#clone trooper x reader

.✦ ݁˖ wrecker

loves you by feeding you. for wrecker, food is the best way to demonstrate his love for you, other than physical touch. feeding you properly keeps you healthy, which is important to him. and putting effort into meals that he knows you’ll love, whether he’s cooking it or ordering, is how he shows you that he cares. 

and he doesn’t just figure out what your comfort food is and spam the same thing. he knows what foods will help you most in certain moods. you prefer sweets after a long, hard day? he’s got it covered. even keeps little preferences in mind, like what kind of dessert you like following different kinds of meals. all in all just pays a lot of attention to the kinds of food that you like and is always happy to provide it for you.

most of all, though, are the memories you two make together over food. the dinner you two had after a particularly stressful week. the pasta you made together, which turned out horrible since the two of you had gotten distracted and forgotten it was on the burner. the ice cream you ate on the steps of the marauder, simply enjoying each other’s presence. 

food is how he cares for you, how he shows you that he remembers, how he makes good memories with you. all-in-all a big win for him, since he loves eating too.

.✦ ݁˖ hunter

loves you by protecting you. we all know this man is overprotective as hell. and while he might be a little strict sometimes, he has no intention of roleplaying as your mom. he doesn’t throw orders at you; you’re his partner, not his subordinate.

if he doesn’t want you going out alone in a particular neighborhood, he’ll join you. if he doesn’t want you going on a 3am run to grab comfort food, he’s going out to get it for you. if he wants you to be careful about over-exerting yourself, he’ll just help you do what needs to get done, sharing some of the burden.

in this way, he pampers you a lot, leading you to become a little spoiled lol (just how he likes you). may not be the richest man in the galaxy, but he has other ways of coddling you. won’t let you lift a finger if he can help it, but he won’t ever let you feel like you’re losing your independence either. knows how to find a good balance between the two.

.✦ ݁˖ echo

loves you by being confident in your relationship. sounds like the bare minimum (it lowkey is) but it’s something that a lot of relationships lack. he will always think of you in the best light, careful not to let his insecurities mar his image of you.

even though echo does become easily doubtful sometimes, given his past trauma, he actively puts in effort to not let these thoughts damage your relationship. if you accidentally forget something, he’ll remind himself it doesn’t mean you hate him, or that he’s not important to you. after all, everyone forgets things sometimes! especially in the middle of a war, things tend to slip people’s minds. if he tries to reach you and you don’t answer, he doesn’t let the wait consume him. he reminds himself that it’s healthy for you to have a life outside of him, and will never hold that against you.

and if he’s feeling particularly insecure about something, or needs some reassurance? he’ll just communicate that, and without accusing you. instead of why did you do x or why didn’t you do y, he goes “can we spend some time together soon? i feel like i need it,” or “i’ve been feeling a little down lately, can you help?” even though it’s hard to be vulnerable sometimes, he’s willing to do it to protect your relationship - communication is key!

overall, just loves you by being patient, constantly working on himself, and always believing you have the best intentions for him, the way he does for you.

.✦ ݁˖ tech

loves you by knowing you. a little obvious for tech, i know, but it’s true. he doesn’t just do research, though. of course, he’ll make sure to learn facts about your home planet and its traditions, or read up on any medical condition you have. but he knows that he can only learn so much through secondary research. his favourite way of learning about you is through you.

nothing you say is forgotten by him, especially if you’re talking about your childhood or an experience that’s important to you. he loves listening to you talk, and you know that your words are cherished. definitely spends a lot of time getting to know you, asking you all sorts of questions, and appreciates you doing the same for him. getting to know each other in this way feels just as intimate as any physical touch.

although tech isn’t very good at expressing his emotions in the traditional sense, he has ways of showing you he cares. you off-handedly mention thinking of dyeing your hair? he will find out what kind of dye is best for your hair colour and hair type, and spend a long time with you deciding which colour suits you best. nothing about you is unimportant or unworthy of his time. 

he’s never creepy about how much he knows, either. he understands that knowing you does not entitle him to disrespect your boundaries. uses his knowledge to always keep you comfortable, whether that be physically or emotionally.

.✦ ݁˖ crosshair

loves you by quietly noticing. provides you with everything you could want and need, but pretends to be all nonchalant about it. sometimes, he flat out refuses it was him. 

ever since getting close to him, you have never run out of anything. he is very observant and notices what kind of products you like to use or what materials you need. your face wash is almost empty? the next day you go to the fresher, a new one has taken its place. you spend some time trying to dig around the pantry for a good snack? you’ll find the pantry restocked a few hours later. you tore a hole in your shirt? the next day, it will be folded neatly on your bed, the hole cleanly sewn shut. but every time you go to thank him, he either shrugs or goes “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

and secretly, he loves when you do the same for him. even if you aren’t as nonchalant about it as he is, he really appreciates when you do things for him to help him out, like cleaning his armour or even something as small as setting his bed.

.✦ ݁˖ rex

loves you by showing up for you. even though he’s constantly occupied, he will somehow make his way to you when it really matters. he will remember when things are happening and ask you about events both before and after they happen, even if you told him about it a long time ago.

if you have a big presentation, he’ll meet you in the hallway right before, whispering words of encouragement. if it’s your first day at work, he will show up just to give you a good luck kiss, secretly slipping a note in your bag for you to open later, explaining how proud he is of you. and if you do anything in front of big audiences, such as play sports or sing, you best believe he’s going to be in the crowd, cheering you on.

shows up for you in little ways too. no matter how things are going on the battlefield, will make sure not to let it go too long between calls. will always let you to rant, whether that be positively or negatively, to show you that you’re not alone, even if he’s unable to be there physically. overall, just a very sweet boy who’s never going to allow his duties to hurt you.

.✦ ݁˖ fives

loves you by validating your feelings. he firmly believes that loved ones should be there for each other through thick and thin, and demonstrates that philosophy with the way in which he treats you.

when you’re happy, he’s right there with you, matching your energy. when you’re feeling down, he knows just how to distract you. but he understands that not all feelings go away with distractions, and always makes sure that you two have proper conversations about emotional health (both yours and his) on a regular basis.

never allows you to feel like your thoughts or feelings are unimportant. he has no problem providing all the reassurance you need, and doesn’t make fun of you for asking, even if it’s the hundredth time. he knows how it feels to be treated as just another number, and he is never going to replicate that treatment. especially not with you.

.✦ ݁˖ wolffe

loves you through touch. not in a pervy way (unless you want, in which case i don’t think he’d oppose…). uses different touches to convey his feelings, since he finds it more intimate than just talking about them.

tells you how much he loves you through a kiss, more intense if he’s feeling passionate and more soft if he’s feeling a little sappy. comforts you through cuddles. grounds you with a hand on your thigh. tells you i missed you in the way that he hugs you. when he’s feeling more playful, he’ll start a playfight or tickle you. when he’s feeling more earnest, will sit you in his lap and just enjoy the feeling of you on top of him, all safe and sound and comfortable.

even touches you absentmindedly. when you’re in a group, will trace his fingers down your arm or your side. when you’re watching a movie together, will start massaging your neck or your feet. if you’re holding hands, will rub his thumb on the back of your hand. does all of these things without realizing it.

very tough on the outside (he’s the alpha fr) but is a big softie just for you. his favourite thing is when he just gets to hold you, feeling perfectly calm. he has nowhere to be, nothing to do; just gets to lay with you for as long as he’d like.

.✦ ݁˖ cody

loves you by making time for you. he’s busy as hell, but that doesn’t mean you don’t hear from him daily. if he can’t come see you, he’ll call. if he can’t call you, he’ll leave a message. always promises he’s there for you no matter what, and has never failed in fulfilling it.

never feels like his time with you is a waste, and doesn’t let you feel like it either. if it means staying up a little later for him, even if he’s already sleep deprived, he doesn’t care. if it means needing to take a few extra “bathroom” breaks in the middle of important meetings, he doesn’t care. he prides himself in being a good commander, and knows how to simultaneously lead his men and make sure you never feel unloved. even if the two of you are just sitting in silence together, whether that be in person or on call, he cherishes that time.

you try not to bother him too much, since you know he’s busy saving the galaxy, but if you ever call him he will return it asap. sometimes gets a little reckless with it. “cody- are you in the middle of a battlefield!?” after that, you resorted to just messaging him.

.✦ ݁˖ fox

loves you loud and proud. in the same way he’s committed to his duties as a commander, he’s committed to his duties as your partner.

always supports you 100%, in anything and everything that you do. you don’t have to worry about doubting yourself because fox believes in you enough for the both of you. he almost gets offended when you doubt yourself, since you’re his partner and if he chose you, that means you’re strong. (he’s so fucking insufferable sometimes like the narcissism is crazy.)

similarly, fox makes it near impossible for you to be insecure about your relationship. he reassures you constantly, even though it’s usually not soft. he’s blunt, and has no problem saying things how they are. he’s direct when he says i love you, you’re the most important person to me, i missed you. and the fact that he doesn’t sugar coat is better, in a sense, because you don’t have to worry that he secretly doesn’t mean what he says.

is also you’re #1 defender. even if he thinks that you’re wrong in a situation, he’s only going to talk to you about it in private. in public, though? pray for whoever had the audacity to oppose you. 

You guys are on leave and that means Rex can finally get a full night's rest. Obviously, he's a light sleeper due to always having to be ready for a fight, but that isn't a problem right now. He claims he sleeps better when you're with him. Even though you and Rex are in a relationship, nights together are few. You work with the 501st, but that doesn't mean your schedules are exactly lined up. You were lucky to even get a few quiet moments with your lover.

It was frustrating; you're close in proximity, as you're on the same ship as him, but yet sometimes it still feels like there's a distance between you. So, moments like these where you can spend nights and mornings in his arms, you never take for granted.

Currently, you're at some cheap hotel in the polluted urban maze that Coruscant is. It's what you can afford, since the GAR isn't paying their soldiers. Rex feels bad because he wants to be the one taking care of you, but you always insist it's fine. You're telling the truth too.

Renting a measly hotel room is the least you can do for a man who deserves the most. Besides, Rex makes it up in many other ways. He's a very attentive partner. Always checking in on you throughout the day, always finding a moment to come see you when you're having a bad day, bringing you souvenirs and telling you why they reminded him of you, or making you feel cherished as he whispers the sweetest nothings into your ear are a few examples.

You're snapped out of your thoughts when you feel Rex's arm that's around your waist pull you closer to him. He's still sleeping, but his hand slips under your sleeping shirt, seeking the warmth of the skin of your lower back. You watch his face, looking for any signs of him waking up, but when his breathing becomes softer again, you conclude he's not.

You want to reach up and press soft kisses along his face, but you resist the urge in order to not interrupt his rest. You decide to get out of bed and start making breakfast, so that way you don't have to fight any other urges to touch him.

You slowly untangle yourself from his grasp. At first, you hear him murmur something, and you're afraid you woke him. However, he doesn't make any other move. You tiptoe to the small kitchenette and, as quietly as possible, start gathering ingredients.

You're in the midst of washing some fruit when you feel strong arms wrap around your waist. You let out a yip of surprise and turn your head over your shoulder to see Rex's face inches from yours.

"What are you doing?" He's the first to speak.

"I'm making us breakfast. Did I wake you up?" you playfully pout.

Rex nuzzles into your neck before he answers, "Yeah, you did."

You feel your heart sink and are about to profusely apologize, but he cuts in, "You know I can't sleep without you, cyare."

You feel your racing heart start to slow when you process his words. You set down the fruit in your hands before turning in his arms. You wrap your arms around his neck before teasing, "My poor baby."

Rex scoffs at your words. You gently pull his head to yours, until you're able to place a soft kiss on his lips.

"Can you ever forgive me?" you put a dramatic pout on your face. Rex lets out a low hum of contemplation, while his eyes dart all across your face, taking in your features.

"I might need another kiss before I decide," he murmurs against your lips. A small grin breaks out on your face before you're pulling him back in. The kiss isn't hurried nor is it deep. It's one that blocks out all the noise coming from outside. One that makes Rex feel like the only thing in your world. One that's full of love.

When you break apart, Rex rests his forehead against yours, not ready to part from you.

"You're forgiven," he whispers, which makes you giggle. Suddenly, you feel his arms move down to hook under your thighs, and now you're up in the air. You cling to Rex as he starts moving.

"Rex, our breakfast," you laugh again.

"Mmm, don't care. I haven't had enough cuddles," he states matter-of-factly. Your giggles don't cease until he's placing you on the bed and crawling over you. He plops himself down on top of you, his weight stopping you from escaping.

"Rex," you try again, but really you don't care about breakfast anymore.

"I'll make us something later. Let me just enjoy having you in my arms," he says looking up at you. You could never resist his big brown eyes. You feel him place a kiss against your clothed sternum before resting his head against it. Your fingers automatically find his scalp to start giving him light scratches, and you hear him let out a hum of contentment before his weight is further relaxing onto you.

"I love you, Rex," you whisper through the peaceful silence.

REX – CT-7567

The first time Rex saw you, he admitted he didn't spare you any second glance as he stood by while General Skywalker addressed you. Too focused on the path ahead, too bound to duty to be distracted. But then, the general introduced you to the legion formally. Starting with your rank, Jedi Master, followed by your name.

When you finally stepped forward, revealing yourself from behind his general, Rex felt his skin jump beneath his armor.

You were. . . not what he was expecting.

From your robes, you looked like a Jedi. You stood like a Jedi. You even had that same mischievous glint in your eyes masked by the perfectly serene calmness. Rex knew all about it all too well. But then, something about you seemed unfamiliar—unpredictable in a way that has his mind blanking and racing at the same time.

Thankfully, he has donned his helmet. Or else you would've seen the surprise openly displayed on his face and the traitorous way his gaze swept over your figure. To assess you, he told himself. Nothing more. Nothing less. Just pure professional curiosity, a captain regarding another general, not a man admiring another individual deserving of such manners.

