#clone smut

Hunter remembered the fear as if it were still curling in his chest.

He remembered standing in the doorway of that cramped med clinic on Ord Mantell, watching Omega shiver under a thin blanket. Her skin had taken on a grey color that made him think of things he didn't want to think about. Things like empty cradles and soldiers who never came home.

The local medic had already told him there was nothing more they could do. Something about the fever being too advanced, the infection too deep for their limited supplies.

Hunter had looked at Crosshair first. Then at Wrecker. Echo had been pacing near the door, his mechanical hand clenching and unclenching in a rhythm that matched Hunter's own heartbeat.

"I'm not leaving her here," he'd said.

Nobody argued.

The frantic search happened through back alleys and shadow markets, through the kind of places where people didn't ask questions but charged triple for answers. Hunter remembered the stench of burning oil and rotting fruit. The way his feet had ached from hours of walking. The desperation that made his enhanced senses sharper than they'd been in months.

That was how he found you.

You weren't advertising yourself as a doctor. Just a woman with steady hands who knew how to handle a fever that wouldn't break. Someone who'd lost your practice to Imperial requisitions and now worked out of a storage room with a cot and a battery-powered sterilizer.

Hunter remembered watching you work. The way your fingers found Omega's pulse without hesitation. How you mixed compounds by eye, never measuring, always precise. Your voice when you spoke to Omega, low and calm, like you'd done this a thousand times before.

Something in Hunter's chest had loosened then. Just a little.

The fever broke six hours later. Omega opened her eyes, confused and thirsty, and Hunter had to turn away so nobody would see his face.

Now, a week later, he stood in the doorway of the Marauder's tiny galley, watching you eat a ration bar. The ship hummed around you both, that familiar vibration that had become his home for more years than he cared to count.

"You don't have to keep thanking me," you said, catching his gaze.

He hadn't realized he was staring.

"I know." He stepped into the galley, the space suddenly feeling smaller. "But I'm going to anyway."

You set the ration bar down. It crumbled on the wrapper.

Hunter's voice dropped, the way it always did when he meant something. "I thought she was going to die. That night. Before I found you."

The words hung in the air between you. He didn't usually talk about things like this. Feelings. Fears. The kind of softness that got people killed.

But something about you made him want to.

"I'm glad I was there," you said.

He nodded and sat across from you. The table was barely wide enough for two plates. He could smell your soap, something floral and cheap, and underneath it, the faint scent of antiseptic that clung to your clothes.

"So what's your story?" he asked. "How does a medic end up on Ord Mantell with no patients and no way off?"

You shrugged, but he caught the way your shoulders tensed. "Bad luck. Bad timing. The Empire doesn't like independent practitioners."

"They don't like anyone who isn't them."

"That too."

He let the silence settle before asking about something lighter. "What made you choose medicine?"

You thought about it, chewing slowly. "I like fixing things. People mostly. They're more complicated than machines, but the satisfaction is better when they walk out on their own."

Hunter smiled, a rare thing that felt strange on his face. "Omega's walking now."

"She is."

He leaned back, studying you. The way you held yourself, careful and contained. The way your eyes scanned a room before you relaxed. A habit you shared with him, he realized.

"What about your tattoo?" you asked, nodding toward his skull face.

He glanced down at it, then back at you. "Nothing mysterious. I just thought it looked cool."

"You're telling me the leader of Clone Force 99 picked a tattoo based on aesthetics?"

"Sometimes that's all there is to it."

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. Hunter felt the corner of his mouth twitch.

"It goes further, actually," he said, gesturing vaguely toward his torso. "Covers most of my chest. Stops somewhere around my hip."

Your gaze flickered down, then back up. A flush crept across your cheeks.

"You could see it sometime," he said, letting his voice dip lower. "Find out exactly where it stops. Private like."

Your breath caught. He heard it, that tiny hitch, and felt a warmth spread through his chest. Your heart was beating faster now. His senses told him everything he needed to know.

"I…" You cleared your throat. "That's forward."

Hunter shrugged, still smiling. "Even if it's not a reg, I'm still a clone. We don't do subtle."

He stood, leaving you there with your half-eaten ration bar and your crimson cheeks. At the door, he turned back.

"Think about it."

Two hours later, you were sitting at Omega's bedside, watching her sleep.

The girl had been doing better. Her color had returned, her appetite was slowly coming back. She'd spent most of the morning trailing after Wrecker, asking questions about everything he was doing.

But now she was awake, blinking at you with tired eyes.

"Who are you?"

You leaned forward. "I'm a medic. Your brothers brought me on board because they were worried about you."

Omega processed this slowly. "You're the one who helped me?"

"Yes."

She smiled, a small thing, but genuine. "Good. I'm glad you're here. It's nice to have another girl on the crew."

Something in your chest tightened. "Thank you."

Omega sat up, rubbing her eyes. "Is Hunter worried about me?"

"He was. He still is, probably. That's what brothers do."

She nodded, then swung her legs over the side of the bed. "I should go see the others."

You helped her stand, steadying her when she wobbled. She walked toward the main cabin, her steps growing surer with every stride.

Through the open door, you watched her find Wrecker. He scooped her up like she weighed nothing, spinning her around while she laughed. Echo joined them, his usual reserve cracking as he ruffled her hair.

They looked like a family. A broken, scarred, beautiful family.

You stepped back, wanting to give them space, and walked straight into something solid.

Strong hands caught your shoulders before you could stumble.

"Careful there."

Hunter's voice, low and amused, right behind you. His chest was warm against your back. His breath stirred the hair near your ear.

You spun around, heart hammering. "Sorry. I wasn't looking."

"Clearly." He didn't let go. His hands stayed on your shoulders, thumbs brushing against the fabric of your shirt. "You alright?"

"Fine. Great. Perfect."

The words came out too fast. His eyes crinkled at the corners.

"Come talk to me," he said. "In my bunk."

Every nerve in your body fired at once. "Your bunk?"

"My room. For talking." He paused. "Unless you want it to be something else."

You didn't answer. Couldn't. Your throat had closed up.

He released your shoulders slowly, like he was savoring the moment, then turned and walked down the corridor without waiting for your reply. And of course you followed.

His room was smaller than you'd expected. A bunk, a locker, a shelf bolted to the wall. On that shelf sat a collection of objects that seemed out of place in a soldier's quarters: a crumpled drawing of what looked like a loth-cat, a bracelet made of woven string, a small carved bantha that had seen better days.

Omega's work, you guessed.

Hunter noticed your gaze. "She makes things. Gives them to all of us."

"That's sweet."

"It is." He gestured to the bunk. "Sit."

You sat. The mattress dipped under your weight, and he settled beside you, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him.

"I wanted to talk about something," he said.

Your stomach dropped. "Is everything okay?"

"Fine. Better than fine." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Look, I'm grateful for what you did for Omega. We all are. But I need to be honest with you."

"About what?"

He met your eyes, and his gaze was steady. Serious. "We're enemies of the Empire. All five of us. Every job we take puts us deeper on their radar. I don't want to push too far with your generosity. I don't want to put you in danger."

You held his gaze. "I know what I signed up for."

"Do you?" He leaned closer. "In two days, we're stopping on a civilized planet. If you want, in four days, I can have you back on Ord Mantell. Back where we found you."

Your heart clenched. "What if I don't want to go back?"

"Then you stay. But I need you to choose. Consciously. Not because you feel obligated."

You thought about the empty med clinic. The patients who'd stopped coming. The Empire agents who'd knocked on your door twice already, asking questions you'd deflected.

"I'll stay," you said. "For now."

"Good." He exhaled. "I don't want you to feel trapped."

"I don't."

He shifted closer, and his hand landed on your thigh. Warm. Heavy. Deliberate.

"You're welcome to stay as long as you want," he said. "Whatever you need, we'll figure it out."

Your skin tingled where he touched you. Heat spread up your leg, into your stomach, your chest.

"You're blushing," he said. "Your heart is racing."

His thumb traced a circle on your thigh. "I can hear it. Smell it. I know exactly what I do to you."

Mortification and arousal tangled in your gut. "That's... you're..."

"It would be a shame if you left so soon." His voice dropped, rough and warm. "I haven't had nearly enough time to get more reactions out of you."

You forced yourself to hold his gaze. His eyes were dark, pupils blown, fixed on you like you were the only thing in the room.

He lifted his hand from your thigh and cupped your chin. His thumb traced your lower lip, feather-soft.

And then he kissed you.

It started gently, almost questioning. His lips moved against yours, testing, tasting. You parted your mouth without thinking, and he took the invitation, pressing his tongue against yours.

Heat flooded through you. Your hands found his hair, threading through the strands, and he groaned, a sound that vibrated through his chest and into yours.

He deepened the kiss, pulling you closer, and you let him guide you back onto the mattress. His weight settled over you, straddling your hips, his hands roaming your sides.

"You have no idea," he murmured against your lips, "how long I've wanted…"

A knock.

Both of you froze.

"Hunter?" Omega's voice filtered through the door. "Have you seen the medic? I can't find her anywhere."

