bunched up, your hair fanned out, your lips swollen and parted as you looked up at him. He looked utterly wrecked, his own breathing ragged.

He dipped his head, catching your mouth in another searing kiss as his hands finally pushed your top up and over your head. It joined Hera’s drawing somewhere on the nearby table. The cool air of the room nipped your skin, followed immediately by the devastating heat of his mouth leaving your lips to travel downward.

He kissed your collarbone, then the slope of your chest above your bra. His fingers found the clasp at the back, tugging at it until it came undone. He peeled the fabric away, his breath slowing as he looked at you.

Then his mouth was on you. He took one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking deeply, his tongue flicking over you. You sharply inhaled, your back bowing off the couch. Your fingers scrambled into his hair, holding him to you. The sensation was electric, shooting straight to your core, making you ache with a need that was rapidly becoming unbearable.

He lavished attention on one breast, then the other, his free hand kneading the soft flesh as his touch alternating between tender and demanding. 

“Howzer.”

He lifted his head, his lips glistening. “What do you need?” he teased, his voice rough with desire.

“This off,” you pleaded, your hands sliding down his chest, tugging at the hem of his shirt. 

A wicked grin touched his lips. He sat back on his heels, straddling your thighs, and in one fluid motion pulled his own shirt off over his head. The sight of him, bare chested and breathing heavily, was enough to make your mouth go dry. The blue light from the holodrama played over the muscles on shoulders and chest. Your eyes drank in all the scars that made his chest uniquely his - a blaster graze on his ribs from a small battle outside the city, a splotchy white mark on his shoulder from an explosion that nearly took his life.

You reached for him, your hands sliding up the hard planes of his stomach to his chest, feeling the frantic beat of his heart under your palm. He leaned into the touch for a moment, his eyes closing, before his hands went to the waistband of his sweatpants.

He didn’t tease this time. He pushed them down along with his briefs, kicking them off the couch. Then he was there, his erection nearly against his stomach. You adored the sight, a fresh wave of heat pooling low in your stomach.

His hands went to the waistband of your own lounge pants, his fingers hooking into the fabric. He looked up at you smirking, with a question in his eyes, “Permission, General?”

You gave him a playful shove with your foot, smacking his side just hard enough to make him chuckle. “Permission granted, Captain,” you shot back with an affectionate roll of your eyes.

He peeled your sweatpants and your underwear down your legs in one slow motion, his hands smoothing over your calves, your ankles, as he removed them. He then knelt between your spread thighs, looking down at your body, completely bare and open to him.

He didn’t move to enter you immediately. Instead, he leaned down, bracing his hands on the cushions by your hips, and lowered his head between your thighs. His breath, hot and damp, washed over your most sensitive flesh first. You jerked, a gasp tearing from your throat.

“Howzer!”

“Shh,” he soothed, his voice vibrating against your skin. “I’ll be quick.”

His tongue swept through your folds in one long stroke.

“Oh,” The sound was punched out of you, your head falling back against the arm of the couch. It was too much, yet somehow it was not enough. His mouth was relentless, worshipping you with a focused intensity that bordered on devotion. He licked and suckled, exploring every fold, every hidden nerve, his nose nudging against your clit until you were shaking, your heels digging into his back and your fingers twisted in his hair.

“Stars Howzer” you babbled, lost to everything but the building, coiling tension in your gut.

He hummed against you, the vibration sending a shockwave of pleasure up your spine. His tongue circled your clit, faster, more insistently, and then he sealed his lips over you and sucked one last time.

Slowly, he kissed his way back up your body - the inside of your thigh, your stomach and finally the valley between your breasts. He nuzzled into your neck, his own breathing uneven. You could feel the hard, insistent length of him pressing against your thigh, wet with his own desire.

“Howzer,” you teased, decided it was officially your turn to drive him out of his mind. Reaching down between your bodies, your hand wrapped around his length. A breathless, needy groan ripped from his chest, his hips moving in gentle thrust into your hand. He looked up at you, desperate for your next words. You held his gaze, “You know, you really would make an incredible father.”

He didn’t need further encouragement. Bracing his weight on his forearms, he positioned himself and pushed forward, sinking into you in one slow, inexorable slide.

The feeling of him filling you, stretching you, completing you, was utterly overwhelming. The initial stretch was a delicious burn that melted into a feeling of absolute rightness. You were both still for a long moment, foreheads pressed together, breathing each other’s air, connected in the most primal way possible.