Rex forced himself to salute, to which you smiled at, and he swore his heart might've stopped.

No, soldiers do not do that.

Especially around the Jedi.

It's unlawful. It's against their protocols.

But then your smile stretched, and you uttered his name so clearly that everything else became so muffled.

“It's nice to meet you, Captain Rex. I look forward to fighting alongside you and your men.”

Yup, it was final. He's going straight to Kix to report his condition, or straight to the Republic to get himself court-martialed.

ECHO – CT-1049

Oh, well he wasn't expecting that.

You were beautiful. Too beautiful. For a Jedi.

And it's making him suspicious.

It's making him question the Jedi, do they just allow highly attractive individuals within their ranks as a new tactic to confuse the enemy? He's questioning every manual and protocol he's ever read, not one mentioned of the slight panic he felt upon your presence. And he's even questioning his purpose to the Republic, why was he even here when all his training suddenly vanished the moment General Skywalker introduced you?

On the outside, Echo performed the perfect salute. Masked by his helmet, protected by his armor. The good image of a soldier loyal to the cause.

But on the inside, he's clinging to every information he has read in case a solution may come up behind his turmoil. That turmoil being why does he suddenly feel lightheaded? Why did his eyes linger longer than usual? Why did his breath catch when you said his name, not his CT number?

You were a Jedi. Completely off limits at the very beginning.

Not only that, a Jedi Master.

Definitely off limits.

Until you stepped closer, just two feet in front of him, and suddenly Echo forgot all the rules and regulations he had memorized. Every word spilled from your lips, every soft hum you produced, every little witty remark you made against General Skywalker's sarcastic humor. It's making Echo cling more desperately, clenching his hand around the hilt of his blaster to remind himself of who he was, what he carried, and what separated you from him.

But then, you smiled at him again—gentle and unforgivingly beautiful—and suddenly Echo might consider breaking a rule or two just to see it again.

FIVES – CT-5555

Now, Fives was the most curious one of them all.

His curiosity can sometimes get him in trouble, more often than not. And from his experience, curiosity was a dangerous thing. It can lead to unsuspecting roads where either he's regretting his choices or making a claim to everyone he knew that he told them so.

The moment General Skywalker stepped aside to introduce you, Fives’ curiosity was piqued to a dangerously high level. Everything about you screamed of an encryption, waiting to be solved and decoded. And knowing himself, he will stop at nothing until he finds out. Even if it trespassed a line he knew he shouldn't cross.

What's someone like you doing in a place like this? Where did you come from? Why has he only seen you now? Oh, different questions arising, not one answer surfaced, and it's making him more restless in his armor.

You took your time appraising each one of his brothers. Starting from Rex at the front of the line, to Echo just beside him, and finally him.

“You must be ARC Trooper Fives,” Your voice made his chest puff out with pride and recognition. “I heard what happened on Kamino. You and Echo did a good job, I commend you.”

He couldn't help it, he was grinning so wide that it might've looked like picture day during his cadet years. Echo was about to say something, when he stepped forward and stole the words right from his brother's mouth.

“Thank you, General. We're looking forward to performing our best too alongside you.”

The rest of his brothers snickered, and he knew he was in trouble. Very big trouble. He knew what would happen if he let his curiosity win against logic and reasoning. Because again, curiosity was a dangerous thing—uncontrollable, unpredictable, and incurable.

When you left with General Skywalker to be debriefed on the mission, his curiosity never did.

KIX – CT-6116

Maker's name.

As soon as Kix felt his heart flutter beneath his chest, it sank the moment he realized why.

You were beautiful.

More beautiful than any living being he has seen.

You looked like you were born in the high gardens of Naboo, flocked with aides and guards. Your hands were made to cradle chalices and golden spoons, not blasters and lightsabers. He didn't note that to demean your capabilities as a Jedi, you were a master and he wouldn't doubt you were more than capable, but he couldn't help but imagine.

It was the first time someone caught him this off guard. A stranger, a Jedi Master no less, has managed to cause him panic in a way he cannot interpret. Perhaps it was just from environmental stress, from his constant deployment and never-ending posts. But the more he tried to deny it, the more his symptoms didn't make sense.

Pupil dilation. Tightness of chest. Shortness of breath. Tensed muscles. Sweaty palms. Dry throat. Slight confusion. Increased heartbeat.

Acute stress? Possible. Anxiety? No, he didn't feel like having an attack, or maybe it was about to come. Some kind of chronic concussion? Definitely not.

“And Kix, our trusted medic.” General Skywalker introduced him, and it took Kix a second to register before he saluted. Clumsily, clearly out of his forte, and obviously distracted.

Still, you didn't point it out. Instead, you smiled up at him and nodded. “If I ever need someone to heal me, I trust I'll be safe in your hands.”

He finally had a diagnosis for his condition.

He was irrevocably and completely kriffed.

JESSE – CT-5597

Woah.

That's the first thought Jesse had.

Now, that's just unfair. The Jedi are weaponizing beauty now?

He should be listening to what General Skywalker was saying, but all he could pick up was your name, your rank, and how you'll be working closely with them for this campaign. He's telling himself to focus, reminding himself they were as the frontline offense and distractions were the last thing they needed.

But then the Jedi had to bring you out of their temple walls and cause havoc without even knowing the damage you caused. And it looks like he's not the only one. Jesse could pick up his brothers' stance, as straight as training rods, as you walked over to assess them. Each of his brothers, on the outside, did their standard salute and introduction—totally normal and expected.

But Jesse saw right through them.

Rex rambled with his introduction, he did that when he's nervous or lying. Echo stammered, while Fives’ gaze became curious. Even Kix shifted on his feet, he could see the way his hands clenched and twitched. Jesse's almost laughed at their expressions, thoroughly enjoying their not-so-subtle

Oh, you're all gone men.

But then, your eyes slid over to him, and Jesse's grin faltered. So did his composure.

Your smile was disarming, and he swore he could see the sun right in front of him. And for the first time, Jesse felt like everything was testing his strength as a soldier. Now he understood why his brothers were taken back. What more out there when they see you on the battlefield? What more if he sees you fighting armies of clankers without even breaking a sweat?

He can already picture you—deadly, graceful, and strikingly beautiful—and he swallowed the lump in his throat. He was a soldier for kriff’s sake, he's faced worse enemies before and came out battered yet alive. But this time, it wasn't an enemy he needed to survive from.

It was a Jedi, and with you on their side, he thought he might not make out of this one alive.

HARDCASE – CT-9415

“Woah,” Hardcase was the one who was able to speak, and he ignored Jesse’s alarmed glance. “You're pretty. I mean—you look nice. For a Jedi. General. You look good, General.”

All his brothers stopped and stared at him as if he just set off another detonator that destroyed a fleet of starships in one single blow. Not yet, maybe later. But for now, he's busy trying to contain the large lovesick grin on his face. By the looks of everyone's faces, he's failing spectacularly. Not that he cared, he's only saying what they're all afraid to.

“Thank you, trooper.” You replied smoothly, and he almost swooned himself into fainting. “Though, the flattery won't save you from this war.”

The amusement in your eyes glinted, and his grin beamed. Chaos recognizes chaos. He could feel his blood surging through his veins like molten fire, the kind of adrenaline he gets from attacking the enemies head on.

But this time, the one in front of him wasn't an enemy.

It was someone more dangerous.

And Hardcase liked danger.

If he could, he could have it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He wouldn't mind having you for the exact same reasons. Sadly, you were a Jedi. The only thing he could do was look and imagine. And Maker the things on his mind right now could get him court-martialed or thrown off of a cliff with your Force powers if you were ever to see or hear them.

“You're not even hiding it,” He heard Jesse whisper beside him. “Maker, vod. You're doomed.”

“I am, aren't I?” Hardcase whispered back, still staring at you. “But what a way to go.”

Somehow, you must've heard his words. Because the smile on your lips twitched, and he grinned wider at that.

TUP – CT-5385

Oh, wow.

When Tup was woken up earlier by his brothers, he expected a short debrief with General Skywalker in the hangar before leaving for their next planet. No one told him about the new general, and no one told how pretty they'd be.

Tup shuffled quietly, casting glances at your direction as you stood beside Skywalker.

No, you weren't just pretty. You were beautiful. The kind of beauty he heard some of the pilots talk about in 79’s. How they often see angels, with unmeasurable and otherworldly beauty during their flights. He knew damn well those were just pilot talk, a small ongoing inside joke to make others believe a nonexistent creature.

But at that moment, Tup realized they might be right.

Angels were real, and one of them was a Jedi.

He gulped, averting his gaze just time for you to glance his way. He should've not removed his helmet. He shouldn't be finding a Jedi pretty. He should look straight ahead of him, remember why they were here, and not get distracted by someone he has no chance of knowing.

But then his eyes drifted to your direction again, lingering at the small smile on your lips. The way you appeared perfectly serene, as if you're not gonna fly off to war later on. He tracked the way your lashes fluttered softly, the way you nodded at General Skywalker's words, and how you smiled at each of his brothers in line.

“Uh oh,” He heard Dogma snickering beside him. “Little Tup has a crush.”

“I do not,” Tup bit back, but still his gaze wandered to you again. “They’re our general. We can't.”

Dogma nodded, casting him a pointed look. “You telling me that or yourself?”

Sighing, Tup turned to look ahead and nursed his already broken heart.

DOGMA – CT-6922

What? That pretty face is a Jedi? And a general?

Dogma almost bristled under his armor, because no way in all Sith hells was he seeing this right.

You were better off as royalty, or a senator who could flaunt and use their looks to persuade the Senate. He wouldn't even be surprised if you secretly were, and those robes were only a disguise to protect your identity. What was someone like you doing here? Wearing those robes and carrying that lightsaber?

When you directed a smile at his direction, he scowled at the effect it brought inside him.

You were a Jedi. He was a soldier, and he needed to act like one. His brothers might act all smitten right now, but out there, you were just another general they needed to obey. He won't take the bait, you were just a pretty face he needed to respect.

He won't fall for it. He can't.

“I'm looking forward to fighting alongside you,” Your voice carried over, and he fought the urge to flee. “I do have to warn you. My approach is much more forward than Skywalker's.”

“Sounds like you'll lead us to our deaths,” The words were out before Dogma could stop himself. “What makes you so sure you won't?”

The small smirk you gave him should anger him, he hated how it thrilled him instead.

Dogma glared at you, which only made your smirk bigger. “Then, keep up.”

When you left with Skywalker, he cursed at himself for going against his word—he took the kriffing bait.

APPO – CC-1119

Sergeant Appo stood beside Rex, as still and silent as ever, only acknowledging General Skywalker with a short salute.

He must admit. He didn't have any idea of someone else joining their campaign, but another set of help wouldn't be too much of a bad idea. The more numbers they have, the better. Maybe the new general was with their battalion as well, but he failed to remember which one would be accompanying them. Now that he thought about it, he hasn't seen the new general before.

He kept his gaze forward, expression protected inside his helmet.

Appo tuned out most of the words being exchanged, until a sound—lighter than any tune he has ever heard before—hit him harder in the chest than any blasterfire he has survived from.

His helmet shifted, a slight incline towards the sound, and his eyes widened by a fraction when he finally laid sight on the new general.

Sergeant Appo tensed impossibly still, if that were even possible, breath trapped inside his lungs.

Beautiful.

A single word rang clear in his mind, but somehow it didn't feel enough. And Maker, he really tried to tear his eyes from you. But something prevented him from doing so, as if something was drawing him further. The great and unshakeable sergeant, as swift and silent as the wind, was rendered speechless just from presence alone.

It took him a while to come back to reality, realizing that Rex was talking to him.

“Sergeant? Are you alright?”

“Fine.” Clipped and curt, Appo replied dismissively. “You were saying?”

Rex regarded him for a moment, but the sergeant didn't spare him a glance. “The generals are asking if you have the formations ready for the debrief?”

Nodding, Appo caught your eye beneath his helmet. “Yes, I have.”

“Good,” Your voice cut in, and it struck him again like lightning. “Then, shall we proceed?”

Nothing prepared you for the reality of life on Coruscant; your meager credits didn't cover anything close to luxury, and you were so tired of scrounging and scraping by.

It started with dancing at the Cabaret; you walked out that first night with more credits than you'd earned in a year back home. You quickly made a name for yourself, and the credits started pouring in. In almost no time at all, you had an apartment in the upper district, paid for by businessmen and politicians who wanted your company for the night. And when the war started, when you had expected business to dry up, the credits men were willing to throw at you seemed to skyrocket.

You never loved your job, but it gave you freedom you'd never been afforded before. And you weren't stupid, you knew there was an expiration date on the lifestyle you'd gotten used to. But more importantly, you weren't naive — you knew the men who paid for your time would never care about you, not in any way that was real; most had wives and children back on their homeworlds. However, at least for the time being, you had their attention and their credits, which you convinced yourself was enough.

Why did you need love when you had more than you could ever dream of?

But Marshal Commander Fox in all his intimidating glory had accidentally swept you off your feet, literally, one night while you were trying to sneak out of the senate offices. The toe of your shoe had caught on the plush carpet, and for one terrifying second, you were airborne. You hadn't seen him step out of the shadows, but before your fragile dignity shattered across the floor, his strong arms had caught you around the waist and had pulled you flush against his chest.

It felt like something out of a holodrama with your heaving chest pressed against his unyielding plastoid, his impassive helmet tilted to look at your face, and your body buzzing with heat.

And then he said your name, deep and rumbling in his chest, and your knees went weak.

He walked you home that night, the silence comfortable and warm between you, and you let him when he got to your door and showed him just how grateful you were for heroics. Your very own knight in shining plastoid.

It was the first night of your new favourite routine; most nights that you had private meetings in the Senate, Fox would appear from the shadows and steal a few hours with you. After, while you shared a cigarra in bed and traced the scars on his handsome face, the two of you would bitch about your days and the rich assholes who consumed them. He always stayed until you fell asleep, but when you woke, the only trace of him would be a slip of flimsi on your side table next to a glass of water.