You looked at Hunter. He looked at you.

Your breath came fast. His hair was tousled, his lips swollen. He looked completely undone, and somehow that made everything worse.

He pressed his forehead to yours, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

"Give me a second, Omega," he called, his voice steady despite the chaos. "She's probably in the refresher. I'll be right out."

"Okay!"

Her footsteps retreated. Hunter stayed where he was, still laughing, his breath warm against your skin.

"That was close," you whispered.

"Too close." He kissed your forehead, lingering. "We're not done."

He rolled off you, stood, and straightened his shirt. At the door, he looked back, his gaze burning.

"Later," he promised.

And then he was gone.

You took a moment to collect yourself after the door slid shut.

Your heart was still pounding. Your lips tingled from the kiss. The taste of him lingered, mixed with the stale air of his quarters. You pressed a hand to your chest, feeling the rapid thump under your ribs, and took a slow breath. Then another. Then you stood, smoothed your shirt, and walked out into the corridor.

Crosshair was waiting.

He stood against the wall, arms crossed, his toothpick shifting from one side of his mouth to the other. The lighting in the corridor caught the sharp angles of his face, making him look even more gaunt than usual. He didn't say anything at first. Just watched you with those narrow eyes that seemed to see straight through walls.

You stopped. "Crosshair."

He pushed off the wall, falling into step beside you as you started walking. His presence was cold, deliberate. You could feel the tension radiating off him like heat from a broken engine.

"You should leave," he said.

The words landed flat. No preamble. No softening. You kept walking. "Excuse me?"

"At the next stop. Get off the ship and don't look back." He matched your pace easily, his boots silent where yours scuffed the deck plates. "It's better for you. We're all criminals. The Empire has us on every watch list in the galaxy."

"I know what I signed up for."

He stopped walking. You stopped too, turning to face him. His expression hadn't changed, but something in his jaw tightened.

"No," he said, "you don't. You're a civilian. You have no training, no augmentation. If we get pinned down, you'll be dead weight. A liability." He stepped closer, his voice dropping. "And Hunter doesn't need a weakness that obvious. None of us do."

The words stung. You felt them settle somewhere deep, like a splinter you couldn't dig out.

"I'm a medic," you said. "I can help."

"You can get yourself killed. And then he'll blame himself forever." Crosshair's eyes flicked down the corridor, toward the shared space where laughter echoed. "You think he can afford that? Any of us can afford that?"

You didn't answer.

He held your gaze for a long moment, then turned and walked away without another word. His silhouette disappeared around a corner, leaving you alone in the humming corridor.

You stood there, breathing. Then you walked toward the sound of voices.

The shared space was warm, cluttered with people and equipment. Wrecker sat on the floor, legs crossed, while Omega perched on a crate beside him. She was showing him something on a datapad, her small fingers tracing the screen. Tech and Echo were hunched over an open panel near the cockpit, wires spilling out like colorful entrails. Tech muttered something about voltage regulators, and Echo handed him a tool without looking.

You settled onto a bench near the edge of the room, keeping your distance.

Omega noticed you almost immediately. Her face lit up.

"Medic!" She hopped off the crate and padded over, her bare feet slapping against the metal floor. "Want to see what I found? It's a picture of a loth-cat. I think it's a baby one."

She thrust the datapad into your hands. The image showed a blurry holo of a small, fluffy creature with oversized ears. It was chewing on a cable.

"Cute," you said.

"Right? I want to get one someday. Hunter said maybe, when we have a place that stays still."

Wrecker lumbered over, grinning. "A loth-cat? Those things shed everywhere. I knew a guy on Corellia who had one. Got hair in his food for three years."

"Three years?" Omega's eyes went wide.

"At least."

She giggled, and something in your chest loosened. Crosshair's words still echoed, but this… This was easier. Soft. You let yourself sink into it.

Dinner came in the form of ration packs and reconstituted protein. Wrecker heated everything in the galley's tiny oven, humming something off-key. Tech and Echo joined them briefly, but Tech was still muttering about the power coupling issue, and Echo followed after him with a resigned shrug.

Omega sat next to you, her knee brushing yours as she ate.

"How old are you?" she asked between bites.

"Old enough to have been working for a while," you said.

"What kind of medicine do you like best? Emergency stuff, or the slow kind?"

"I like fixing things. People mostly. Emergency stuff gives you a rush, but the steady work feels better."

She nodded seriously. "I think I'd like the steady kind. But maybe emergency sometimes."

"That's a good balance." She chewed thoughtfully, then asked, "Are you single?"

The question caught you off guard. You felt heat rise to your cheeks before you could stop it.

"Yes," you said.

And you couldn't help it. Your gaze drifted across the room, searching, and found Hunter leaning against the doorframe of the galley. His arms were crossed, but his eyes were warm, and the corner of his mouth curved into that knowing smirk. He'd heard everything. Of course he had.

Then your eyes moved past him, into the shadowed corner near the storage lockers.

Crosshair sat there, cleaning his rifle with slow, deliberate strokes. His face was a mask, but his movements were too precise, too controlled. He looked pissed. The kind of pissed that simmered under the surface, ready to boil.

You looked away quickly.

Omega was still watching you, her head tilted. "Why are you blushing?"

"I'm not."

"Yes, you are. Wrecker, look, she's blushing."

Wrecker squinted at you. "Yeah, you're pretty red. You feeling okay? Need some water?"

"I'm fine." You stood, gathering your tray. "Just tired. Long day."

Omega set down her fork. "Can you put me to bed? Hunter usually does it, but he's busy."

You glanced at Hunter. He was watching you, his smirk still in place. He gave a slight nod, almost imperceptible.

"Sure," you said. "Lead the way."

Omega took your hand and pulled you down the corridor, past the bunks, past the refresher, to a small door near the end. Her room was tidy, a single bunk with a faded blanket and a shelf of trinkets. She climbed in, and you tucked the blanket around her.

"Will you stay for a bit?" she asked, her voice already softening.

"Just until you fall asleep."

She smiled and closed her eyes. Within minutes, her breathing evened out.

You sat there for a while, watching her face relax. Then you stood, careful not to make noise, and stepped back into the corridor.

Hunter was waiting.

He leaned against the wall opposite the door, his arms crossed, his eyes dark in the dim light. He didn't say anything. Just pushed off the wall and stepped close, close enough that his breath stirred your hair.

"I'd love to have you get me to bed too," he whispered, his voice low and rough.

Your face burned. Your mouth opened, but no words came out.

He smiled, slow and satisfied, then turned and walked away. You watched his back disappear into the shadows of the corridor, your heart hammering, your legs barely steady.

You made it to the refresher on autopilot. Closed the door. Leaned against the sink, staring at your reflection. Your cheeks were flushed, your eyes too bright. You looked like someone who'd just been kissed within an inch of her life. You splashed cold water on your face, took a breath, then another.

When you stepped out, the corridor was empty. You passed the shared living space on the way to Hunter's room, and through the open door, you caught a glimpse of Crosshair. He was still sitting in the corner, his rifle reassembled, his eyes fixed on you.

You held his gaze for a second. Then you looked away and kept walking.

The door to Hunter's quarters was ahead. You stopped in front of it, your hand hovering over the panel. You could hear his heartbeat through the metal, steady and patient.

You knocked softly.

The door slid open.

He stood there, shirtless, his tattoo curling across his chest and down his hip. The light from the corridor caught the lines of his body, the scars, the muscle.

He looked at you, and his eyes darkened.

"Come in."

You stepped inside, and the door closed behind you.

He didn't move. He just studied you, his gaze traveling from your face to your hands to the way you were holding yourself. His lips curved into a smirk.

"Your heart's racing," he said. "Loud enough to wake the whole ship."

"Shut up."

He laughed, low and warm, and stepped closer. His hand came up, cupping your cheek. His thumb traced your jaw, feather-light.

"You're so beautiful when you blush."

And he kissed you.

Soft at first, then deeper. His tongue brushed your lower lip, and you parted your mouth, letting him in. His other hand found your hip, pulling you against him. You felt the heat of his skin through your clothes, the hard planes of his body.

Your hands found his chest. The tattoo was smooth under your fingertips, warm even. He sighed into your mouth, a sound that made your knees weak.

He pulled back just far enough to whisper, "I really want to take off your shirt."

You nodded, not trusting your voice.

He did it slowly, fingers brushing your sides as he lifted the fabric over your head. It fell somewhere on the floor. He stepped back, just enough to look at you, and his breath caught.

"Stars," he murmured.

Then he pushed you gently onto the mattress. You landed on your back, looking up at him as he climbed over you, his weight settling on your hips. He lowered his head, his mouth finding your right breast. His tongue circled your nipple, then he took it into his mouth, sucking gently.

You gasped, your back arching. His hand moved to your left breast, fingers finding your other nipple, rolling it between thumb and forefinger. He alternated between the two, licking, sucking, pinching until you were moaning, your hands fisting in the sheets.

He groaned against your skin, the vibration sending sparks through you.