Still pressed together, he opened his eyes to look at you. “You can’t just say that,” he whispered, his voice strained with the effort of holding still. “Okay?”

“I know,” you winked, rolling your hips up to take him deeper. 

He withdrew almost completely, then sank back in, setting a deep, rolling rhythm that had you seeing stars all over again. The couch creaked softly in protest, the sound lost under your breaths and moans.

You forced your eyes open again, meeting his burning gaze. The intimacy of it was almost more than the physical act. To see the love, the want, the sheer wonder in his eyes as he moved inside you shattered the last pieces of your restraint.

“Howzer,” you gasped out, your fingers tightening in his hair to pull him down. “Just- Howzer.”

His rhythm stuttered. A look of pure, unguarded joy flashed across his face, so bright it was painful. He captured your mouth in a desperate, sloppy kiss.

His thrusts became less controlled, more frantic. The coil in your stomach tightened again, impossibly fast, fed by the friction of his body on yours. You could feel his own control fraying and his muscles trembling with the effort of holding back.

“I-,” you pleaded, digging your nails into his shoulders. “I’m so close, Howzer.”

His name on your lips again was his undoing. With a ragged shout that was half your name, half a wordless roar, he plunged deep and held there. You felt him pulse inside you, his final push sending you spiraling over the edge.

Your climax was breathless for a second, as a wave of pure delight burst from your very core. Then the sensation crashed into a cry that he swallowed with his mouth. Your walls clenched around him rhythmically, absorbing his own release, as pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.

He collapsed onto you, his full weight providing a necessary pressure. You wrapped your arms and legs around him, holding him inside you, as your hearts hammered against each other’s chests. The only sounds were your mingled, ragged breaths and the distant, cheerful theme song from the forgotten holodrama.

Minutes passed. Slowly, the world seeped back in. Howzer finally stirred, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your shoulder before he carefully pulled out and rolled to the side, gathering you instantly against him. You turned, tucking yourself against his body. Your back was to his chest and his arms held you tight. He nuzzled into your hair, his lips brushing your temple.

“So,” he murmured, his voice a sleepy, satisfied rumble against your ear. “About being an incredible father.”

You let out a breathless laugh, threading your fingers through his. As you squeezed his hand, you felt his mind nearly short circuiting with the thought of it. The dangerous vision of starting a family completely consumed him. For a clone captain who had never been allowed to own so much as a personal item, the idea of having a child suddenly became a desperate necessity.

With a single statement on fatherhood, you had unlocked the absolute power to his heart, and it terrified you with how beautiful it was.

He turned his head, burying his nose into your neck, “You shouldn’t have said it if you didn't mean it, because now- Now I can’t unsee it. We’re making it happen.”

His words sent a shiver straight through your spine. The fear you felt just moments was replaced by a deep, unyielding wave of absolute devotion. There was a finality to what you two had just spoken aloud. You realized that there was no taking it back now.

You moved your head as far back as you could, looking back at him. It was then that you realized you didn’t want to take any of it back.

“I meant it,” you whispered back, your voice carrying reassurance, “I’m not going anywhere without you.”

With that massive, life altering promise finally hanging beautifully in the warm air of the room, the heavy physical exhaustion of the day finally crashed over both of you. 

Howzer let out a long, ragged exhale against your head. He reached down to grab the edge of a blanket and with one smooth movement, he pulled the blanket all the way up over both of your shoulders.

He tucked you securely under his side, his arm wrapping firmly around your waist and anchoring you flush against his chest. You adjusted, resting your head perfectly in the comfortable crook of his neck, while your hand came to rest flat against the center of his chest. Beneath your palm, his heartbeat was strong and steady. But, he wasn’t ready for bed quite yet. 

“I don’t know how we’re going to pull it off,” Howzer sighed. He said it in the same way he would discuss the details of a nearly impossible mission. He turned his head, pressing his lips firmly against the crown of your head, holding the kiss there before resting his jaw against your hair. “I don't know how we'll hide it, or where we'll go. But we’ll figure it out. We have time.”

The contrast of your reality hit you one last time. Outside the reinforced palace walls, a catastrophic war was raging. On Coruscant, the Jedi Code strictly dictated cold isolation and forbade the very concept of attachment. To the Republic, Howzer was nothing more than manufactured property, a number on a ledger meant to fight and die on a distant world.

But inside the Syndulla’s wing, your worlds were completely rewritten. That piece of flimsi on the table wasn't just a child’s silly fantasy anymore.

It was a blueprint.