You were positively smitten, although you would never admit it. You laughed at yourself the first time you questioned your feelings. He was just incredibly talented in bed, far better than the selfish senators and bureaucrats you were used to. You refused to think about how butterflies had erupted in your gut even before he'd gotten into your bed. Refused to acknowledge that no one had ever cared about you like Fox did. You told yourself it wasn't serious, that you weren't developing feelings for him.

But you couldn't deny the rush of excitement, pure giddiness, that shot through you when you caught a flash of his distinctive armor out of the corner of your eye. Nor the way your heart pounded in your chest when his massive hands hovered over your back, not daring to touch you until you were hidden away from the prying eyes of Coruscant.

And you tried as hard as you could to ignore the disappointment that swelled in your gut when he sent one of the other Guards to walk you home when he was busy. But the sting of rejection always faded when the trooper slipped a hastily scribbled note from Fox into your palm when they dropped off outside your building.

It wasn't until told you that he wouldn't be able to see you for two whole weeks, and your mood had instantly soured, that you knew you had lost your heart to him. You felt sick to your stomach at the revelation, and he was none the wiser as he laughed and pulled you to lay on top of him, nipping the underside of your jaw while he explained that a number of battalions, all commanded by his closest brothers, were coming back to Coruscant from the front lines.

Apparently, the entire Coruscant Guard were doing double shifts to try and manage their unruly brothers who spent most of their shore leave obliteratingly drunk, and that he had been guilted and harassed into taking a day off to spend time with his four younger brothers to celebrate the anniversary of completing their ARC training. You didn't know what exactly that meant, but it seemed important to them, to Fox.

It made something soft take root in your chest as you carded your hands through his silver streaked curls while he cycled between whining about his little brothers and their meddling, and pressing open mouthed kisses up the column of your neck. The affection in his voice while he complained, the way his head would fall back to the pillow and his chest rumbled with laughter as he told you stories about each of them, made you crumble completely. You loved getting to see this part of him.

And despite knowing just how unfortunately this might end for you, you loved him.

Halfway through a diatribe about how one of his brothers had pulled a 'blond little defect' out of the trashchute with a stupid little grin on his face, you had blurted out that you wanted to meet them. Why wouldn't you? They were who he loved, and you loved him.

But Fox had gone silent for a second, and you worried you had made a mistake and showed your tenderness too soon. In your anxiety, you hadn't realized the stupid little grin had gone sharp and bright until you were on your back with him hovering over you. "Yeah, cyare? Wanna meet my di'kut little brothers? Wanna help me make them jealous? Show them how their ori'vod gets taken care of while they're off on the front lines?"

You had folded immediately, nodding eagerly as he sunk into you with a groan that reverberated in your chest. He had fucked you like a man possessed, and despite usually being somewhat quiet in bed, he spent the whole time babbling about how you were going to be the perfect gift for his brothers, and that predatory smirk never slipped off his face. It was the last thing you saw with bleary eyes as he slipped out of your bed that night.

It had been all too easy, and exhilarating, to clear your schedule for Fox and his brothers. And after a week of waiting, your hands shook as you paced the length of your apartment waiting for them to arrive. The dinner you had prepared was ready and waiting, and you had groomed yourself to perfection; you wanted to make Fox look good, and you wanted to impress them — impress him.

But deep down, if you were being honest with yourself, you wanted them to like you. They were important to Fox, and Fox mattered to you. 

Right on time, as if you could expect anything else, you heard them from the hall before the doorbell rang. Nearly identical voices all overlapping, laughing, teasing, before one sharp whistle brought an abrupt halt to the cacophony immediately before the doorbell rang.

You rushed to open it, heels clicking on the wood as you ran to the door and opened it to find four troopers, all adorned with different colours on their armor, standing at your door in what appeared to be begrudgingly obedient silence. And Fox, helmet tucked under his arm, was standing between them and the door with a dark look on his face.

"Do you di'kuts remember the rules?" he growled out.

"Yes, vod," they all sighed in unison.

"Good. Don't make me regret this," he warned before turning to you, the soft smile you were used to growing on his face.

"Rules?" you asked, raising a brow at him.

"Simple: don't say anything stupid to offend you and this isn't a mess hall so don't act like it. Are you sure you want this, mesh'la?"

"Of course I am, Fox," you grinned back, stepping aside. "Please, come in!"

As if the spell of Fox's discipline had been broken by your words, the overlapped conversations resumed as they nearly tumbled into your apartment. You heard Fox sigh and close the door behind them with a gentle click.

"I'm sorry about them, cyare. They forget their manners on shore leave," he whispered softly, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. "If they offend you at all, just tell me, and I'll kill them in their sleep."

"Oh kriff off, ori'vod," the one in the grey armor sighed, taking off his helmet. "We are very well behaved."

"Tell that to my three, full, drunk tanks, Wolffe," Fox hissed back. "And one of your men bit me. I had to get a karking tetanus shot."

Wolffe shot you and Fox a smug smile over his shoulder that reminded you of the hungry grin that Fox liked to give you. But the scar and the silver, cybernetic eye caused you to nearly freeze in your tracks, but you forced yourself to keep moving and keep the smile plastered on your face.

Fox had warned you about the minute differences between them; Wolffe's cybernetic eye, the scar on Cody's temple and his messy, unruly curls, how Bly liked to keep his hair cropped short and often had two yellow lines painted on his cheekbones, and Rex's blond peach fuzz. Still, it had shocked you, but more than anything it filled you with sympathy. These men were fighting for a Republic that treated them as replaceable, that treated them no better than droids.

It made you want to ruin every senator who dared to deny them rights, who dared to pretend like they were better than these brave, incredible men. But that would come later, for now, all you could do was give them dinner and let them know that some people in the Republic appreciated them.

"It smells incredible, ma'am," Bly smiled softly at you.

"I wasn't sure what you all liked, and Fox said 'anything is better than ration slop', which was entirely unhelpful, but I didn't think about allergies at all, so I hope you all can—" you rambled.

"Ma'am," Cody, in his bright orange armor, cut you off. "We were engineered not to have allergies, and I promise, if your food tastes half as good as it smells, we will be bragging about this to our battalions for the foreseeable future." You felt your cheeks heating and nodded, ushering them toward the dining room.

Dinner was… loud, but full of warmth. Fox's brothers took turns asking you questions about yourself, and in turn you had questions for all of them. You tried to keep things light, keep their minds off the war, but the longer you talked, and the more comfortable his brothers seemed to get with you, the more Fox seemed to go silent. He had barely spoken, barely looked at you since dinner had started. He just sat back, staring between his brothers as if he was trying to put some unseen puzzle together.

But other than the Fox-shaped void pretending like you didn't exist, dinner seemed… perfect. Fox's brothers were so fun, so distinct, and so full of life that you couldn't help the way your heart opened to them. Not with how earnestly they praised your cooking, and how they made your cheeks heat when they boasted about how their men would be jealous, and the extraordinary stories they had from the front lines of the war. It didn't take long for you to push them all back into the living room to relax while you prepared dessert and tried to get your racing heart under control.

You were just about to cut into the cake when Rex asked you over his shoulder, almost off-handedly, "It's a nice place you've got. How much did it set you back, if you don't mind me asking?"

Your hands froze, and your eyes flickered over to Fox, who had frozen with his cup of caf halfway to his mouth, staring at your coffee table as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world. Your mind whispered he's ashamed of you, and a thorn of white-hot mortification settled under your ribs.

But you swallowed the lump in your throat, stuffed down the heat of your embarrassment, and smiled at Rex prettily, batting your eyelashes. "I'm afraid I wouldn't know. The Senator from Corsin gets billed directly, at his insistence of course."

You felt the heat of Fox's stare on your face as he whipped around to look at you, but you refused to grant him the satisfaction of a response; it was more fun to watch the realization dawn in his brothers' faces. 

Wolffe was the first to catch on, a slow, sharp smirk growing across his face before Cody gave a small cough and set his drink on the table, and Bly's eyes darted away. The only one who didn't seem to respond was Rex, who simply stared at you, but you saw the hint of approval in his eyes.

"Oh? Was Fox unclear about what I invited you all over for?" you asked, giving them a fake pout. "I'm just so grateful for your service, it's only fair that you get to—"

"Cyare," Fox ground out, his voice tight and angry, but you didn't know why — you didn't lie. And Fox had been the one who rambled about making you a gift for them, you were simply doing what he had wanted.

You abandoned the kitchen and slunk into the living room, hips swaying exaggeratedly in complete silence aside from the slow, echoing clicks of your heels on the floor. "What?" You asked, stopping behind Rex. You ran a slow, delicate finger down the line of his face, watching how his posture relaxed and his shoulders dropped. "You don't want your brothers to get one of the most expensive girls on Coruscant for free, just like you do?"

Rex released a ragged breath as you draped yourself over his back, hands sliding down the front of his chest plate slowly, undoing the small latches you had learned about in your haste to undress Fox many times. You let it fall to the floor with a clatter, humming at the feeling of his warm, muscular body under your hands.

"That's a little rude, don't you think?" you asked, pressing your lips to the side of Rex's neck, feeling the man go rigid under you. His hands were balled into tight fists next to him,

"It's very rude, ori'vod," Wolffe agreed, voice teasing.

"It's just a bit of fun," you pouted innocently before pulling away from Rex and sauntering over to Bly. "Besides, you're all so handsome, how can a girl resist?"

"You're not obligated to do anything, ma'am—" Bly said, his brows furrowed as you came to a stop in front of him.

"Oh, sweetheart, I know," you beamed at him as you sank to your knees, your hands skirting up the edges of his plastoid covered thighs before settling on his codpiece with a grin. "But I want to. Because I want you. I want all of you. If… that's what you want, of course."

Bly choked on his own spit and nodded as you expertly unfastened his armor and snaked a hand under the band of the tight black garment and took hold of his hardening cock with a smile.

"Not all identical, I guess," you winked, pulling the band down before licking a stripe up the underside of his cock. It earned you a shout of surprise before your lips closed around the head with a gentle suck. You could see his hands flexing next to his thighs, his whole body twitching with desire to do something.

"Bly'ika needs permission, pretty girl," one of them said teasingly.

You pulled back to look at his face with a genuine, soft smile and kneaded the tight muscle of his thighs. "You can touch me if you want to, just be nice."

The effect was instant; his hands were gentle as he pushed your hair out of your face and gathered it at the back of your head, pulling you back toward him with the slightest pressure. You let him guide you forward, tuning out the chatter from around the room to focus on Bly.

Somewhere, you heard what sounded like a door closing, and you turned to look, but Bly gently turned you back to him, one finger gently stroking your cheek. "Is everything okay?" You asked, concern swelling in your chest. 

"Everything is perfect, beautiful. Just focus on me right now," he smiled, bright and blinding. And the thoughts disappeared from your mind as you nodded.

His hands were gentle and exploratory, not demanding and harsh, and his moans were more like whimpers than grunts. And they were music to your ears as your tongue swirled around the tip of his cock.

"Kark, you're good at that," he praised, his voice breathy and strained.

You flashed him a quick, wicked smile before you relaxed your throat and sunk down on him nearly to the base, ignoring the way your eyes watered and your jaw strained, focusing on how his fist tightened in your hair and the satisfied groan he let out when your hand wrapped around what you couldn't swallow down.

You worked your tongue and hand in tandem, and it didn't take long for him to go tense under you, his chest heaving and muscles jumping sporadically. You sat back on your heels and let his cock slip out of your throat, letting your hand do most of the work as you sucked on the tip. Bly came with a broken shout of your name, and various curses that you didn't understand.

You pulled off him with a soft pop, his grip on your hair going slack as he sank into your couch nearly boneless. You waited for him to relax, sitting back on your heels as he opened his eyes to look at you. And you smiled at him and opened your mouth, showing him his release on your tongue.

"Fuck, I can't believe you're real," he groaned, sounding almost pained as you preened. 

But a new hand, not Bly's, threaded into your hair and caressed the back of your head softly, almost petting you, before tightening into a fist, holding onto the root of your hair. It wasn't aggressive, like Fox usually was, but it was firm. Commanding. A bare forearm and hand appeared in front of your face, cupped slightly. "Spit," he said, his voice leaving no room for argument.

You tipped your head back to look at him, which he allowed without loosening his grip, and found a shirtless Cody staring you down, eyes hard and unwaveringly serious.

You gave him the most pleading look you could muster, letting the tears pool in your lash line. A soft smile broke across his face, and the grip on your hair loosened slightly to scratch at your scalp. "This isn't up for debate, sweet thing. You don't deserve something so nasty in your pretty mouth."

"Kriff, vod, you callin' me gross or somethin'?" Bly slurred out.

"No," he scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I'm saying she's too precious for something so filthy. So spit, mesh'la. I won't ask again."

You huffed and gave him a small nod, spitting Bly's cum into Cody's waiting hand, grimacing at the mess you made. You gave a little cough, and looked back up at Cody who beamed at you in response and extracted his other hand from your hair.

"I could have swallowed," you argued half-heartedly, wincing at how wrecked your voice sounded and how much you missed the feeling of his blunt nails against your scalp. "I do it all the time."

"Not here, not with us," Cody cooed, brushing a stray tear you didn't know had fallen off your cheek with his clean hand.

"But Fox—" you began, eyes darting over to where you remembered him sitting. 

But Cody caught your chin between his fingers and turned your face back toward him. "No. Not when you made us dinner and are treating us so well. I don't care what anyone else wants, or what you've always done; I want to make sure you're taken care of. That's why you're gonna sit on Rex'ika's face next for us, isn't that right?"

The curl of desire in your gut forced a quiet keen out of you as you scanned the room for the blond man. And you found him, eyes hooded and dark with desire, divested of his armor completely with the sleeves of his blacks pushed up to his elbows and his hard cock tenting the tight black fabric between his obscenely spread legs.