You felt him rock his hips against yours. The pressure was unmistakable. He was hard, and he was big. The thought made heat pool low in your stomach.

He lifted his head, and you reached out, tracing the tattoo. Black lines curled over his collarbone, down his sternum, across his ribs. You followed them with your fingers, watching his muscles twitch under your touch.

He unfastened his pants and pushed them down. Then yours. Then he settled over you again, skin to skin, and the sensation was overwhelming.

He entered you slowly.

You both moaned. He filled you, stretching you, and you felt every inch. He paused, letting you adjust, his forehead pressed to yours.

"You feel incredible," he breathed.

"So do you."

He started to move. Slow at first, deep strokes that made your vision blur. Each thrust hit a spot that sent pleasure rippling through your body. You gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders.

He covered your mouth with his hand, his eyes glinting.

"Quiet," he whispered. "You'll wake Omega."

You nodded, muffling your sounds against his palm. He kissed you then, swallowing your moans, his tongue moving in time with his hips.

The rhythm built. He turned you onto your belly, pulling your hips up, and entered you from behind. This angle was different, deeper. He found a spot that made you cry out, and he pressed his arm around your head, his bicep against your throat.

"Bite if you need to," he murmured.

You did. You sank your teeth into his forearm, muffling the sounds that wanted to tear out of you. He moved faster, harder, his breath ragged in your ear.

His thrusts grew sloppy. He buried himself inside you, and you felt him pulse, felt the warmth spread. He collapsed over you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his heart hammering against your back.

After a moment, he rolled off you. You lay side by side, both breathing hard, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex.

He reached over and pulled you close, spooning you from behind. His arm wrapped around your belly, drawing you against him. His lips pressed to the back of your head.

"Stay," he whispered.

You didn't answer. You just closed your eyes and let the warmth of him pull you down into sleep.

You woke to the sound of Omega's laughter, distant and bright. It filtered through the metal walls like sunlight through blinds.

For a moment, you didn't move. Your body was heavy, weighed down by sleep and the warmth of a bed that wasn't yours. The sheets smelled like Hunter. Like sweat and soap and something deeper, something you couldn't name.

Then you shifted, and the ache settled into your muscles.

Everything came back in a rush. His hands. His mouth. The way he'd pressed you into the mattress like you were something precious. Heat crawled up your neck as you pushed yourself upright.

The bunk was empty beside you. The sheets were cool where he'd lain.

You looked around, and your gaze caught on a folded pile of fabric near the edge of the bed. Clean clothes. A soft grey shirt and dark pants. You reached for them, and as you unfolded the shirt, you noticed the collar. It rose high, almost to your chin.

You slipped the clothes on. They fit well, maybe a little loose in the shoulders. The collar sat snug against your throat.

You caught your reflection in the small mirror bolted to the wall. The shirt covered everything. Every mark. Every bruise. You turned your head and saw the edge of a dark spot peeking out near your jaw, just below your ear. You adjusted the collar. Covered.

You left the room.

The corridor hummed with the ship's usual vibrations. The lights were dim, set to whatever cycle Tech had programmed for the day cycle. You followed the sound of voices to the shared space.

Wrecker spotted you first. His face split into a grin.

"Look who finally woke up," he said, his voice booming. "Thought you were gonna sleep through the whole rotation. Even I don't sleep that long."

Heat flooded your cheeks. "I was tired."

"Tired." He laughed, slapping his knee. "Sure you were. Come sit. Omega's been asking about you."

Omega appeared from behind Wrecker, her eyes bright. "Do you want to play a game? I found one about constellations. You have to match the stars to the right names."

You opened your mouth to answer.

"She doesn't have time for games."

Crosshair's voice cut through the warmth. He stood in the doorway leading to the cockpit, his arms crossed, his toothpick in place. His eyes were fixed on you.

"She has to get ready. We're dropping her off at the next planet."

Omega's face fell. "What? No. She's not leaving."

"She is."

"I'm not…" you started.

"You have a lot to do," Crosshair said, talking over you. "Your things need to be packed. Better start now."

Omega grabbed your hand. "You can't go. You just got here. And you're still tired. You should rest."

Wrecker nodded, his grin gone. "Yeah, she's right. You look like you need a break. Stay."

Echo leaned against the bulkhead, his mechanical hand still. "She has a point. No reason to rush things."

Tech glanced up from his datapad. "Statistically, a rest period of at least twelve hours after recovery from significant illness is recommended. Omega's assessment is medically sound."

You looked around the room. They were all watching you. All waiting for your answer. All except Hunter, who was nowhere to be seen.

"I still have to think about it," you said.

Crosshair grunted. He held your gaze for a long moment, his jaw tight. Then he turned and walked out of the space without another word.

You excused yourself.

The room they'd given you was small, tucked near the rear of the ship. A bunk, a locker, a small desk. Your bag sat on the floor, half-unpacked. You closed the door behind you and leaned against it.

Your throat tightened. Your eyes burned.

You pressed the heels of your hands against your eyelids and breathed. Once. Twice. Three times.

A soft knock.

You dropped your hands. "Who is it?"

"It's Hunter."

His voice, low and familiar. You crossed the room in three steps and opened the door.

He stood in the corridor, his hair slightly disheveled, his eyes scanning your face. He took in your reddened eyes, the way you were holding yourself, and something in his expression softened.

"Crosshair?" he asked.

You nodded.

He stepped inside. The door slid shut behind him. He sat on the edge of the bunk, looking up at you.

"He's acting like this because he cares," Hunter said. "About his family. About the squad. He doesn't want anyone getting hurt. When he asks you to leave, he's trying to protect everyone. You included."

"It doesn't feel like he's trying to protect me," you said. "It feels like he's trying to protect them. I'm just collateral."

Hunter's mouth quirked. "That's his particular way of expressing concern. It's not pretty. But it's honest."

You sat beside him, the mattress dipping under your weight.

"If you decide to stay," he said, "you should get ready. He won't make it easy."

"I know."

He passed an arm around you, pulling you into a side hug. His hand rested on your shoulder, warm and solid. You leaned into him, letting yourself feel the steadiness of his presence. His thumb traced a slow circle on your arm.

You stayed like that for a while, breathing in sync.

Then you pushed yourself to your feet. "I'm going to talk to him."

Hunter looked up at you, something like pride flickering in his eyes. He stood, and before he left, he tapped your shoulder once. A small gesture. Enough.

"Good luck," he said.

He stepped out and turned toward the cockpit, where Tech's voice was already muttering about power converters.

You walked back to the shared space.

Crosshair had moved. He sat near the storage lockers, a holomap projected in front of him. Planets and routes rotated in blue light, tracing paths through the galaxy.

You stopped a few feet away. "Can we talk?"

He didn't look up. "I'm busy."

"Just for a minute."

A pause. He deactivated the holomap and turned his head. His eyes were flat. "Fine."

He followed you to a quiet corner near the galley. You leaned against the counter. He stood with his arms crossed, his weight on one foot.

"I want to stay," you said.

He didn't react.

"And I want you to give me a chance." You took a breath. "Would you still be this set on me leaving if I proved myself? If I learned how to fight?"

He rolled his shoulders, a slow, deliberate motion. "It could change my judgment. Maybe."

"Then teach me."

He stared at you. A beat of silence.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because it's a waste of time. You're a medic. You don't need to know how to hold a blaster."

"I'm staying for at least a month," you said. "If you train me, it's a win for both of us. I'd be less of a liability. And you'd have time to decide if I'm worth keeping around."

His eyes narrowed.

"You said yourself that your judgment could change," you pressed. "So give me a month. If at the end of it you still think I'm not worth staying, I'll leave. No arguments."

He studied you. The toothpick moved from one side of his mouth to the other.

"Fine," he said. "One month."

Relief flooded through you, tempered by the edge in his voice.

"But I'm not a gentle instructor," he said. "I don't have patience for failure. If you can't keep up, don't expect me to slow down for you."

You nodded. "Understood."

He turned and walked away, his boots silent on the deck plates.

You watched him go, your heart still hammering, but your feet planted firmly.