"You want that, cyare?" Rex groaned. "Because, kriff, I think I'd die to taste you."

You nodded and shuffled toward him unsteadily, not trusting your legs to work properly after sitting on your knees for so long. But Rex wasn't having it; he was off the couch almost instantly, scooping you up off the floor into his arms. 

An involuntary gasp escaped you as Rex smirked, "Let me enjoy this, enjoy you. Does anyone else like to put their tongue inside your pretty cunt? Or are they all di'kuts?" 

You gave him a bashful shrug and Rex cursed under his breath as he carried you to the couch he had abandoned and laid you down, staring down at you like a starving man at a feast. 

"May I?" He asked, voice gentle despite the need in his eyes. You nodded, the words lodging themselves in your throat as his hands slid up your thighs and disappeared under the hem of your dress. You could feel how the thin, expensive material of your underwear had been ruined by your desire, your sticky essence making them cling to your skin.

Rex hummed in delight as he flipped your skirt up completely, exposing you to him, and shuffled down until your thighs were bracketing his shoulders. Even the feeling of his breath against your balmy made you squirm and keen, your hips bucking helplessly and searching for friction. 

You were only vaguely aware of another body joining you until a second set of hands had hooked under your knees and pulled your legs open even wider and kept them there, steady and strong. "Just relax," he whispered. "Rex'ika has you."

You forced your body to loosen and let your eyes flutter shut as Rex teased his way from the shell of your knee to the apex of your thighs with his tongue, teeth, and lips. You tried to keep your breathing even but every nip, every suck, every lick made you gasp, moan, and writhe. 

You were nearly about to whine and complain when you felt him lick a stripe up your cunt, the ruined marital barely providing any resistance. But the angle that the seam caught against your clit had your eyes snapping open with a desperate keen and you found that intimidating, unwavering stare of the mismatched silver and brown eyes, and realized it was Wolffe's hands that had kept you folded nearly in half and spread open.

"Please," you whined pathetically, reaching up and pawing at Wolffe's chest while yours heaved and your hips jerked in desperation. "More, kriff, please."

That animalistic grin that reminded you so much of Fox — where was he anyway? — was painted on Wolffe's face as he carefully released his grip on your thighs to brush your hair out of your face. "Just let us take care of you, honey," he crooned as you gasped, feeling Rex drag your underwear down your legs. "We've got you."

Before the last syllable had left his mouth, you felt Rex's tongue on your bare slit and you nearly screamed in relief and agony. Reality ceased to exist; all that mattered was Rex's tongue, never staying in one place long enough. Just when the pressure would build with his tongue on your clit, he would stray and lap against your entrance, and when you started to sink into the rhythm of it, he would move back up to your clit.

High pitched, breathless moans spilled out of you as you thrashed against the weight of Rex and Wolffe's grip. You were so close, but not close enough at all. "Fuck, Rex! Please, I'm so close!" you sobbed, grinding down for more friction.

"Make her cum, vod'ika," you heard someone say from across the room. 

Whatever skill you had thought Rex possessed before paled in comparison to his single-minded determination to drag an orgasm out of you as quickly as possible. All it took was the gentle suck against your clit for your vision to white out and a scream to tear out of your throat.

It seemed like your orgasm only spurned him on, because he pressed himself further into you, making you grind against the ridge of his nose as his tongue fucked your clenching hole. The sting of overstimulation forced the tears to break your lashline as you sobbed in both pain and unbridled pleasure while he coaxed you into cumming again.

But the continued pressure on your sensitive clit had you whimpering in more pain than pleasure as you tried to scramble backwards away from his ministrations. Instantly, the pressure was gone and gentle hands skirted across your skin, soothing you as you shook.

"Sorry, cyare," Rex mumbled into your thigh, voice wrecked but happy. "You taste so good, so sweet. Could spend hours between these thighs."

You felt your cheeks heat as you buried your face in your arms and giggled, feeling almost drunk with ecstacy. "Stop it," you mumbled, "You're just saying that."

"Now, mesh'la," someone tutted, "You can be shy all you want, but Rex doesn't lie."

You sighed and uncovered your face, pouting at Rex who was still smirking at you from between your thighs, lips shiny and wet from your release. Seeing him like that made you whine and toss your head back as another wave of desire flared in your gut. 

It wasn't helped by Wolffe's fingertips skimming up your arms and across your chest, his touch featherlight and leaving you breathless.

"Can we get you out of this dress, pretty girl?" he asked, his fingers dipping into the hem of your neckline to trace the edge of your breasts. You nodded, trapping your lip between your teeth to stop the pathetic moan from escaping.

But Cody appeared in your line of sight, and gently coaxed your jaw open, only letting the furrow of his brows drop when your lip against your teeth had been replaced with his long, thick finger pressing down on your tongue. "None of that now, we need words, gorgeous," he said, voice tender but firm.

"Please," you mumbled, the word barely recognizable with Cody's digit in your mouth but you didn't care. The time for shame had long come and gone, and you trusted them, because Fox trusted them. 

"Anything you want, cyare," Cody said, smile like sunrise on the horizon. "Tonight is about you."

Suddenly, Bly had replaced Wolffe's strong, sturdy frames and he and Rex worked in tandem to peel your clothes off. They didn't push, didn't pull, didn't rip, didn't demand; they held you with reverence, unbuttoned and unzipped as if you were something precious to them. And the whole time, Cody and Wolffe stood over you and watched, eyes darkening as you were revealed to them, piece by piece, garment by garment. The four of them seemed consumed by you.

And the praise, whispered hot and breathless against you as they worked: the skin of your neck, the shell of your ear, the swell of your breasts, the fat of your ass, the junction of your thighs, the slope of your calf, the inside of your ankle. 

It wasn't long before you were barefoot, naked, and breathlessly sandwiched between them, not an inch of you from your neck to your toes had been left untouched or unkissed — you wouldn't be surprised if every inch of you had been left bruised by their mouths. 

But you were missing something; that small, empty feeling that only Fox managed to drive away had returned, sitting in your chest like a stone. It made your eyes blur with tears you refused to let fall, and the tips of your fingers go numb.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Bly asked, kneading into your hips with a frown.

"I just…" you choked out, but you shook your head and forced a smile on your face, willing the tears away. "It's nothing, I'm just being silly. Don't—" you tried to lie, but you were cut off by a voice you hadn't heard almost all night.

"You want them to kiss you, don't you, cyare?" Fox asked, his helmeted head appearing between Cody and Wolffe's. Just knowing he was there made the pressure lift off your chest, but seeing him, even though you couldn't see his face, had you sinking into Bly and Rex with a blissful nod. "You want this to be more, you want to know this is real, isn't that right?"

"Mesh'la," Rex sighed, pressing his lips to your forehead, "You should've said somethin' earlier." 

It was all the confirmation your blissed out brain needed; you surged up and slotted your mouth against his with a hum of satisfaction. You felt yourself melt even more into him as you tried to memorize the difference between him and Fox, but he disappeared too quickly for you to grasp anything other than the feeling in your gut.

You tried to complain, but before the words could escape you, your head was tilted backwards and Bly's mouth descended yours. He was sweeter, more tender than Rex, but the feeling of his lips pressed against yours made the butterflies on your stomach flare all the same.

"I think our vod'ika are being selfish," you heard someone laugh, your eyes fluttering open to see Wolffe and Cody still looming over you, Fox now gone back to wherever he had been hiding, with matching grins that made your stomach flip, and free of their blacks with matching, leaking, erections that made your heart start to race.

You felt Rex chuckle against your chest as Bly sighed, both of them pressing lingering kisses across your skin as they extracted themselves from where they had been cocooned around you, and were seamlessly replaced by their brothers' imposing frames.

The energy in the room shifted immediately; where Rex and Bly were familiar in the way they teased, they were softer and sweeter than Fox. But Wolffe was menacing in the same way Fox was, all sharp and predatory, and Cody was reserved, but gave you the same impression that disobedience wouldn't be tolerated. You wanted all of it, wanted to learn all of the minute ways they were similar and different, wanted to know what each of them liked and how to get them worked up.

But any attempt to think of the future disappeared when Wolffe's teeth sunk into your neck with a groan in tandem with Cody's tongue slipping into your mouth with the press of his lips against yours. You let their hands wander, both more insistent than the other two had been, and you took the opportunity to let your hands wander too — down Cody's chest with one hand, and up Wolffe's massive thighs with the other.

They were both so warm, so solid, and you couldn't resist the temptation to wrap your hands around their cocks, earning twin moans. It made you feel powerful to have these strong, gorgeous men, panting and desperate for you.

"I told you she was good," you heard Bly chuckle breathlessly.

Wolffe's hands got more bold, pinching your nipple with one hand while the other found home around your throat — not squeezing just there. Like both a threat and a promise wrapped in one. 

"It's my turn, ori'vod," he grumbled and Cody pulled back with a smirk. "You let the youngest go first, and then you make me wait? Is this payback for Felucia, because you need to get over that."

"Are you gonna kiss her, or are you going to complain some more?" Cody asked, kissing your cheek, your jaw, then your neck, while subtly turning you to face Wolffe. 

You saw the flash of a smile and striking silver eye before he dove in, nipping your lower lip before sucking it into his mouth. His was the most demanding kiss, the most insistent, but you refused to back down and nipped his plump bottom lip right back.

"Who do you want first, beautiful?" Wolffe grunted, pulling back as his hips chased your fist subtly. "Want me to wreck you first, or do you want Cody's boring vanilla shebs first?" 

"I'm not boring," Cody groaned, dropping his head forward to mouth at your chest, all teeth and tongue.

"Yes, you are, and you know it," Wolffe argued, grabbing your hips and canting them backwards, trapping your hand and his cock between his hard body and your ass with a grunt before he spoke again. "Being a Marshal Commander has made both you and Fox so karking boring—"

"Can I have you both?" you asked innocently, stopping the words in their tracks as a symphony of moans reverberated from around the room.

"Are you sure, cyare? We don't have to if you don't want this," Cody asked breathlessly.

"I'm sure, Cody. I want it. Want you. Both of you," you replied honestly. 

Without a second of hesitation, both had batted your hands away from their cocks and Cody's fingers had found their way into your cunt, scissoring you open while Wolffe rubbed tight, quick circles around your clit. Your eyes rolled back as you went totally boneless and pliant, letting them have their way with you.

It was only when you felt the press of two blunt cockheads against your entrance did you realize what you had signed up for. The stretch of them was borderline painful but wiped every coherent thought out of your head and completely destroyed the ability to form words. All you knew was them; the heat radiating off of them, the salt of Cody's sweat mingling with your juices on your tongue from where he had pushed his fingers in your mouth, the sharp zing of pain from Wolffe's teeth against the back of your neck, and the all-consuming fullness that made you want to squirm away and also press yourself further into the feeling.

It felt like their cocks never ended — you didn't think you could take any more but you kept sinking down, inch by impossible inch, until it finally stopped and all three of you went painfully still. But the sudden hitch of one of their hips forced a breathless gasp out of you as you shattered completely. The orgasm was a total surprise and simultaneously not at all as you shook and sobbed, completely at their mercy while they moaned in unison and started thrusting gently in perfect, precision strokes.

"You're gonna have to cum again for them, mesh'la," Fox said, his tight voice cutting through the cocaphony of moans, and the buzz in your ears from somewhere out of sight. "If you don't, they're going to argue about who made it happen."

"Shut up, vod," they both groaned, picking up their pace.

Black spots started to dance in your vision as the pleads for release started pouring out of your mouth nonsensically, nearly unintelligible with Cody's fingers in your mouth. But they seemed to understand; your pathetic whines urged them to go faster, to snap their hips into yours harder.

You came with a broken half scream-half moan as you dug your nails into Cody's thick, gorgeous neck as his tongue invaded your mouth again. You felt his hips stutter to a stop with a groan and a flood of warmth that made you yank Wolffe's neatly trimmed hair back in surprise, which made his jaw clamp shut on your shoulder with an almost pained whine as he followed suit, chasing after his orgasm with short, sloppy thrusts that made you whine and wriggle.

"Stop fucking moving, Wolffe," Cody growled, dropping his forehead onto your free shoulder.

"She feels too good," Wolffe grunted in response, but stopped moving regardless.

"She's perfect, show some respect," you heard Rex sigh.

"Kark, yeah she is," Bly groaned in response.

You cautioned a look to the rest of the room, and found Rex and Bly sprawled out on the floor in front of you, both with cum drying on their stomachs and heaving chests. It made you smile to see them so relaxed and obviously happy, despite the fact you weren't even touching them.

But then your eye caught the movement of red and white in the shadows of the room, and you smiled fondly, watching him shake out his hair after removing his helmet. You reached your hand out toward him with a sleepy whine.

"You did so good for us, cyare," Fox grinned, pushing himself out of the chair in the corner. 

"I thought you left. You seemed mad that I—" you started, voice going wobbly with tears but Fox shook his head. 

"Never, cyare," Fox promised. 

"You probably heard Rex kick his bucket halfway across the room," Bly added.

"Or Wolffe drop his chest plate when you took Bly in your throat," Rex defended himself.

"I was here the whole time, I got it all recorded—" Fox patted his helmet, ignoring his brothers' teasing "—for when you're missing them while they're away. And for them too, when they're missing you."

The thought of it made your walls flutter — pulling pained moans from Cody and Wolffe — and sleepy, mumbled satisfaction from Rex and Bly. You watched him shuffle around the room, eyes growing heavy as he collected discarded armor and assorted them by colour, before removing and stacking his own and stripping down to nothing.

His hands were gentle when they threaded into your hair, and moving entirely on instinct, you let your jaw fall open and go lax. You saw the brief smile before he pushed himself into your waiting mouth slowly and settled heavy in your throat as your eyes fluttered closed. Fox hummed in appreciation as both Wolffe and Cody stroked your sides and pressed soft, open mouthed kisses to your shoulders and cheeks.