Hope you enjoyed (follow for more)

I'm publishing a new part every day!

mando'a - english - pronunciation

Body Parts

bevagol - penis, dick, cock - bayv-AH-gohl

murce - lips (pl.) - MOOR-shay

palon - hole, opening; aisle, passageway - pah-LOHN

pel'gam - skin - pel-GAM

pel'troan - cheek - pail-TROHN

petir - center - PEH-teer

shebs - backside, rear, buttocks (also rear of building etc) - shebs

yai - belly, womb, abdomen - yay

yaiten - vagina (anatomical) - yay-TEN

Actions

aar'betenor - groan, moan - ahr-bey-tehn-OHR

baa'ruir - shiver, shudder - bah-roo-EER

baar'murcyur - making love, having sex - bahr-moor-SHOOR

baar'mureyca - sex (lit. "body kiss") - bahr-MOOR-aysh-ah

bat'gaanir - rub, grind - baht-gah-NEER

chayaikir - tease, barrack, make fun of (not as hostile as mock) - chai-ay-KEER

dihaarir - undress, take clothes off, unbutton, unzip - dee-hah-REER

↳ ke'dihaarir - undress (command) **

gayiylir - spread - guy-ee-LEER

gedetir - plead, beg - geh-deh-TEER

↳ ke'gedetir - beg (command) **

irudir - hug, embrace - ee-roo-DEER

iviin'hiibir - grasp, grab, seize - ee-VEEN-hee-BEER

murcyur - kiss - moor-SHOOR

pehir - spit - peh-HEER

tigaanur - touch - tee-gah-NOOR

videkir - swallow - vee-deh-KEER

↳ ke'videkir - swallow (command) **

Feelings

adenn - merciless - ah-DEN

aiki’yc - desperate - ai-KEESH

baar'laamyc - orgasm (lit. body high) - bahr-LAH-meesh **

↳ baar'lamycir - orgasming **

dola - throughout, pervading, soaked - DOH-lah

etyc - dirty, filthy, grimy - EHT-eesh

gebyc - narrow, tight - GEHB-eesh

jatisyc - delicious - jah-TEE-seesh

kandosii'la - stunning, amazing - kan-doh-SEE-la

murey'lin - lust - MOO-ray-leen

murey'yc - sexy, erotic - moor-ay-EESH

nepel - solid, hard - nay-PAIL

nukut'la - naked, nude, bare - noo-KOOT-lah

ori'aal - passion - OH-ree-AHL

piru'lini - thirst - pee-roo-LEE-nee

piryc - wet - PEER-eesh

tsikala - prepared, ready - zee-KAH-lah

yaihi'l - full - YAH-heel

yaiyai'yc - bloated, satisfied - yai-YAI-eesh

Other

ash'emuurir - please someone - ash-eh-moo-REER

copaanir - want - KOH-pan-EER

haav - bed - hahv

↳ haavir - bed (verb; to bed)

jat'ad - good boy/girl (name of affection or praise) - jah-TAHD

jatisir - delight, please, indulge - jah-tee-SEER

linibar - need - lee-nee-BAHR

pel'tigala - tender - pel-tee-GAH-lah

pelid - mattress, something soft to lie down or fall onto - pai-LEED

tennir - open - teh-NEER

↳ ke'tennir - open (command)

Kinky

brii'tay - knot - bree-TIE

↳ brii'tayir - knot (verb, i.e. A/B/O) **

nadal - heat - nah-DAHL

↳ or'nadal - in heat **

mircir - cage, lock up, capture - meer-SEER

tay'briik - cord, rope, string - tie-BREEK

tay'briir - tie up - tie-BREER

tay'gaan - strap, belt - tie-GAHN

yaihad - pregnancy - yai-HAHD

yaihad'la - pregnant - yai-HAHD-lah

yaihadir - conceive, impregnate - yai-hah-DEER

aar'ika - sting, little pain - AHR-eek-ah

aarar - hurt, cause pain - ah-RAHR

ekur - choke - eck-OOR

gratiir - punish - grah-TEER

kadalikir - scratch, leave a mark - kah-dah-lee-KEER

nynir - hit, strike - nee-NEER

oya'karir - hunt, chase - OY-yah-kah-REER

ky'goy - edge, verge, break, precipice - kee-GOHY

↳ ky'goyir - edge (verb) **

Drop a note or ask if there's anything you think I should add!

A/N: Istg someone said something about Kix in glasses and my neurons activated but i can not for the life of me find the post 😭🙏

Star Wars Masterlist ｜ Main Masterlist ｜ Navigation

MDNI THIS IS SMUT

The med bay doors woosh open, letting the faint smell of antiseptic and blood filter out into the hallway. You step in, holding the box of supplies under one arm and a datapad in the other. Pausing for a moment, you hike the box up higher on your hip and narrow your eyes at the screen. "The supplies droid says we're running low on bacta but this manifest says we should have more in a different-" You glance up at Kix, then do a double take, gawking.

Kix, hearing the sudden pause in your sentence, looks up from where he had been leaning over a datapad. He looks a little confused, straightening and taking a step over to you. "A different what?"

"Uh, storage, different storage room- are you wearing my glasses?" You splutter out, eyes tracking the movement of his face, specifically the glassed that were indeed perched on his nose.

His face contorts, into a smile. "Yeah, they help me read."

"I thought clones were supposed to have perfect vision?" You stammer out, trying desperately not to look like you were staring.

Kix shrugs, turning back around to sift around in a box of bandages. "We are, but we're still human and our eyes can weaken over time." He turns his head, tapping the frame of the glasses. "Turns out staying up reading all those med journals in the dark isn't good for your eyes."

"Yeah." You mutter, stepping forward and putting your box of supplies down as well. Sneaking another sidelong glance at him you're cought in the act when you find him staring directly at you.

He cocks his head to the side, glasses sliding a little down the bridge if his nose. "You can have them back if you-"

"No!" You say, maybe a little too quickly. He raises an eyebrow, a little smirk teasing in the corner of his mouth. "They look good on you." He pushes the glasses up his nose with one finger, turning back to rummage in the box.

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Fuck"

"Oh, you'd like that wouldn't you." He whispers in your ear, hot breath sending a wave of goosebumps down the side of your neck. You can feel the hard edges of the glasses still perched on his face pressing into the side of your head, surely fogged up from all the 'organizing' the two of you had been doing.

It had only taken a matter of minutes before he had trapped you against the wall of the storage closet, lips finding the curve of your neck and working their way up to where they now sat perched against the crown of your head. His fingers had gone the complete opposite direction, descending down the front of your pants to work their magic.

His fingers curled up again, drawing another senseless moan from your lips. Your fingers gripped his shoulders, squeezing tight enough it surely would have left marks if not for the armor. "Please, please Kix." You whine, fingers scrabbling against the smooth planes of plastoid. Your head snaps back with another kink of his fingers and a thud echoes through the small room.

His other palm come up behind your head to cradle the dull ache, the warmth of his hand a soothing contrast to the growing heat below. "Careful love, wouldn't want anyone hearing would we?" He murmurs, lifting his face away from your head. The glasses are indeed fogged, and sliding down the bridge of his nose, its almost endearing. His hand slides around the back of your head, moving to cradle your jaw instead. The pad of his thum presses against the seam of your lips and you open them obediently, surrounding his thumb with the warmth of your mouth.

His eyes darken, pressing down to leverage your jaw open. You blink at him blearily, legs shaking slightly from having to hold yourself up for so long. Then his fingers move, pushing up into you again and drawing an embarrassingly loud moan out. Your eyes widen, knowing someone could have easily heard that, someone probably had heard that. He just grins, removing his fingers from your mouth and letting you snap it closed sheepishly.

"Shhh" He hisses through his teeth, eyes glittering mischievously over the rim of the glasses. You glare at him, grunting when he starts to move his hand at a steady pace. He leans down, one arm above your head, lips hovering above yours. "Is this what's got you so worked up, hmm?" He murmurs. "Your glasses?" His lips find their place on yours, pushing them apart and muffling every noise to slip out of them.

You don't even try to fight him, not that you can in your position. You just let your head lean back, lips breaking away from his as you choke out obscene noises. The building pressure is making it harder and harder to think straight, your mind only occupied with what is just out of your reach. "Kix-"

"I know, I know. Just relax." He whispers, lips pressing to your forehead. You try, you really do try but your body is tensing up as if in preparation. You're so close you can practically feel it, already craving the satisfaction your release will bring. So close, the drag of his fingers along your walls so familiar yet somehow making you feel new ways you didn't even know were possible. Just a little more, one more push of his fingers-

Suddenly the movement inside you stops, his fingers rest. Your eyes fly open, a cry slipping out of your mouth ready to be aimed at him. His hand slides across your mouth, cutting off the noise before it can be completed. He's not looking at you, head tuned to the side and facing the door- the door, oh shit the door. Your eyes snap in that direction, landing thankfully on the closed door.

"Did you hear that?" He murmurs, glancing back down at you. You freeze, trying not to focus too much on the fact his fingers were still buried inside you. Then you hear it, the sharp wail of the med bay alarm. You let out a groan of annoyance, body going limp against the wall. The muffled noise turns into a moan as the slight change of position shifts Kix's fingers just slightly.

His eyebrows raise slightly above the rim of the glasses, a smirk appearing on his face. He pulls his fingers away from you, drawing another wanton moan out of you. He brings the soaked fingers to his lips, putting them in his own mouth.

Taking a step back, he pushes the glasses up. "I think I'll keep these." He turns, hand on the door already. "For next time."

With that, he's out the door and into the med bay. Leaving you to collect yourself in the closet, and hoping that next time is very, very soon.

A/N: I feel like this started off well but went downhill at the end ragh whatever 😀🔪🔪

A/N: This is the result of me watching The Bad Batch while ovulating. This is (probably) not how the Force works but your honour I was horny. Thank you to my dear @thefrogdalorian for the immense help and support! I love you so much! Amazing divider by @saradika-graphics At the end of the fic you'll find the links to some amazing Hunter fanarts I found here on Tumblr! These were such an inspiration when writing and I wanted to thank and credit the artists for creating such amazing pieces!