You were halfway asleep when a featherlight fingertip circled your sensitive clit in tandem with Fox's gentle head scratches and you came with a shiver, swallowing the moan around Fox's length as he came down your throat with a low moan of his own.

"Perfect, mesh'la, you're too good for us," he sighed, easing himself out of your throat before cupping your face to press a tender, chaste kiss against your mouth.

"Karking perfect," Rex agreed.

"Best gift ever," Wolffe sighed. 

You opened one eye to look at Fox, who was smiling at you like you'd hung the stars in the sky. "I told you that you were the perfect gift."

"A week ago!" you argued with a yawn.

But Fox shook his head and sighed, "This is a tomorrow conversation. Right now, bed."

The subtle order in his voice had his brothers moving as if on instinct; Cody and Wolffe detangled themselves from you, scattering a constellation of apologetic kisses across your skin as they pulled out of your cunt while you whined and cried at the discomfort before they deposited you into Bly's waiting arms. He bundled you in a blanket and carried you to your room, where Rex was waiting with a washcloth and a clean shirt. 

By the time they had cleaned you up, Fox was waiting in the center of your bed with open arms, bracketed by a half asleep Cody and an almost totally asleep Wolffe who had made themselves comfortable in your usually cavernous bed. Your eyes fluttered shut as Fox tucked you into their embrace and you felt the bed shift as Rex and Bly joined the pile. 

You sunk into the pile of limbs, the murmurs of the five brothers bickering lovingly lulling you into unconsciousness.

But he isn't, and you know it. A few weeks ago, he'd left for a mission on the planet Saleucami, intent on tracking down General Grievous and bringing him in.

That night, the night he left, was the first time he kissed you.

You're taking your relationship with Rex slow. Trying, despite everything he makes you feel, not to get too attached in case something happens—in case there's a mission Rex doesn't come back from.

You know that over every mission, every goodbye, looms the threat of never seeing Rex again. Every time he leaves he promises he'll come back, but those promises are more often than not empty.

They're just reassurances, said to make you feel better, usually accompanied by a hug—or, in the case of last time, a lingering kiss that makes your heart flutter every time you think about it.

But really, how could he know? Rex is no Jedi, and despite how little you know about the ancient religion of warriors, you know that their ability to see the future is rare. To cheat death, even more so.

Rex is mortal.

You wish, selfishly and horribly, that he wasn't.

The memory of your first meeting flashes before your closed eyes. A cafe on the upper levels of Coruscant, open windows bathing the tables in sunlight, warm summer air wafting in through the open door. You were working on your datapad in the far corner, absently sipping your coffee, when a gaggle of identical soldiers walked through the front door.

"Is this seat taken?" Rex asked, then, and you were so starstruck by his sharp features, his gentle smile, his shock of blond hair—that all you could do was shake your head and stare.

He still throws you off your guard. Still makes your heart skip a beat with his smile. It's effortless for him but oh-so-beautiful to you. You smile sadly, eyes still closed as you imagine him carding his calloused fingers through your hair, making your tight bun come loose.

Cyar’ika, he calls you. Beloved.

"Cyar’ika?" asks a voice, and you can't help the gasp that escapes you, because you think you're dreaming—you must be dreaming.

Maybe you wished him into existence, you consider as you whip around in your chair to see a bleary-eyed Rex standing in the doorway to your bedroom. But no, Rex really is there, wearing a pair of boxer shorts and a simple grey t-shirt—both of which you bought for him, along with several other civilian outfits. Just one of the many things you did at the beginning of your friendship to make him feel like he belongs.

"Rex," you breathe in disbelief, standing up to meet him. His arm is in a sling and his cheekbone is bruised purple. "How—how long have you been here?"

He smiles, and though it's lopsided and half-asleep, it makes your stomach do backflips. You choke back a relieved sob and throw yourself into Rex's arms, not caring that your tears are wetting his shirt.

"Oof," he coughs out, tensing slightly. "Ow—cyar’ika, my arm—"

"Sorry, sorry," you say hurriedly, pulling away. Staring up at Rex now, you feel the sudden urge to kiss him with everything you have. You look down at his arm sling and frown. “You’re hurt.”

“I’ll live,” Rex says flippantly. “It’s not too bad.”

“If you’re sure,” you say quietly.

"I’m sure," he whispers into the quiet, uninjured hand coming to rest hesitantly at the nape of your neck. "I missed you."

Smiling widely, you stand on the tips of your toes and press a soft, chaste kiss to Rex's cheek. Just as you're about to pull away, though, you feel Rex pull you back against his body in another warm hug.

His injured arm is pressed underneath your chest, but his other hand is now on your waist as he buries his face into the crook of your neck and inhales deeply, sending chills all down your spine. Despite the shift in his mood, you huff a quiet laugh.

"What?" Rex asks, voice slightly hoarse as he pulls away to raise an eyebrow at you.

You swallow and shake your head, curling a strand of hair behind your ear. "Nothing, it's just—" you shake your head. "I've never seen you like... this."

And, you think happily, it's a pleasant surprise. You bought Rex clothes and gave him the code to your flat several months ago, long before any feelings were made clear—but you've never actually seen him in civvies, much less his underwear. You glance down, and feel your cheeks burn when you realize that they're not so much boxers as they are briefs, somewhere in the middle of skin-tight and loose-fitting.

You clear your throat and look away. "Anyway... yeah."

Rex's fingers under your chin, coaxing you to look up at him, make you blush even more-if that's possible.

Your face feels like it's about to burst into flames.

"I should be sorry," he says quietly, honey-brown eyes searching yours. "I didn't mean to put you in an uncomfortable position."

Rex's gaze is tender and soft, like sunlight spilling over a field after dawn. You can't help but bite your bottom lip briefly before replying, "No, no, you didn't. I’ve told you a million times that what’s mine is yours. I’m glad you’ve finally listened.” You pause. “I just... I had no idea you had the legs of an underwear model."

At this, Rex laughs, voice low and gravelly. His cheeks are flushed too, now, a pleasant pink color that makes you feel warm all over.

"Careful," Rex chides softly, smirking, "or you might overinflate my ego."

You let out a short giggle and feel the sudden urge to kiss him, but your relationship is still so new, so tender and uncertain. Yes, he kissed you before he left for the mission on Saleucami, but it was rushed and spur-of-the-moment.

And you've never kissed him. It's only ever been the other way around.

But as you look up at Rex's honey-coloured eyes, you start to build up the courage to initiate the kiss yourself this time—but he beats you to it.

Because the next second Rex is cupping your cheek with his uninjured hand and pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss seems to last forever. When Rex pulls away, he leaves you breathless and blushing, heart beating faster than you knew it could. After a moment of disbelieving silence, you smile widely and move your hand to the back of Rex's neck, pressing your forehead to his in what he once taught you was a kov'nyn—a Keldabe kiss.

"Thank you," you whisper, breath fanning onto Rex's mouth.

He cards a hand through your messy hair and chuckles softly. "For what?"

You pull away and press a soft, chaste kiss to Rex's lips before smiling widely at him. "For coming back."

"Always, cyar׳ika," Rex whispers. "This is the only place I want to be."

"Really? This dinky apartment?" you ask.

"With you," Rex clarifies. He takes a step closer, pressing your abdomens together, and kisses the corner of your mouth quickly. Then, expression suddenly turning almost apprehensive, he says, "I... I hope it's okay I spent the past few hours here."

You blink. "What?" you ask, taking Rex's hand and leading him to the kitchen. "Rex, why wouldn't it be okay? I keep telling you—I didn’t give you the code for no reason.”

In the several moments of silence it takes for Rex to answer, you hop up on the kitchen table, legs swinging back and forth. Rex is still holding onto your hand with his uninjured one, and it strikes you that you haven't even asked him what happened.

But then again, he rarely enjoys talking about his missions.

A throat clear from Rex makes you frown. He's blushing again. "Well, I just..." he trails off, hesitating. "I kind of fell asleep in your bed without meaning to. I wasn't thinking that maybe you're not comfortable with—"

"Rex." You lay a hand on his jawline. "It's okay. Really. I told you—I keep telling you—what’s mine is yours.”

He looks doubtful. "If—if you're sure..."

You nod. "I am. I promise." There's a long silence; Rex is searching your face like he’s waiting for you to change your mind. You smile reassuringly. "In fact, I’m so sure that… I was thinking of extending the offer to tonight."

Rex blinks. "Tonight...?"

"As in," you hesitate, swallowing your nerves, "I was going to say you could just sleep here tonight. My bed is big enough for both of us, and it's okay if you don’t want to stay but you really shouldn’t have to take yourself home in this state—I mean, you’re hurt—”

A small crease has appeared between Rex’s brows. His cheeks are flushed, his honey-coloured eyes blown wide. You frown and start to pull away, disentangling yourself slowly from Rex’s grasp.

“But,” you continue hurriedly, stumbling over your words, “but I’d completely understand if you’d prefer to go back to your barracks—if you don’t feel comfortable taking that step yet—”

Rex’s uninjured hand, large and firm and steady against your back, moves to take your smaller hand and draws it to his chest. Breath stolen, you stop talking abruptly.

“I do,” he says softly, voice firm but gentle. “Feel comfortable, that is. Here. With… with you.”

You inhale sharply, and move your free hand up to his cheek to run the pad of your thumb across his face—over the bridge of his nose, across his cheekbone, to the slightly-longer-than-regulation blond buzz of hair. "Really? You're sure?"

"Absolutely," Rex breathes. He squeezes your hand and presses a kiss to your forehead. "Your bed felt empty without you in it, you know."

"Hm." You return the kiss, this time on his lips, and it feels more than right. "Well, why don't we fix that?"

“Er,” Rex says.

You clear your throat.

Rex says nothing.

You are standing shoulder-to-shoulder in your bedroom, facing the door to your refresher with your backs to your bed.

Since the beginning of your friendship with Rex, you have always felt uncommonly comfortable with him. Only now that there is something new between you—now that there is a definition for this thing that you have finally decided to act upon, and now that you are faced with the real possibility of intimacy—you are overcome with nerves. It seems that Rex is, too.

“This is—” your voice cracks embarrassingly, and you clear your throat, drawing the sleeves of your work uniform shirt further down past your fingertips. “This is a lot more… intimate than I was expecting.”

Rex turns to you, looking somewhat panicked. “I can go, if—”

“No!” You say hurriedly, turning to face Rex, then feel your face heat up. Don’t sound so desperate. “No, it’s alright, I’ve just never… well, you know I’ve never really done anything like this before—or been with anyone in… in that way…” your voice is trailing off, growing more hushed as you continue.

“It’s—don’t just say that you’re okay with me being here for the night if you’re not,” Rex implores, taking a step closer to you. He reaches out with the arm that is not in a sling as if to take your hand, then seems to think better of it and steps back. “I’m just as lost here as you are.”

You smile, then, and feel a warmth settling over the two of you, and think that perhaps the fact that there is something new between you doesn’t have to make what the two of you have any different.

You take Rex’s hand. “Alright,” you say quietly. “That’s good to know. And I wouldn’t have offered it if I didn’t mean it.”

Rex huffs a laugh, his hand trailing up your arm to cup your cheek; it makes you shiver as warmth trails up your spine.

“Well… we can take it slowly,” he murmurs, and there is something reverent in his amber eyes, like he can’t bear to ever look away. He smiles, then, and it fills you with more warmth than you ever thought possible. “And anyway, I sort of just want to sleep.” He pauses, hesitating for a moment, then tilts his head slightly and drops his hand. “Preferably with you in my arms.”

You cannot help the smile that pulls on your lips or the flutter in your stomach. “I think that can be arranged. But first—I need to shower.” You roll your shoulders back, stretching out your spine. “It’s been a long day.”

On impulse, you lean forward and press another chaste kiss to Rex’s lips; his uninjured arm all but chases your body, drifting to your waist as he leans into the kiss—but you pull away almost immediately, giggling at his disappointed expression and flushed cheeks.

Rex sighs. “Don’t laugh at me. It just gets more addicting every time.”

This only makes you laugh more, walking over to your closet to pull out an oversized sleep shirt and a pair of clean underwear, along with a towel for the shower. You palm the control pad next to the refresher door; the door slides open, and at the same time the bedroom lights wink out, throwing the space into a cool darkness. A sliver of golden light from the refresher spills out, bathing you in warmth, and when you smile over your shoulder at him, Rex is gone.

“Get back in bed, okay?” you say. “I’ll be right out.”

You disappear into the refresher, leaving Rex alone in the quiet of your bedroom.

For a long moment, he simply stands there, listening as the sound of you pattering around in the refresher reaches him from the other side of the closed door. It hums softly around him, in a symphony of simple domesticity—the air filters circulating, the conservator humming from the kitchen, distant traffic whirring outside in the late Coruscant night. He has always loved your apartment, despite it being so different from the constant mechanical drone of the Resolute or the restless noise of the barracks.

In the beginning, the quiet—your quiet—left him disoriented. Now, it is all he waits for on long campaigns.

Carefully, slowly, Rex sits down on the edge of the bed. His injured arm still aches, wrapped up and bacta-slathered though it is. Not for the first time since leaving Saleucami, he thinks of Cut and Suu—of the love they share, and of the line they crossed. Rex wonders if, one day, the two of you might cross that line too.

The mattress dips beneath his weight as it did the first time, just hours ago when he found his way to your bed as you told him he could. He still feels guilty—for coming into your home while you’re not there, despite you explicitly stating that he can.

He runs his uninjured hand over one of the many plush pillows and inhales deeply. The faint scent of your shampoo lingers on the sheets.

What’s mine is yours.

Your words, unconditionally kind and so painfully you, echo in his head.

Rex glances toward the refresher door when the sound of running water begins. This, too—the fact that you have a running water shower, not a sonic, something he hadn’t experienced until you told him he could come to your apartment after campaigns—is a novelty. He imagines you standing under the spray, shoulders relaxing after the long day you endured at work, hair darkening with the water and trailing down your back. The thought makes his chest ache with something he can’t quite name.