Masterlist - Read on Ao3 - Read Part 2 here!

Another day, another dangerous mission in the Outer Rim.

Nothing new for you and your Master who are used to leading these missions successfully. The only difference is that this time you'll be assisted by Experimental Unit Clone Force 99. It’s the first time you even heard about them, but your superiors assured you they’re best suited for this job. A highly-skilled squad of defective clones with desirable mutations? Sounds interesting.

Apparently, The Bad Batch, as they call themselves, despise rules and protocol and adopt unusual methods to get the job done… Much like you and your Master.

Their ship has just made a bumpy landing on the field, causing a fuss. You watch curiously as the squad descends the ramp. There are four of them, and they undoubtedly look badass in their black armour.

The first one – their leader, you assume – removes his helmet and... damn. Damn. He's hot, with a confident look in his deep brown eyes. He also has long, wavy, dark hair; a feature which has always been a weakness of yours. His face is half covered in a tattoo that resembles a skeleton. He's undoubtedly the most charming of the Batch, and also the most attractive clone you’ve ever come across.

“I’m Sergeant Hunter,” he rasps as he greets you and your Master. His voice is deep and husky, very different from those of all the other clones you’ve met so far.

After introducing himself, Hunter moves to quickly describe the peculiarities that make each of the members of the team unique. As you stand back to observe them, you can’t help thinking just how much fun they are. Wrecker (the strong one) is getting reluctantly lectured by Tech (the smart one) while Crosshair (the laconic and lethal sniper) stands there in silence. He reminds you of your Master so much.

As much as you enjoy observing the rest of the squad, you find your gaze returns to Hunter, the clone with enhanced senses. You are unable to tear your eyes away from him. You know you have to keep it together, but you can’t help eating him with your eyes. Your gaze lingers on his body, on the way his pauldrons make his shoulders even broader, how much the black colour of his armour suits him. 

You have just begun fantasising about the way his strong body would look without the armour when you notice Hunter staring directly at you. Busted. You lock eyes for a few seconds and you just know that he understands the nature of the thoughts you’re having about him. Then, your pounding heart skips a beat when Hunter winks at you. It is a split-second gesture that is over so quickly amidst the chaos of the conversation, a little secret between the two of you. You smile flirtatiously at him in response.

The whole group begins heading towards their ship, The Marauder. While the rest of the Batch and your Master head up the ramp towards the ship that will take you to the rendezvous point, you and Hunter pause at the bottom.

“I’m afraid I haven’t caught your name, sweetheart?” Hunter asks, breaking the silence with his deep, raspy voice.

"I am a Jedi, not a sweetheart," you point out teasingly and look at him with crossed arms, trying to sound tough.

"A Padawan," he reminds you with a smirk on his face.

You watch curiously as Hunter takes your braid – the unmistakable sign of your rank as an apprentice – between his fingers. He gently rolls it between his gloved finger and thumb contemplatively as his brown eyes meet your gaze once again. 

"I technically outrank you, Sergeant," you say, challenging him.

"You do, Commander," Hunter nods, but makes no effort to move his hand away from your braid, or to interrupt eye contact.

Hunter can tell that you don’t mind the gesture. As if to push the boundaries further, he moves his hand from your braid to gently place it on your cheek. The leather of his glove feels soft against your face. You are stunned that a seasoned soldier such as him can actually be so gentle in the way he touches you.  

You can feel the tension coming from the two of you, a simmering fire somewhere deep within. It's only a matter of time before it boils over. You look at each other straight in the eyes, neither one of you daring to look away.

Just as you're about to tease him with yet another witty reply, you hear the sound of footsteps at the top of the ramp.

"Hey, Hunter, are you gonna come with us or what?!" Wrecker shouts, abruptly interrupting your shameless flirting.

"On my way," Hunter replies, without breaking eye contact with you.

His intense gaze lingers on you for a few more seconds before he looks at you apologetically and turns to head up to the ramp and onto the Marauder.

As soon as Hunter turns away from you, you realise just how hard your heart is thundering in your chest. His gaze was so intense that it made you forget to breathe properly. So much for the Jedi breathing techniques. It turns out if there is a handsome man with dark eyes flirting with you, they lose all effectiveness. You take a deep breath, filling your burning lungs with oxygen. 

When you enter the ship, you are still trembling. As you take a seat next to your Master, you try to ignore his accusatory glare. You feel his eyes burning into your soul as the guilt threatens to overwhelm you, even though nothing too scandalous happened.

As the Marauder enters hyperspace, your Master takes a seat on the cold metallic floor in an isolated area of the ship. Meditating before battle is a ritual he always follows and you immediately join him. It can help you shift your focus back to where it should be – on the mission. Only, you can't focus. 

Instead of your mind becoming one with the Force, you're highly attuned to the actions of the members of the squad. It is as though you can see them as if you were standing before them: Tech studying the holo-maps, Crosshair cleaning his sniper rifle, Wrecker taking a nap, and of course, Hunter. He is mindlessly playing with his vibroknife as he slouches on a crate. 

You are entranced by the way his fingers move across the handle and the blade. Maker, the movement of his hand and fingers – you can't focus on anything else as he makes the knife masterfully swirl between them. There's something so erotic about the way he plays with it. Your mind wanders to think about his hands roaming on your body, slipping between your thighs, skillfully rubbing your clit. You fantasise about how quickly Hunter would make you come, how hard your orgasm would be as it tore through you, leaving you a trembling wreck.

Your focus then goes to his muscular thighs. Hunter’s legs are spread wide and he looks so effortlessly masculine. The aura of confidence he radiates as he comfortably sits there, taking up the entire crate as he lounges on top of it, gives you even more thoughts that are unbecoming of a Padawan. It makes you almost dizzy with want as you think about how much you want to straddle him and ride him into ecstasy.

“Are you done?” your Master’s cold voice interrupts your filthy train of thought with a brief and concise message through the Force.

He heard your thoughts. Each and every single one. Your Master caught you red-handed. How embarrassing.

You are too mortified to even mumble an apology, through the Force or otherwise. Instead, you sit there wishing you could be anywhere else in the galaxy as you feel the heat rise in your cheeks and pull your hood up to hide your flustered face in your cape.

Luckily, before the awkward moment can continue for any longer, Tech announces the imminent jump out of hyperspace. You still cannot bear to make eye contact with your Master, shrinking into your blessedly baggy cape as you begin the descent into the planet’s atmosphere...

The mission was a success – you and your Master worked your magic with the precious support of Clone Force 99. What seemed like a desperate operation, turned out to be an extremely important victory for the Republic. Training with your Master has been so hard, but damn did that pay off. You slayed all your enemies elegantly and effortlessly, just like he taught you. The whole Bad Batch congratulated you two. Wrecker was especially impressed, electing the two of you as his favourite Jedi. What an honour. Hunter also invited you and your Master to celebrate the victory by having a drink all together in a cantina.

Just as you’re about to enter the cantina and join the Bad Batch, your Master calls your name. You stop in your tracks, scared that he might reprimand you for the way you acted today. You begin panicking and thinking back to what happened in guilt…

When you and your Master had taken off your heavy capes before engaging in battle, you noticed Hunter couldn't keep his eyes off you. You were wearing a skin-tight dark suit, after all.

It was a fact you decided to exploit after Hunter had given his squad their orders for the mission. You walked away swaying your hips, making sure you gave him a great opportunity to look at your ass. You remember how you could feel his eyes glued to it. You could also feel his desire for you. It was impossible for him to hide; it permeated him, radiated from him. Maker, you love making him crumble.

You think back to the way Crosshair rasped, "Hunter, don't lose your focus.”  You are certain that is what your Master is about to scold you for.

Instead, you watch in shock as a half smile appears on your Master’s face, something you don't see very often.

“You did good today. I’m proud of you,” he nods.

Since when does your Master pay you compliments like this?

“Th-Thank you,” you stammer, caught off-guard by how unexpected his praise is.

“You fulfilled your duties as a Jedi. Now, go and have your fun.”

You don’t have time to respond before he turns on his heel and walks away, cape billowing in the breeze. You know your Master doesn’t often like to stick around after missions, often needing some quiet time to himself to decompress and meditate. You let him go, knowing that he will find his way back to the Marauder before it departs, as he always does.

As you step into the Cantina, a smile spreads on your face when you notice the Bad Batch sitting at a table with a full flagon of booze and an empty seat for you to toast your success. You and Hunter lock eyes again as he invites you to sit in that spot close to him.

Hunter loses no time in placing his arm around your shoulders while smiling at you. You lean into his embrace, feeling comforted and protected.  The warm presence of his arm around you makes you smile contentedly. It feels so good to let the guard down for once, especially if you're in the arms of a handsome, strong and charming man such as Hunter.