Maker, how he’s missed you.

Without really meaning to, Rex lies back against the pillows. He blinks up at the ceiling above him; it is plain and unremarkable—but it isn’t a durasteel bunk above his head, and it isn’t the cold open sky of a battlefield. It’s yours.

Rex’s eyes drift shut for a moment—you did say to get back in bed, after all—but just then, the refresher door slides open with a quiet hiss and pulls him back to awareness. He pushes himself up onto his elbows, blinking sleepily towards the doorway, and watches as warm steam spills out into the bedroom, curling lazily in the air.

Then you step out.

Your hair is damp, the ends darkened with water, and the oversized sleep shirt hangs loosely off your shoulders, one side slipping just enough to show the curve of your collarbone. The hem brushes the tops of your thighs as you walk, toweling at your hair, face flushed from the hot water.

And despite your unreal beauty, Rex wasn’t staring before—he’s gotten better about it, since first meeting you. But now… now, he definitely is.

You catch the look immediately. Your brows lift, and a small, amused smile tugs at your mouth as you continue drying your hair.

“Enjoying the view, Captain?”

Rex startles like he’s been caught doing something illegal, sitting up suddenly and tucking one leg underneath himself. He clears his throat, willing his face to stop burning, and fiddles awkwardly with his arm sling.

“I—what—no,” he says quickly, voice rough. He clears his throat again and attempts a recovery. “I mean—I wasn’t staring.”

You’re smiling at him like you know something he doesn’t. “You were absolutely staring.”

“I was not.”

You drop the towel over the back of your desk chair and turn to face him fully, arms crossing loosely over your middle.

“Oh, really, now?” you ask sweetly.

Rex rubs the back of his neck with his good hand, looking everywhere except at you now—the floor, the wall, the ceiling, the nightstand. Anywhere but the oversized shirt that somehow manages to make his brain stop working. He wants to look back at you, but he knows that if he does, he’ll surely embarrass himself, either by being struck dumb and unable to look away or by succumbing to the insatiable urge to touch you. Which would be rather—well, improper.

“I was… observing,” Rex mutters. It sounds unconvincing even to his own ears.

You snort.

“Observing,” you repeat. “Right.”

Despite your teasing, warmth spreads through Rex’s chest, and he gives in to the desire to look at you again—and he truly cannot look away. The sight of you like this, hair damp and mussed, wearing sleep clothes, more skin bared to him than he’s ever seen—

It feels strangely domestic. Strangely right.

You move toward the bed, towards Rex, and nudge him gently to his feet. As he watches, you pull back the covers he’s been sitting on and climb in; it exposes more of the soft skin of your thighs, along with a quick glimpse of your underwear. Rex files that sighting away to think about later. In this moment, you deserve all of his focus.

“C’mon,” you say softly, scooting to the far side of the bed and fluffing the pillows. You hold out a hand. “Get in.”

Rex takes it—and then hesitates. You notice immediately.

“What is it?” you ask.

“I…” Rex swallows. “You’re sure?”

You frown and scoot closer to him, taking both of his hands.

“Of course,” you murmur, kneeling on the bed so that you’re at eye level with him. You move your hands to rest on his clothed chest, warm and small compared to his unforgiving, obtrusive bulkiness.

“Okay,” he says softly.

You lean in to press a soft kiss to his stubbled cheek, then pull away and look at him with your impossibly beautiful eyes, smiling slowly. “Okay.”

In the quiet, it’s easy to get lost in you—in your flowery scent, in the softness of your knees against his thighs, in the warmth of your presence. He leans in, drawn to you, and whispers, “Cyar’ika—”

You cut him off with a kiss, and this time, it’s different. Before, they were all soft, careful, almost shy—but this one lands with intent, like you know what you want.

For a heartbeat Rex freezes, startled that you were the one to close the distance, but then he feels something in him shift. His hand at your waist tightens of its own accord, reveling in the warmth of your skin even through the fabric of your shirt, and he leans into the kiss with a low inhale. You make a small sound against his mouth that he feels more than hears, and it sends a shiver through his entire body that makes the pain in his injured arm all but disappear.

Your hands move from his chest up to the nape of his neck, toying with the short blond fuzz there, and Rex cannot help the sigh that he releases into your mouth as his lips move against yours.

“Stars,” he whispers in between kisses, breathing the air between your mouths, “You’re so—so soft—”

You deepen the kiss without a word. Rex’s movements are still careful—he is always careful with you—but his hesitance from earlier melts away. His mouth moves against yours with a growing certainty, slow and thorough.

He feels you shift closer on your knees, and seizes the opportunity that comes to him as your balance wavers just slightly. Rex reacts on instinct, sliding his hand from your waist to the dip between your shoulder blades, and guides you back towards the mattress, shifting you so that your head is on the pillow.

Slowly, Rex lowers himself to lie beside you, careful of his bad arm, and props himself up on his good elbow. He turns to look at you, and the sight that greets him is dizzying—your hair, draped across the pillow, is haloing your face; your eyes are bright; your lips are flushed and swollen from kissing. As Rex stares, you smile and reach up to run your knuckles across his cheek.

“Hi,” you whisper.

“Hi,” Rex says softly.

He reaches down to pull the covers over the two of you, and you shift closer to him, moving to lie on your side as he turns into his back. Your arm snakes across his stomach and around his waist, while your leg tangles with his.

“Is your arm alright?” you ask, propping yourself up on your elbow to look up at him.

Rex nods, reaching up with his good arm to brush a stray curl from your face. “You have a way of taking the pain away.”

“I thought about you for weeks. About being here with you,” he says. “Out there, it was… it was all I thought about.”

You hum softly and trace circles over Rex’s chest; it makes him shiver.

“Well,” you murmur, “you’re here now. With me.” You’re talking so quietly that it’s only because of how close you are that he can hear you at all.

“Yeah,” Rex whispers. “It does look that way, doesn’t it?”

With a soft hum, you lean down, kissing him with a kind of reverence that makes Rex’s breath catch. It is the kind of reverence he kisses you with. His hand moves from your cheek to your waist, pulling you a little closer to him as the kiss lingers.

The world outside your apartment fades from his awareness—the city, the galaxy, everything but the warmth of you and the feel of your body against his. For the first time since he left for Saleucami, the war feels very far away.

ori'vod - older brother ; vod'ika - little sister vod - brother ; vode - brothers cyar'ika - sweetheart, darling ner - my mesh’la - beautiful Jetti - Jedi shebs - ass

As much as you couldn't wait to message him when you got his frequency, you surprisingly simply... didn't. You got back to your cabin, all giddy and excited, you opened his comm channel and... you froze. You stared at the small typing bar flickering on the screen for what felt like hours urging your brain to let you do anything.

Cody said he asked for your frequency first, that meant he wanted to talk you – logically you knew this. But your damn anxious brain wouldn't let you message him.

You deleted what had to be five attempts at nice, normal greetings, scoffing at the weird phrasing. Everything you wrote felt off, as if you suddenly forgot all the Basic you've been speaking for your entire life. The words looked wrong and you triple checked the spelling on almost all of them, worried that you'd gotten the simplest ones like 'mission', 'system' and even 'weeks' wrong. It was infuriating.

After half an hour of staring at your comm you gave up, threw it on your bed and jumped in the shower, vowing to finally send a simple 'hi' once you were done.

But that was six weeks ago.

You're sitting on a cot in the medbay now, watching the clone medics milling around. The battle was long and exhausting, but it's finally ended and you're en route to Coruscant. You're not injured – you're there for moral support for Waxer, who caught a stray blaster bolt right at the end of the siege. He'll be fine, nothing major – you're actually in there to keep yourself distracted if you're honest.

You still haven't commed him. You thought about it daily, but you kept putting it off. And now you're on your way back to Coruscant where you'll spend the next seven rotations while the men finally have some much-earned leave.

And you're terrified.

Has he thought of you at all these past weeks? Does he still want to see you? You'd know if you'd managed to kriffing comm him… But your anxiety and insecurities didn't allow it. And well, there was also the other issue… the small, impossible-to-ignore issue of, you know, the fact that you’re a Jedi. You’re not supposed to form attachments. Not supposed to get involved with a clone. Not supposed to be hiding in the medbay, unable to focus on anything around you because all you can think about is seeing Fox again.

Will you even run into him? You don't really see how your paths might intersect – you have no business in the Senate, he has no business in the Temple.

Maybe at the 79s? But he's rarely there. In all the times you’ve been there with Cody, Rex and the other troublemakers of the 501st, you've never seen him in.

No... you doubt you'll run into him unless you actually pick up the comm and send him a message.

But it's been so long. Six standard weeks of no contact. And after what? One single night of drunken mistakes? One amazing night that you can't get out of your head... But who are you kidding – the odds of him clinging to it the same way as you have are slim. There's no way he's still thinking about you.

Fox watches the stream of troopers pour out of the transports, his eyes scanning for any sign of Jedi robes among the orange-painted plastoid.

He’s not really supposed to be there. He happened to be on patrol in the area, noticed the transports coming down, and decided to wait for Cody since he'd not seen him in a while.

Well… that’s the story he'll give him and anyone else who asks what he’s doing at the main Base. But the truth is he'd arranged his schedule this way. He wanted to be in the area, knowing that the 212th was returning on-world.

He wanted to run into you.

Fox had tried a second time to get your frequency from Cody – a couple of days after his vod had refused to give it to him – and he learned that you've also asked for his. And Cody gave it to you.

So Fox waited.

And waited.

And waited…

The first rotation passed as it usually did, with Fox dealing with the banthashit thrown at him by various senators or the Chancellor. He’d not even had the time to check his comm until the evening, and when he finally did, he was disappointed to see there was no message from you. He hadn’t even realised how much he’d been expecting it…

The next rotations were spent checking his comm increasingly often. At first it was a couple of time throughout the day, but as the days turned into weeks and you still had not reached out to him, Fox began to check it constantly… obsessively.

After four weeks he caved and sent a comm to Cody.

CC–1010: Are you sure you gave her the correct frequency?

His brother’s response came excruciatingly slow – the 212th was in the middle of a siege after all.

CC–2224: I did. She hasn’t messaged? CC–1010: Oh she has, we’ve been talking all day, every day, and I’ve commed you for no kriffin’ reason. CC–2224: Don’t take it out on me, vod. She probably came to her senses. It sucks, I get it. But she’s Jetti. You’re a GAR officer. I suggest you follow her example and snap out of it. CC-1010: Thanks, vod. Always such a pleasure speaking to you.

He hated this. Hated that he expected something from you. That a part of him – the part that should’ve known better – kept hoping you hadn’t forgotten what it meant, even if it had only been once. You’d been his moment of warmth in a never-ending sea of anxiety, pressure and political nonsense. You’d been the first real connection he’d felt with another person in way too long.

And he thought you’d felt it too.

Cody was right, however. Fox had to snap out of it. He had to get his head back in the game. He was the commanding officer of the Corries. He had a duty to the Chancellor, to the people of Coruscant, to his vode. He had to focus on that. He had to get you out of his mind.

And yet, every time the comm lit up, he checked it.

And every time, it wasn’t you.

To his credit, Fox really did try to let it go. He tried to focus on anything else – even on the conversations of senators he usually tuned out. But you wouldn’t leave him. You haunted his dreams, your face appeared clear as day in front of him every time he closed his eyes. It was pathetic, infuriating. And it was really getting to him.

His mood had soured more than usual, his patience even thinner than before – he actually made a couple shinnies cry at one point. The others noticed. Thorn, Thire, Stone, even Hound – they all tried to figure out what had happened, their worry for their vod growing.

But Fox was Fox. The more they tried to reach out to him, the more he pulled away. Especially from Thorn, who knew about that night. Knew about you. Knew what to imply with his questions.

His vod tried, but Fox refused to speak about it. Every time Thorn approached him, he would find something that needed his attention, some place he needed to be. He didn’t want to talk about it. Didn’t want to name it. Because once he did, it became real – and real things could be lost.

You asked Cody for his frequency. You had the means to contact him. So why didn’t you? Why even ask for it if you weren’t going to use it? You must’ve wanted to send a message – Fox was sure of it. Was it a rejection? Was that why you hadn’t commed yet –were you going to reject him, tell him that it couldn’t happen again, but you didn’t know how? Were you going to tell him it had meant nothing to you, or worse, that you did regret it?

All these questions swarming in his mind – it was driving him crazy.

You were driving him crazy.

So when he learned that the 212th was returning to Coruscant, Fox decided he needed to see you.

So now he’s here, stiffly stood at parade rest in the hangar of the main Base, as if he’s preparing for a thorough inspection.

Ideally, he wants to talk to you – but he knows he shouldn’t. Because what he really wants is to ask if you’d thought about him, if that night had meant anything to you. He wants to ask why you haven’t commed.

He wants… he just wants to be in your warm presence again, hear the melody of your voice – even if only for a moment.

It’s embarrassing, really, how much of an effect you had on him.

Fox steps to the side to let the medics pass, eyes briefly scanning the injured troopers laid out on hover-stretchers. The first transports are always filled with the wounded – those being moved from field medbays to proper infirmaries, or even to the GMF if the damage is bad enough. He’s actually relieved you weren’t on any of them…

He counts the LAATs that have already landed. He’s read the casualty reports – he knows how many transports should be allocated for the injured.

Then come the officers.

If he estimated correctly, you should be on the next one.

He squares his shoulders and takes a deep breath, the exhale filtering loudly through the voice modulator of his helmet. The transport is approaching. His left hand balls into a fist before he flexes his fingers a couple of times, trying to shake the nerves.

He shouldn’t be this nervous – it makes no sense. He’s never nervous. Not when chasing dangerous criminals through the lower levels. Not when dealing with temperamental, vindictive senators who throw a fit if they don’t get their way. He’s always calm, collected, in control.