As the night goes on, the three other members of The Bad Batch keep conversing with each other, giving you and Hunter the opportunity to speak privately. It’s as though the background noise fades out. You don't even bother focusing on the discourse the others are having. It’s just you and Hunter flirting shamelessly now.

“You know, I've never seen a ship like yours. I wish I had time to properly explore it... Thoroughly," you flirt with him while draining the last few dregs in your flagon.

"Want me to give you a tour, sweetheart?" he says with a smile on his face, perfectly understanding your intentions.

"Would be cool, yeah," you reply.

Hunter offers you his hand and you gladly accept it with a mischievous smile.

Just as you stand, you feel the alcohol has definitely kicked in. You’re not drunk though, just a little bit tipsy, enough to make you brave and go get exactly what you want.

As soon as you and Hunter get out of the cantina and find yourselves alone in the dark alley, you both give into the instincts you tried to suppress all day long. Hunter pins you to the wall as you pull him closer at the same time, until you join in a passionate, longing kiss.

You welcome his tongue in your mouth as his hands wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him. His touch and the way he kisses you are so confident that you clench around nothing, holding him tighter as you moan in his mouth. Maker, you want him. His whole body jolts when he feels that, pinning you harder against the wall, mentally cursing the armour that is preventing him from feeling the softness of your body against his. 

He stops kissing you just so he can look at how stunning you are under the moonlight, hot and flustered after that first, heavy session of making out.

"Look at you. So beautiful," he whispers as he cups your face with his hand, the other one still lingering around your waist. Hunter is treating you like the most precious thing in the galaxy now that he can finally have you all for himself. You lean into his gentle touch as he takes in all the features of your face, especially the way your eyes glimmer with admiration and arousal for him.

You look at his deep, dark and expressive brown eyes and the strong, masculine features of his face that make you throb with need. Your hand caresses his cheek, following the lines of his skeleton tattoo and the contour of his chiseled jaw. He observes you as a sweet smile appears on your face, making you look irresistible and drawing his lips closer to yours once again…

"Hey! Where's Hunter?!" you hear Wrecker shout from inside of the tavern, just as your lips are mere inches apart.

You and Hunter both laugh as you resume the kissing. It's like the whole galaxy stops existing. For a soldier who has seen nothing but war, his kisses are to die for. Your tongues twirl in each other's mouths and it's like his greedy lips can't ever get enough of yours. His mouth is hot like a damn furnace as he takes all the time in the galaxy to worship you with his lips, letting his hands wander throughout your body. You're getting soaked already, feeling your arousal slowly dripping down your legs as a throbbing need pulsates between your thighs. You moan in his mouth as you dig your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. The kiss is getting deeper and more passionate as you go on. 

Hunter's lips start to trail down to your neck, making you sigh deeply as he covers it in kisses. Your scent drives him wild. He can smell your pheromones, feeling you're unmistakably full of desire. He can't resist and just gives a swift lick from the base of your neck to your ear that makes you sharply stifle a gasp, arching your back and tightening your grip on his hair.

"Let's go to the Marauder, shall we?" he rasps in your ear, a voice full of lust that gives you goosebumps.

"Y-yes…" you stutter, feeling light-headed with arousal and being incapable of hiding it.

He offers you his hand as you enter the ship. The two of you cut a clumsy path through the Marauder towards Hunter’s bunk, frequently taking breaks where Hunter desperately pushes you against the cool steel walls of the ship, your arms clinging tight to his shoulders and his face buried in your neck.

"Maker... Take off your armour," you plead as his teeth dig into your delicate skin like a feral beast would do with his prey.

He does, letting each piece fall to the ground as you go on kissing each other, leaving a trail of armour pieces on the floor as you slowly make your way towards his bunk. He looks stunning with just his tight black suit on. You take in the broadness of his shoulders, the way his pectorals stand out, highlighted by the tightness of the suit and grope the strong muscles of his biceps. Oh, fuck. How much do you love a man. Tall, muscular, strong, confident, with dark eyes and a head full of long, wavy hair. A Man. 

You moan in his mouth when you feel his thick biceps flexing under your touch. A smile forms on his lips as he feels how much you like this. As his arms wrap around your body, yours go in his hair. Maker, how safe do you feel in his arms. It's such an innate instinct – wanting to be held in the arms of a strong man, surrendering and trusting him, something that usually you would never be permitted to do in your life as a Jedi.

You can feel his erection against your lower belly, straining against his extremely thin black suit. His fingers hook in the hem of your pants, yanking them down over your ass, exposing your drenched cunt as he sits you down in his bunk.

He kneels before you, taking your boots and pants off and spreads your legs, his dark eyes looking into yours as a smirk appears on his face.

"Hunter–" you sigh.

"Wanna get you nice and ready for me, sweetheart," he coos as he starts to kiss your inner thigh.

The vision makes you tremble with lust and your hands helplessly clench into fists in a desperate attempt to grab the material under you to keep you steady. Your legs shake but he keeps them steady in his strong arms. He goes on trailing kisses on your inner thighs without ever stopping looking at you. He's taking his time with it, wanting to enjoy the way your whole body is throbbing with need. Your breathing gets more and more shallow as his mouth gets closer to where you want him the most. 

You lift your gaze from Hunter’s dark brown eyes, shutting your eyes for a mere fraction of a second, trying to alleviate the aching need you feel. Hunter chooses that moment to finally give you what you need. With a quick lick to your clit, your whole body jerks into his touch and a whimper escapes from your lips.

Hunter smirks up at you, the corner of his mouth lifting upwards in a smug, satisfied look. Then, he proceeds to bury his face between your legs and masterfully lick your swollen clit. His tongue brings you so much pleasure that your back arches involuntarily, pushing yourself further into his mouth. You moan his name and grab a handful of his long, thick hair. He purrs in your cunt when you entangle your fingers in his hair and you notice how his grip on your legs becomes tighter.

"Oh... Oh fuck!" you exclaim in ecstasy, barely able to form words.

One of his hands releases its grasp on your legs, which he has been using to keep you spread open for him. You throw your head back gasping as he slowly slides two of his thick fingers inside you. 

"So tight," he growls with a smirk on his face.

Hunter pumps his fingers inside of you, slowly increasing the rhythm, ensuring that you’re stretched out for him. It is a motion that brings you so much pleasure you wonder how it could possibly get better. Your whole body jerks in pure bliss under his touch. He enjoys looking at you like this, you can see it from how darkened his eyes are with lust.

For a brief second, his fingers and mouth leave your cunt, leaving you devastatingly empty. You watch in awe as Hunter sticks them in his mouth, without breaking eye contact with you. He sucks on his fingers, humming while closing his eyes to savor your taste from places where his tongue can’t reach.

"You taste so good, sweetheart," he rasps as he resumes fucking you with his fingers.

He watches you contort under him, moaning and begging for him to return his skillful mouth between your thighs. Your hips thrust up and down right in front of his face. You are shamelessly fucking yourself on his fingers, inviting him to bury his face back in your folds. You desperately bury your hands in his hair in an attempt to pull him closer.

"Damn, you're so beautiful like this," he says before his mouth goes back exactly where you wanted.

Then, Hunter does something absolutely devastating. While he continues licking your clit, he starts sucking it gently, all as he continues pumping his thick fingers inside of you. Hunter wants to draw an orgasm from you, his actions becoming more and more frantic as you grow closer to your climax. He can feel by the irregular way you breathe and shake that you're close. 

"Yes. Yes. Like this. Let go, sweetheart," he encourages you.

It's only a matter of seconds before you come, writhing under him. Your legs are wrapped around his head, squishing it. You scream his name so loud it echoes in the Marauder. Hunter is pleased as he looks at your blissed-out expression and feels your cunt clamping around his fingers. Your back arches as you ride your orgasm, pushing yourself further into his tongue so you can feel him licking you through your orgasm. Hunter purrs into your cunt, loving the way you let go around him. He loves how his face is getting soaked in your arousal, so addicted to the way you taste.

Hunter holds you steady as your orgasm fades out. When you regain your senses, you slowly release your grip on his hair. Only then he props himself up and slowly unzips his suit, showing you the beautiful golden skin underneath. A warm contrast under the black, tight layer.

The dark hairs on his chest are perfectly trimmed, accentuating each of his toned muscles and the tattoos which decorate his thick, masculine body. Your gaze is locked on his hand trailing down his abdomen, his muscles rippling as he approaches the hem of his pants. 

You shamelessly look at the bulge in his dark suit, a sight that makes your mouth water. Hunter’s lips curve into a smirk once again, noticing that you like what you see. The smug look on his face makes you throb with need once again, despite the fact that he just gave you an intense orgasm.

He hooks his thumb in the hem of his pants, watching intently for your reaction as he slowly pulls the material down to reveal the trimmed, dark hairs around the base of his thick cock.

Hunter notices the intense way you look at it and hears the whimper you just tried to suppress in your throat. He can feel your heart rate going up. It makes him smirk confidently as he goes on, finally freeing his hard, thick cock. You gulp while looking at it, as he uses the same fingers he had buried in you to cover it in your arousal. He gives it a few, firm strokes to ensure it’s nice and wet for you. The mere vision of it makes you bite your lip to muffle another impatient whimper.

Then he is on you, peeling your shirt away from your quivering body, rejoicing when he can finally touch it and worship it with his mouth. Hunter trails kisses across your collarbones and down towards your breasts. He swirls his tongue around the sensitive flesh there, before softly biting your nipples. You gasp when you feel his erection hard against your cunt. He starts to thrust his hips against yours so his cock can rub against your drenched core, getting it soaked in your juices. Your mind turns completely blank at that, heart thundering in your chest as his hands roam across your body. 

Hunter aligns himself to your entrance, groaning as his cock slowly makes its way inside of you. You admire his restraint. You know how much he probably wants to take you with one thrust, but instead he is being so gentle and careful with you, making sure that you are well-adjusted to his size.

He takes your jaw in his hand, looking deep inside your eyes as his thick cock stretches you open. You struggle to keep eye contact with him, unlike earlier when you were flirting with him. Now, your eyes only want to roll backwards. The pleasure you feel as he splits you open is overwhelming your body and senses.

You pathetically try to mumble some incoherencies, but he's quick to shut you up with a kiss. Hunter growls low in his throat when he feels your walls desperately clenching around him, as he buries himself into you to the hilt.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you feel so good," he rasps, almost desperately before giving you another wet kiss. Then, he raises his hips only to bury his cock deep inside you, making you moan into his mouth.

"How – how can you feel so fucking good?" he whimpers.

Hunter’s large hands gently cup your face, as he continues placing passionate kisses against your lips while thrusting into you. You notice his kisses become more desperate as he slowly increases the rhythm. As Hunter picks up the pace, he buries his face in your neck, panting low in your ear. 

You are certain that he can’t go any faster, before he proves you wrong. He increases the pace to a brutal rhythm, fucking you so hard you start screaming.

"So loud,” he rasps, “They're gonna hear us in the Cantina." 

"Then make me shut up," you whisper daringly.

A blaze of lust glimmers in his eyes as you lay down that challenge. Something shifts inside of him as he gives you a feral, animalistic look. Hunter quickly covers your mouth with his hand, showing you his more dominant, commanding side which makes you clamp tightly around his cock.

"Oh, you like this," he smirks, satisfied that this is precisely what you wanted all along.

You nod frantically. There is no use hiding how much this turns you on. Despite how much Hunter shows care towards you, you suspect there is something darker which lingers below the surface. You want to draw it out of him. 

"What else do you like, hm?" he coos as he wraps his other hand around your throat, lightly choking you, his thumb rubbing your throat possessively.

The sight of you, looking so vulnerable under him as he can finally dominate you makes him frantic with lust. Gone are the measured thrusts and even rhythm of before. Something feral has overtaken Hunter, a desperate need to claim you. He continues silencing your moans with one hand around your throat and one across your mouth, muffling your gasps as he wrecks you with his cock. 

Having Hunter's hand muffling your own moans gives you the opportunity to hear his desperate grunts and pants as they mix with the obscene, squelching sound his cock makes each time he thrusts into you. You close your eyes in bliss, enjoying this moment of pure pleasure. 

"Can't keep your eyes open for me, sweetheart? Look at me with those pretty fucking eyes," he growls.

You can't help but whimper at that, at how authoritative he sounds. The Sergeant of The Bad Batch is dominating the fuck out of you. You are a moaning, gasping mess beneath him, unable to think about anything other than how good being furiously pounded by him feels. 

"I didn't catch that,” Hunter rasps as he slowly lifts his hand from your mouth. He leans down to put his ear against your mouth “What were you saying, sweetheart?"

"L-let me – fuck!” you gasp, too blissed out to form words.

“Use your words,” Hunter commands, slowing his thrusts down so you can finally speak.

“Let me touch you!" you beg, unable to care about how desperate and pathetic you sound. All you can think about is roaming your hands around the warm, firm expanse of his body.

Hunter smirks, intrigued by your request, only too happy to oblige you. He grabs your hand roughly by the wrist and positions it over his abdomen. You can feel his muscles flexing and contracting under your touch as he thrusts into you. His body is as hard as iron and on fire like a damn furnace, burning with lust.

"Maker…" you whisper.

You let your hand trail up to his firm chest. You grope his pectorals, appreciating the firmness of his muscles. Your cunt clenches around his cock at the sight of your hand against his golden skin. A smirk appears on his face, enjoying what he does to you.

Your hand goes up to his broad shoulder, rubbing over it before you move your hand towards his back. You feel how his muscles strain there with each thrust as he continues pounding into you at a relentless pace. Both of your hands are now caressing his back, feeling every single dimple under your fingertips. Just as you try pulling him close, he starts to give it to you even harder. You scratch your fingernails along his back. You watch in awe as Hunter moans in your mouth at that. 

"Could–could fucking smell how much you wanted me earlier. You distracted me the whole time. Couldn't think of anything else besides how good you'd look with my cock inside of you,” he rasps in your neck before biting you, growling wildly as he does. “I was so fucking hard for you, sweetheart," Hunter grunts. 

He's so feral for you, fucking you so hard. You can't even mumble a response.

"Smell so good – so fucking good–" he whispers in your ear.

"D-don't s–stop," you mumble in your cockdrunk delirium.

"I can't, sweetheart. This cunt's all I ever wanted,” he growls, “Gonna make you mine. Mine." 

"Oh, fuck… Yes," you pant as he props himself up, kneeling in front of you without stopping that devastating rhythm for even half a second.

He looks at your body, at the way your boobs bounce with each thrust as he gives it go you even harder, holding on tight to your legs, using them as leverage to bury himself even deeper inside of you. Seeing him like this makes you remember just how badly you wanted to ride his cock earlier.

"Hunter. Hunter. I want to ride you," you whimper.

"Is that an order, Commander?"

"Y–yes. Yes. Order. S–s-sergeant," you mindlessly go on as he keeps thrusting his cock inside of you.

The thought of you bouncing on his cock makes him throb. In an instant, Hunter lifts you in his arms as if you were weightless and makes you straddle him. He sits with his back against the wall of the bunk. His hands are on your waist and you immediately start rocking your hips up and down, giving into your fantasy from earlier.

"Such a good soldier… So good at following orders," you whisper against his lips.

"Yeah… Sometimes," he smirks before gripping your hair and stealing another wet, hot kiss that makes you melt into him even further.

Your head rolls back in pleasure at the way his cock feels from this position. It's devastating, hitting something deep within you. You almost lose yourself in that feeling, but Hunter won’t allow you to. Even though you are on top of him, Hunter is quick to remind you who’s in charge as he takes your jaw in his hand.

"Eyes on me," he orders firmly.

"Yes, Sergeant," you moan. 

You swear you feel him throbbing and choke a grunt when he hears the sensual way you pronounce his title. Clearly, using his rank in this context has done something to Hunter. He moves his thumb between your lips and you suck it provocatively, never stopping yourself from meeting his gaze. Hunter’s pupils widen at the sinful way your lips envelop his finger and your tongue gently touches it. His eyes take into your sensual, precious beauty, before bringing you to him and kissing you again.

Your bodies are damp in sweat and rubbing against one another. Your nipples deliciously catch against his hairy, broad chest. You continue moaning into each other's mouths; your tongues never stop touching.

"Hunter, I'm gonna come–" you whimper.

"Hold it for me, sweetheart," he rasps in a sweet, yet dark voice, having the opposite effect from what he intended.

"Please, I want to come on your cock," you plead desperately.

"Not yet," he smirks.

Hunter grabs your hips and guides your movements so that your clit starts to rub against his pelvis. You let out a loud moan as you hold on to him tighter, digging your nails in his shoulders.

"I can't hold it!" you scream with your eyes shut.

He grabs your chin in his hand, clearly uninterested in your desperate appeals.

"Look at me," he says firmly as you open your eyes. Your vision is too blurry to focus on him but you try nonetheless.

"Now come for me, sweetheart," he rasps darkly.

You obey his order and come hard around his cock. An overwhelming, intense wave of pleasure starts at your core and completely takes over your body. You’re wrecked by uncontrollable shakes as Hunter holds you in his strong arms. You scream and pant as you ride your high. Your eyes roll backwards while Hunter focuses on how beautiful you look when you lose control. Especially when he is the one responsible for it.

Hunter feels your heart running in your chest and every single contraction of your muscles around his cock. The unmistakable, heady scent of sex that fills the Marauder drives him insane, making him burst inside of you. He grunts loudly as he fills you up with his load, holding you tight in his grasp.

You moan in each other's mouths, your forehead leaning on his as you look into each other’s eyes. You never leave each other’s gaze as you both give into the highest of pleasure.

As you come down from your high, your rhythm slows down until it stops completely. Your bodies are intertwined like vines, naked and sweaty as you catch breath in each other’s embrace.

You really do make a great team, after all.

Tonight 79's was more alive than usual, laughter and chatter filling the bar as clones and civilians mingled together. It seemed a few battalions were in for quarterlies at the same time. The familiar smell of drinks, sweat, and cheap food filled the air as you navigated your way through the throng of bodies, your eyes instinctively scanning the room.