Hell, he wasn’t even this nervous that night. He was the one in control – you allowed him to be. Sure, he was also emboldened by the vapours of alcohol, but there’d also been something about you – an openness that encouraged him to let his guard down, to flirt and tease. To be himself. Not a clone. Not a commander. Just–

“Fox?”

The voice almost makes him flinch.

Fox turns, seeing blue-painted plastoid approaching from behind him. His eyes then lift from the tally marks scratched into the vambrace to the bleached buzzcut of his little brother.

“Rex,” he greets with a nod.

Rex’s face lights up. “Didn’t think you ever left the Senate,” he says, clearly pleased to see his ori’vod. “What brings you all the way out here?”

 “Saw the transports coming in, figured I’d catch Cody,” Fox replies casually. “Haven’t seen him in a while.”

Rex pauses, giving Fox a quick once-over. “You alright?”

“Still breathing,” Fox says, then hurries to change the subject. “I didn’t know you were on-world.”

 “Special assignment with Skywalker,” Rex answers. “Redeploying tomorrow. It’s why I’m here actually. Was gonna ask Cody to join me at the 79s tonight.”

The hiss of the repulsorlifts draw Fox’s attention and he glances over in time to see the doors of the LAAT swish open. He swears his heart stops for a moment.

But the first to jump off is Cody.

Fox can pinpoint the exact moment his vod spots him. Cody’s walking beside his general, gaze scanning lazily across the hangar – until he freezes mid-step. His helmet snaps toward where Fox and Rex stand. And he just stares.

This isn’t ideal…

Fox hoped he’d manage to get your attention while somehow avoiding him.

Cody, who will immediately see through his lie and know the true reason he’s there.

Cody, who thinks of you as a little sister and is fiercely protective of you.

Cody, who he’d never seen furious – properly furious – until that night outside his office.

Their last interaction had been that comm exchange two weeks ago. It didn’t exactly end on a friendly note.

“– so you’re coming, yeah?” Rex’s voice cuts in, clapping a hand to Fox’s shoulder.

“What?” Fox blinks, only now tuning back in.

“To the 79s,” Rex grins. “You’re coming with us.”

“Uhm… sure,” Fox mumbles, his gaze already moving back to the 212th’s Commander.

Cody is marching towards them, his helmet now off, eyeing Fox with a mixture of confusion and suspicion. Fox straightens instinctively, his posture going rigid.

The uproar of the chaotic hangar fills the gunship as soon as the doors open, momentarily drowning out the noise of your anxious mind. You’re among the last to disembark the transport, hovering around Waxer despite his protests that you have no reason to fuss over him. But you need something – anything – to keep your mind busy. To keep your mind from thinking of–

Him.

Hard plastoid hits your chest as you walk straight into Boil’s back, knocking the wind out of you for a second.

“Sorry,” you mutter under your breath. You bring your hand up to the left side of your sternum and rub what will undoubtedly become a new bruise – as if you didn’t already have enough after the siege.

“You alright, vod’ika?” Boil asks.

But you don’t even register his question. Your eyes lock on a figure you didn’t expect to see here.

Commander Fox – talking to Rex and Cody.

His scarlet armor is glistening in the iridescent light of the hangar and he is standing tall, hands clasped behind his back and shoulders squared. He looks just as imposing and maddeningly confident as you remember. As if nothing happened…

“I wonder what he’s doing here.” Waxer unknowingly voices the question buzzing in your mind.

Well… one of the questions anyway.

“Eh, can’t be anything bad” Boil comments. “No other Corries in sight.”

Their conversation doesn’t quite reach you – it’s like you’re listening to it from underwater. Plus, the sound of your heart thudding loudly in your ears seems to muffle all noise of the busy hangar.

You don’t know what to do.

Should you go over there and say hello? Risk embarrassing yourself – blurting out something idiotic, or worse, admitting you’ve been thinking about him nonstop for six weeks?

Or should you bolt?

He hasn’t seen you yet. You could make a run for it and catch up to Obi-Wan who’s heading toward the shuttle that'll take him back to the Temple. But he’s just given you permission to stay behind after you said you wished to remain with the men a little longer. If you suddenly change your mind he might figure out that something’s wrong.

No… the risk is too high – you don’t trust yourself to properly mask your emotions right now.

Maybe if you stick close to Waxer and Boil until you’re and out of the hanger… then head straight for the infirmary. There’s bound to be more than enough for you to do there. Help the medics. Focus on the walking wounded. Take the minor cases and lose yourself in the work.

Long enough for a certain Commander to return to the Senate where he belongs.

But you don’t get to make a decision.

You glance back toward the three men–

And your stomach lurches.

A shiver jolts through your body. He’s seen you. Fox is looking straight at you.

You’re sure of it. Even through the dark visor of his helmet, you can feel it. Your eyes meet – you know they do.

For a few moments you don’t move. You can’t – it’s as if you're frozen in carbonite.

Then, after what feels like an unreasonably long time of just staring, your brain kicks back into gear and you realise how ridiculous you must look. And how ridiculous this whole situation is. You are a Jedi – a damn good one too – and here you are, freezing like an Alderaanian deer in the headlights at the sight of a man you slept with once. Get it together. You’re supposed to be better than this.

Unfortunately for you, the others can see that something is wrong.

"Are you okay?" Waxer asks. "You look a little out of it."

"Uhh... fine," you manage to croak. You swallow hard, then start walking without another word.

Every step you take feels heavy, like wading through water. Your hesitance is impossible to hide. He's not making it easy either. The only sign of tension is the slight stiffening in his shoulders – barely noticeable, but you catch it. Though you don’t know what it means. He still stands tall, still looks unbothered. Calm. Collected. It makes your stomach twist.

Because a small part of you – a tiny, treacherous part – hopes that maybe, somehow, he’s here for you.

And that scares you. You’re worried that if you let that seed of hope take root in your heart, it’ll just be crushed. You can feel the heartache before it even takes place. Maker, you wish you’d bolted when you had the chance.

Captain Rex notices you approach, and warmly says your name.

“Captain,” you reply with a slight curl of your lips.

It’s a rehearsed smile – the kind that doesn’t quite reach your eyes – but it’s the best you can manage right now. Too bad Cody knows you so well – you really wish he didn’t look at you with such blatant concern written all over his face.

“How’d the siege go after we left?” Rex asks, glancing between you and Cody.

“Believe it or not, we can actually handle a few of droids without the 501st,” you sigh, rolling your eyes with theatrical flair. “Careful, Rex – it sounds like you’re letting Anakin’s overconfidence get to your head.”

“Never,” the Captain chuckles.

Next to him, Fox shifts his weight from one foot to the other. The slight movement catches your attention, and without your permission, your eyes glance his way again.

“Do you know Commander Fox?” Rex asks. “He’s–”

“We’ve met,” Fox cuts in.

His voice hits you like a physical blow. It’s not cold. It’s not bitter. Just…  impersonal, completely devoid of any emotion. No wonder some troopers joke that the Corrie Guard Commander is secretly a droid – he might as well be, speaking and standing so damn rigidly.

 Actually…

You look at him – really look at him. He’s too rigid. His voice is too emotionless. Not at all how you remember him from that night. He’s… different. Apprehensive. Maybe even anxious?

That little seed of hope stirs again in your heart.

“Yes,” you confirm. “We met at the fundraising gala.”

Your voice is lighter now, and the small smile you offer is more genuine. Maybe you’re reading too much into it – analysing the smallest movements – but it seems to have an immediate effect on him. Some of the tension leaves his shoulders and there’s a slight tilt of his helmet your way. Like he’s waiting. Like he’s hoping you’ll say more. Acknowledge that night in some way. You need to think of something quickly.

“The Commander actually saved my shebs,” you blurt out. Heat rushes to your cheeks as both Cody and Rex turn their heads to look at you. Maker, why did you open your mouth? “The Senator of my home planet he… uhh – there were these-these journalists taking photos – and, uhm, anyway I could’ve been in trouble.” You wince. “Still think that was abuse of power though,” the conclusion is accompanied by an awkward laugh.

Your eyes drop to the floor and you bite your lip, cursing your heart for racing and your mouth for spewing out incoherent nonsense. And yet, it worked.

“Brenko lost the election,” Fox says, voice steadier. “The new Senator actually seems decent.”

You glance back into the black of his visor, hoping that your eyes meet – it feels that way anyway. That sounded… more like him.

“Good. I couldn’t stand that fucker,” you chuckle.

A quiet, amused huff crackles out through his voice modulator. He laughed – sort of.

And just like that, that seed of hope is a flower in bloom.

“You were planning his murder if I remember correctly,” Fox says, the edge in his voice softening into something almost cordial – maybe even a little teasing. “Bold of you to admit that to the commander of the Guard.”

Definitely teasing.

“I said I was considering it, not actively planning,” you shoot back, slipping easily into the banter. “Don’t twist my words, Commander. That won’t stand in court.”

Another small huff escapes his lips and you can’t help the bright smile that lights up your face. Fox seems more at ease now – the tension in his shoulders has melted away and he finally releases his hands from behind his back.

“I could probably fabricate some evidence,” Fox continues, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’ve already established I’m not above abuse of power.”

“I knew the Coruscant Guard was corrupted,” you exclaim dramatically.

Next to him, Rex frowns slightly, shooting Fox a quick, confused look. He’s not actually… flirting, is he? The confusion deepens when he glances at Cody – who is glaring at Fox. His jaw is clenched, and the helmet is gripped so tightly, his knuckles must be white under the glove. So Rex isn’t imagining it. Cody sees it too – and he’s clearly not thrilled.

Rex takes half a step back – he’d rather not be standing between the two commanders right now. But the movement startles both you and Fox, breaking the spell. You glance around the hangar, then at Rex, whose eyes flick between his brothers, suspicion written plainly across his face.

You feel it now – the ripple in the Force coming from Cody. Not as furious as that night outside Fox’s office, but still… very much not happy. You swallow hard and risk a glance. Just as you expected, an annoyed grimace darkens his face.

Fox sees it too, and his posture instantly goes back to rigid.

The uncomfortable silence that settles over the four of you is deafening, and as much as you’d like to talk to him for longer, you need to escape the tense atmosphere. You cannot deal with Cody right now, and you can basically see the wheels turning inside Rex’s head – he’ll figure it out if you don’t dissipate the tension soon.

“I uhh…” you start quietly, pausing to clear your throat. “I should head back to the Temple.”

Fox’s helmet dips toward you, then shifts ever so slightly to Cody. His left fist clenches and unclenches by his side a couple of times as he quickly runs a few scenarios through his mind. It can’t end well – he knows it – but he still wants to do it. He wants to be close to you just a little longer.

“I can give you a ride,” Fox offers. “I’ll drop you off before I head back to the Senate.”

Cody inches closer to you, in an unspoken plea for you to decline. But nothing he could do or say right now could stop you. Not when your heart is racing with anticipation and butterflies are fluttering in your stomach. All at the prospect of spending more time with him. Alone.

“Thank you, Commander. That’s… really kind of you,” you reply with a small smile.

Fox stands a bit taller. A warm flicker of pride swells in his chest every time you smile because of him. His eyes linger on you just a moment longer before he turns his head toward his brothers.

“Rex. Cody,” he nods at them before he starts walking.

“Bye guys,” you say as you move to follow. But your steps falter as you make eye contact with your ori’vod. “See you later, Cody?” you add timidly.

Cody exhales hard, shaking his head with a loud, disappointed sigh. “See you later, vod’ika.”

You mouth a silent “sorry” before jogging to catch up with Fox.

Rex’s watches the two of you disappear out of the hangar. “What… was that?”

“Don’t ask,” Cody replies flatly.

The BARC speeder wasn’t designed for two people, so you feel a little cramped sat behind Fox. At first, you try to give him space, gripping the seat's edges instead of him as the two of you leave the military compound, but Fox is having none of that. He lifts the bike up and accelerates sharply, then veers into a higher traffic lane, swerving around a transport like he’s in a podrace. A tiny squeal involuntarily leaves your lips, but you still don’t do what he wants.

“You’ll fall. Hold on to me,” Fox orders over his shoulder.

You don’t immediately comply, so Fox switches traffic lanes even more abruptly. This time, your arms fly around his waist, anchoring you tightly to him so you won’t slip. You hear him make a satisfied grunt and the bike significantly slows.

“Were you flying like a lunatic on purpose just to get me to do that?” you exclaim.

“You were being stubborn,” he deadpans.

“You… you are such an asshole,” you mumble.

A low chuckle comes through the voice modulator. “We’ve already established that, cyar’ika.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks at the Mando’a pet name – you’d forgotten how much you liked it when he called you that. Thank the Maker he can’t see your face; it’s probably the same shade as the paint on his armor.

You tighten your grip around his torso and lean forward, pressing yourself against his back and resting your chin lightly on his shoulder. You look around; Coruscant doesn’t look so bad from up here.

The durasteel buildings gleam under the harsh midday light and the colourful speeders flying around in all directions paint a chaotic picture of life. You close your eyes, enjoying the feel of the cool wind on your heated face. Then you breathe in. Underneath the smell of fuel that is ever-present in the busy traffic of the city, you can make out the clean, familiar scent of GAR-issued soap… with just a hint of bitter caf. His scent.

Fox hears your content sigh and turns his head slightly – but the sunvisor of his helmet makes it impossible to catch even a glimpse of your face. However, he can see ahead, and in the distance, the Jedi Temple already looms, tall and imposing. The end of the line. Another goodbye with no promise of tomorrow. No resolve, no clarity… no reassurances.

You see the Temple too. He can tell by the way you straighten, then let out a deep, defeated breath. You nuzzle into the crook of his neck, like you're trying to get as physically close to him as possible. The hard plastoid must be digging into your skin, but you don’t seem to care. You just want to savour the fleeting moment for as long as you can.