Your gaze first landed on a few Coruscant Guards, their red and white armor standing out in the crowd. They were regulars here, often taking up the same tables whenever they were on leave. Tonight, however, there was a greater mix of clones than usual, and as you continued to glance around, you noticed lot’s of white and blue armor scattered throughout the room. 501st troopers, their distinctive color making them easy to spot. They seemed to be blowing off steam, you even spotted a few troopers in white and orange armor from the 212th, drinking and laughing nearby.

Your attention was drawn to a specific table, though. It was occupied by what you could only assume were commanders—men who carried themselves with an air of authority. One of them, in particular, stood out immediately. Wolffe.

You recognized him right away, his grey white armor, the scar running across his face and his piercing cybernetic eye making him impossible to miss. You had... history with him. Your stomach fluttered slightly at the memory of your brief but intense encounter. His gaze, as sharp as ever, scanned the room in a manner that suggested he was aware of everything happening around him.

You made a beeline for the bar before he could spot you, you had different plans tonight. Then, in the corner, your eyes caught sight of another group. These clones were different, and it wasn’t just their black and red armor that set them apart. They were seated away from the rest, almost as if they preferred to keep to themselves. The distinct markings on their armor marked them as members of the elite squad known as the Bad Batch. Even seated, their presence was commanding, and they seemed quieter than the rowdy groups of 501st and 212th troopers, observing rather than fully engaging with the revelry around them.

You’ve never seen them here before, only heard of them, but they were hot.

You pulled your gaze away and made your way to the bar. You leaned against the counter, watching the sea of armor and uniforms, feeling a familiar, restless heat building inside you. It had been weeks since you'd last been satisfied, and the men in here -all strong, built, and confident- were tempting you more than you could bear. You licked your lips as you scanned the room, each clone more attractive than the last.

You'd heard whispers about what went on upstairs at 79's - the dark room where anyone could go, seeking quick satisfaction without names or faces. The idea had always thrilled and terrified you in equal measure.

You'd never dared to venture there. But tonight, after weeks of pent-up desire, the temptation was too strong. Tonight, you were sex-starved, and all the rules you usually held yourself to seemed unimportant. You wanted this. You wanted to be touched, claimed, filled without the usual game of having a drink or two and then hoping your choice of the evening would take you some place more private.

A particular clone caught your eye, his broad shoulders and easy confidence standing out even among the crowd. He was tall, his skin a beautiful tone of caramel and the silhouette of his armor sharp as he moved through the room. You watched as he headed for the stairs, your pulse quickening as you realized where he was going.

The dark room.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. You had fantasized about it, the thrill of being touched by strangers, of surrendering to the anonymity of the space, letting yourself go. Your heart pounded in your chest as you made your decision. Tonight, you'd take that risk.

You ordered yourself a drink, something strong to ease your nerves, and downed it quickly, feeling the warmth spread through your chest. Then, with one last glance at the stairs, you headed toward the women's restroom. Your breath was shallow as you locked the door behind you, the anticipation building with every second.

Standing in front of the mirror, you looked at your reflection - flushed cheeks, lips slightly parted with excitement. You reached down, sliding your hand between your legs, teasing yourself where the wetness had already begun to pool. Your fingers slid through your folds, just enough to warm yourself up, your breath hitching as you touched your clit. You were ready for this. So ready. After a few moments, you straightened, took a deep breath, and slid your panties off, tucking them into your clutch.

With one last look at yourself in the mirror, you turned and walked out, making your way upstairs to the dark room. The nerves prickled under your skin as you approached the unmarked door.

You pushed it open, stepping inside, and the world around you shifted into complete darkness. The air was thick with heat and sweat, the faint sounds of whispers and bodies moving against each other filling the space.

Your heart raced, your senses heightened in the absence of sight. You waited for your eyes to adjust but they didn’t, it was pitch black. The darkness was thrilling. You couldn't see a thing, but you could feel everything - every brush of fabric, every shift of movement in the room. You stepped forward carefully, your breath shallow as you ventured deeper into the room, your body buzzing with anticipation.

And then, you bumped into someone.

Before you could react, hands were on you. Not just one pair - several.

Large, strong hands gripping your hips, sliding up your sides, cupping your breasts through the thin fabric of your dress. You gasped, your pulse skyrocketing as one hand slipped beneath your dress, hiking it up to expose your bare skin.

"No panties, seems someone’s eager" a voice murmured, filled with appreciation.

A shiver ran down your spine as fingers trailed up your thigh, finding you wet and ready.

You heard a soft gasp of surprise as one of them realized how slick you were, the heat between your legs betraying just how much you wanted this. You barely had time to react before someone dropped to their knees behind you, and the next thing you knew, a hot mouth was on you.

You moaned as a tongue pressed into your folds, licking and sucking at your pussy with an intensity that made your knees weak. Hands continued to roam your body, pulling your dress down to expose your breasts, pinching your nipples, squeezing your ass. You were surrounded, claimed by their touch, the darkness only amplifying the sensation.

"Fuck, she's so wet”, one of them whispered, his voice rough with lust.

You didn't know who they were, and in this moment, you didn't care. All you could focus on was the overwhelming pleasure. The tongue between your legs worked expertly, and you bucked against them, your body desperate for more. Hands gripped your hips, pulling you back against the mouth that devoured you.

Suddenly, someone stepped in front of you, pressing the thick head of their cock against your lips. You moaned, opening your mouth eagerly, taking him in as he slid between your lips. His hand threaded through your hair, gently guiding you as you sucked him, hollowing your cheeks and bobbing your head.

"Good girl," a deep voice rumbled above you, sending another shiver through your body.

Your mind was spinning from the sensations - one cock in your mouth, another pair of hands working your body, a tongue between your legs. The feeling of being used by all of them, of being taken so completely, had you trembling with need.

And then, just as you were about to fall apart, the mouth on your pussy was replaced by something thicker, harder. You gasped around the cock in your mouth as someone slid into your pussy from behind, filling you to the brim with one smooth thrust.

"She's tight," the voice from behind you groaned as he buried himself deep inside you, his hands gripping your hips as he started to move. "So fucking tight."

You moaned around the cock in your mouth, your body stretched and filled in every possible way. The rhythm between them was perfect - one thrusting into your mouth as the other fucked you from behind, their movements in sync, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

"That's it," the voice behind you growled, his hips slamming against your ass as he picked up the pace.

"You're taking us so well, sweetheart.”

Your body was on fire, pleasure building with every thrust. You could barely think, lost in the overwhelming sensation of being filled so completely. Your hands gripped the cock in front of you, desperate for more as you sucked him deeper into your throat.

You were surrounded and claimed by the men around you. Their armored bodies pressed against your soft skin, their hard edges digging into you, heightening every sensation. The cock in your pussy pounded into you relentlessly, driving you closer and closer to the edge, while the man in front of you thrust deeper into your mouth.

"She's close, getting so karking tight" someone murmured, his voice thick with desire.

You could feel it - the tension coiling in your core, ready to snap at any moment. The hands on your body, the feel of their armor, the sensation of being taken by multiple men at once - it was almost too much. You moaned around the cock in your mouth, your body trembling as the man behind you pounded into you with abandon.

"Come for us," the man inside you growled, his thrusts becoming erratic.

"Let that perfect little pussy squeeze my cock”

With those words, your orgasm ripped through you, your pussy clenching hard around him as waves of pleasure crashed over you. You moaned around the cock in your mouth, your entire body shaking as you came.

“Fuck”

The man behind you groaned loudly, his hips stuttering as he followed you over the edge, spilling inside you with a deep, guttural moan. The one in front of you wasn't far behind, groaning as he pushed deeper into your mouth, his cock pulsing as he came down your throat. You swallowed eagerly, your body still trembling with aftershocks as you took everything they gave you.

Before the pleasure had fully faded, he pulled out, but his place was immediately replaced by another cock, hard and ready.

You barely had time to catch your breath before the next man was inside you, filling you once again. The sensation of being fucked over and over, by man after man, their armor pressing against your skin, their hands all over you, pinching you nipples, fingers pushing into your mouth, it was overwhelming. You lost count of how many times you came, your body spent but still craving more. It was intoxicating you couldn’t get enough and you knew you’d be sore the next day, but you didn’t care, you wanted more.

Fingers slid into your pussy next, followed by another cock, and the cycle repeated. Your throat was raw from moaning, your legs trembling and obscene amounts of cum dripping down your thighs as they fucked you hard and fast, each one claiming you like you were theirs.

By the time you finally left the dark room, your legs were shaky, your body blissed out from more orgasms than you could count, your pussy leaking cum with every step you took and you felt completely satisfied, your skin buzzing with the afterglow. You couldn’t stop smiling and you knew you'd be coming back for more.

When you got home later that night, you reached into your clutch for your panties, but instead, you found a small note. Your panties were gone.

With a sly smile, you unfolded the note, reading the simple words:

"Until next time."