He should be content. This already was more than he’d expected. He didn’t think he’d even get to talk to you, let alone have you so closely pressed against him. This is more than he could’ve hoped for.

But it’s not enough.

A few soft words policed by his brothers’ presence are not enough.

Your arms around him for half the duration of an already short speeder ride are simply not enough.

Fox needs more. He wants more.

And Maker help him – he hopes he’s right to think that you do too.

He veers sharply.

The sudden change of course startles you, and you look up as the speeder bike starts to descend. The Temple fades from view, swallowed by the skyline as the tall buildings rise around you. You’re getting closer and closer to the surface. You can’t pretend you’re not relieved.

“Are you kidnapping me, Commander?” you ask sweetly.

“Yes.”

You chuckle at his curt response, soft and amused, then rest your chin back on his shoulder. You have no idea where he’s taking you and, truthfully, you don’t really care.

Fox steers the speeder deeper into the planet. Sunlight fades, giving way to neon lights and flickering holograms as you enter the lower reaches of the Uscru District. But Fox doesn’t stop. You ride past glowing shopfronts and loud clubs, catching fragments of cheers and bursts of laughter. The nightlife of Coruscant is always awake this deep within the planet.

But he keeps diving lower. The light dims, the streets thin out, and the architecture grows more industrial. You’re somewhere in the mid-levels now – right on the border of what most would consider the lower levels. It’s not a place you’ve ever been before. The streets are rougher, more dilapidated – the kind you wouldn’t walk alone, even as a Jedi. But you’re not scared. You feel completely safe.

Because you’re with him.

The speeder glides to a stop on a narrow street in front of what looks like a warehouse. Fox dismounts and offers his hand to help you up. You accept, timidly curling your fingers around his. There’s no fireworks at the touch – just warmth and grounding steadiness. The kind that melt your insecurities away and encourages you to be at ease in his presence.

He doesn't let go once your feet are on the ground. Instead, he keeps your hand in his, tracing the back of your palm with his thumb. You take a breath in and step closer, looking up into the dark visor of his helmet. You wish he would take it off already.

Fox gently squeezes your hand, then let's go, his gloved fingers settling on the small of your back, applying tender pressure.

“This way.”

“You know, regular people go to a caf shop on their first date, not to dodgy industrial areas in the lower-levels,” you say half-teasingly.

Fox freezes for a second – is this a date?

He clears his throat. “We’re in the mid-levels. And uh… I’m not a regular person.”

You glance down at the floor and bite the inside of your cheek to temper your grin. He didn’t argue with the ‘first date’ part.

Fox guides you to the entrance of the warehouse, pulling his hand away from your back in order to pry open the control panel and start messing with the wires.

You chuckle at the sight. “Are we allowed to be here?”

“Abuse of power, remember?” he shoots back. You let out a soft laugh that makes his chest tingle.

The door half-opens with a mechanical hiss, just wide enough for a person to slide past. You glance at it, then at Fox, who gestures for you to step inside.

The lights begin to turn on one by one once you’re past the threshold and activate the motion sensor. You take a couple steps in–

Then you stop, eyes wide.

The room is large; you count at least two dozen support pillars lined in two parallel rows. But the size is not what captures your attention.

There’s grass on the ground. Actual grass – wild and unkept. The ceiling panels show images of blue skies and clouds – scattered with dark patches of faulty screens that keep glitching. There are large planters with purple-leaf bushes and even a couple of trees – you recognise the species as one native to Chandrila, although they’ve definitely seen better days. In the centre there’s a shallow dip in the floor – you can only assume it’s meant to hold a pond.

You’re speechless. You did not expect to encounter a corner of nature this deep in the heart of Coruscant.

“It was supposed to be a community garden,” Fox answers your unspoken question, coming to stand by your side. “There was an issue; something about permits, funding – whatever. Got tied up in red tape, so it’s been sitting like this ever since.”

“It’s beautiful,” you breathe.

“I thought you’d like it,” Fox quietly mutters.

The small comment wasn’t meant to reach your ears – but it does. You look up at him and find his helmet tilted your way. He’s clearly startled that you caught him. Fox clears his throat and abruptly looks away, then with a couple hurried strides he’s by the side of one of the duracrete pillars.

“There used to be bird songs too,” he says, pointing to the speakers mounted at the top of each pillar. “The sound system broke a while ago.”

“So you’ve been coming here for a while then?” you ask, slowly walking until you’re leaning against the pillar, facing him.

“Yeah,” Fox admits with a long sigh. “It’s a good place to clear your head.”

“And you come here a lot? As in…” you continue sweetly, “if I wanted to accidently run into you, would this be a good place you try?”

Fox turns to face you better, crossing his arms over his chest. “If you want to run into me cyar’ika, you could just use that frequency you asked Cody for and comm me.”

You straighten from the pillar, feeling your stomach drop and chest fill with embarrassed panic. “Y-You know about that?”

“I do.”

The garden suddenly feels too hot. You stare into the dark visor and swallow hard, even though your throat feels as dry as Tatooine.

“Oh…”

Your gaze drops, idly fixating on your boots. Silence settles around you, broken only by the low hum of the overhead lights and Fox’s breathing, filtered out through the voice modulator. But then – a hiss cuts through the air. You lift your eyes and watch as Fox finally pulls his helmet off.

He looks just as gorgeous as you remember – and just as tired. The bags under his eyes are still there – an ever-present part of him – but now there’s also a thin layer of stubble all across his jaw. His silver-streaked hair seems a bit longer as well. His duties must’ve kept him busier lately.

And, Maker, those whiskey-coloured eyes… your knees feel weak just at their sight. You could easily get lost in their amber hue. But the way he’s looking at you? It takes your breath away. There’s a longing in his gaze, a quiet hunger. And underneath all that, a softness you hope he holds just for you.

The corners of his lips lift into a small smirk and Fox cocks his head to the side. “You’re staring.”

“Maybe I missed your face,” you say in a kittenish voice.

“You've been surrounded by my face,” he snorts.

 “No” – you shake your head – “not by yours.”

Fox studies your expression, his eyes lingering on your lips for a brief moment. Then he inches closer, voice dropping low as he utters the question that’s been tormenting him for weeks. “Then why didn’t you comm?”

The question is not accusatory. It’s not angry or disdainful. It’s raw, vulnerable – more vulnerable than Fox ever allows himself to be with anyone else. There’s a gentleness in his voice that stirs something in your chest.

“I…” you start, words eluding you at first, “I was worried you didn’t really want me to.”

Fox reaches his left hand and tenderly cradles your cheek. “I did, mesh’la.”

And then his lips are on yours.

It takes a second for your brain to catch up with what’s going on, and by then, your hands are already grasping his chestplate, fingers hooked at the base of his neck. Fox moves his lips against yours in a slow, deliberate pace, taking the time to reacquaint himself with your sweet taste. Your eyes flutter closed, melting at the way his thumb delicately strokes your cheek.

You shift a hand, lazily sliding it around his neck, until your fingers tangle in the hair at the base of his skull. It’s soft – softer than you remembered – and just long enough now to start curling at the tips. Maker, you’ve missed him; and from the way he’s kissing you, it seems like he’s missed you too.

When you tentatively slip your tongue past the seam of his lips, something in Fox snaps.

There’s a faint thud as his helmet slips from his grasp, landing in the grass by his feet – but he pays it no mind. His right hand comes to tightly grip your hip, pulling you flush against him, as his body presses you firmly into the pillar. The hand that was cradling your cheek slams against the duracrete just above your head, caging you in.

The kiss deepens, turns hungrier. His tongue enters your mouth, sliding around yours in a desperate dance of needy intimacy. It’s so soft, and there's that taste of caf again, dark and earthy. Him. Oh how you missed the taste of him.

You match the frantic movements, your heart racing in your chest. It feels so good that you can’t stop the whimper that sounds from the back of your throat.

 Fox breaks the kiss and pulls back, taking a moment to admire your heated cheeks and slightly swollen lips. A self-satisfied smile tugs at the corners of mouth.

“Am I moving too fast?” The question is half-genuine, half-laced with teasing.

“N-No,” you answer. You’re breathless, panting for air, but Maker, you do not want to stop.

“Good.” Fox leans back in. “Normally I’d be more patient,” – he moves his lips along your jaw, then start trailing down your neck – “but you made me wait, cyar’ika,” he murmurs into your skin. “I don’t like waiting.”

You gasp when you feel his teeth sink into the base of your neck. Fox chuckles, a low and dangerous sound that travels straight to your core, causing tingles of anticipation to shoot through your body.

Then his hands move, quickly travelling to your chest and sliding your overtunic aside as much as possible. His mouth returns to yours as his left hand cups your breast through the fabric of the undertunic. But his right hand trails lower and lower.

“We're technically in public,” you break the kiss to whisper against his lips, as if anyone could hear you in this desolate garden.

“We are.” His hand doesn’t stop, and it finally reaches the waistband of your trousers, fingers toying with the button. “If you want me to stop just say so.”

Your ragged breathing is the only sound you hear as you meet his gaze. His pupils are blown with lust and desire – and you know yours must be too. You want everything he has to give, and you want to give him everything you have in return.

“I... I don't. Don't stop, Fox. Never stop,” you pretty much whine.

“That's what I thought,” he leans in to rasp in your ear.

Fox unbuttons your trousers and slips his hand between your thighs. His fingers graze over the fabric of your underwear, moving back and forth in a slow, maddening pace. Your breath catches lightly every time they slide over your clit and without thinking, you start grinding into his hand, trying to build up that delicious pressure. His eyes are studying every shift in your facial expression, every crease of your brows and parting of your lips. But just as you think he’s about to slip his fingers underneath the thin fabric – he abruptly pulls his hand away.

“No! Why–” you start, your eyes snapping to meet his.

But you don’t finish your complaint.

Fox lifts his hand to his mouth, gaze locked on yours, and pulls off his glove with his teeth. The motion is fluid, controlled – intimate in a way that punches the air from your lungs. You swear your brain short-circuits. That was the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

You gasp when he swiftly returns it to your core, this time slipping it underneath all layers of fabric. His fingers glide through your folds, gathering your arousal before gently circling your clit. He repeats the motion, slowly dragging his fingers from your apex all the way to the edge of your entrance and back, but every time he reaches your sweet spot, his touch turns so featherlike, you can barely feel it.

Fox crashes his lips back into yours to keep you from objecting to his teasing. The kiss is deep and hungry, but you can feel the way he’s smirking against your lips. He’s very much enjoying the small vexed whimpers you’re making and the way you try to grind down on his hand. His codpiece feels uncomfortably tight, but he is determined to see you fall apart on his fingers before he does anything else.

“Fox…” you whine, breaking the kiss. “Please.”

“Please what, mesh’la?” he asks.

“Please stop teasing.”

“You want me to stop teasing?” he repeats between the kisses he’s planting along your jaw.

You respond with a nod, unable to form any words as you feel his fingers glide closer to your entrance. He pulls back to look at you, eyes darkening.

“I’ll stop teasing.”

And with that he pushes two fingers inside.

Your sharp gasp turns into a moan as Fox sets a rapid pace. His fingers pump in and out, curling just right along your walls. You can’t help the way your nails dig into the back of his neck, while your other hand is still holding on for dear life to the rim of his cuirass. His lips frantically return to yours, kissing you with a speed that matches the motion of his fingers. Then he trails his mouth lower, licking and nipping at the column of your neck. Your head falls back against the duracrete of the pillar, eyes fluttering closed.

“Don’t stop,” you beg.

The pressure is building, Fox can feel your muscles tense, clenching his fingers tightly. He keeps up the speed and brings his thumb to brush against your clit. Your eyes snap open, meeting his burning gaze. The determined look alone is almost enough to make you come. He’s not just trying to pleasure you. He wants to ruin you in the best possible way. To remind you exactly how good he can make you feel.

With just a few more thrusts of his fingers, Fox gets his wish. You squeeze your eyes shut as the pressure releases, and cry out his name. Pleasure spreads like electricity all over your body, surging through your veins in warm, rapid pulses. Fox doesn’t slow the relentless drag of his fingers until he feels your walls relax.

You’re panting heavily and your knees feel weak, like they might melt away at any second. But before you can even catch your breath, the world spins – and you find your front pressed against the cold duracrete pillar. Fox is right behind you, his body molding to yours, the hard edges of his plastoid armor biting into your back. Not that you mind – the pain quickly reignites the desire in your core.

His hands roam your sides, greedy and unrelenting, before one of them slides up to grope your breast. His mouth returns to your neck, the kisses now desperate. You can feel how worked up he is by the intensity of his movements. A hiss escapes your lips as he gets carried away and sucks on your neck a little too hard.

“Sorry,” he whispers, soothing the sting with the slow drag of his tongue.

“I don’t mind,” you breathe. “But I wouldn’t make them too visible if I were you. You’re the one in trouble if Cody sees them.”

Fox grunts. “Let’s not bring him up right now.”

Your giggle is cut short by Fox suddenly yanking your trousers and underwear down in one fluid motion, exposing your bare ass to the chilly air. There’s another small thud as something hits the ground, but before you can identify the sound, his hard length presses against your inner thigh. You arch back, encouraging him to slide through your folds and coat himself with your arousal.

“Kriff,” he mutters under his breath, hands tightly gripping your hips.

The tip of his cock catches at your entrance and your entire body tingles with anticipation. Then, without waiting any longer, he sinks in, accompanied by an incoherent Mando’a curse falling from his lips. You press your forehead to the cool duracrete as you adjust to the sting of the stretch, taking a couple of breaths. Fox pauses, buried to the hilt inside of you.

“Are you ready for me to move?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you nod. “Just start slow please.”

Fox leans in and plants a gentle kiss on your cheekbone. “Alright, mesh’la.”

He begins to move, rolling his hips slowly and listening to every small whimper that leaves your lips. The painful sting soon gives way to pleasure and you start pushing back to meet his thrusts, letting him know he can move faster. Fox groans and buries his face in your hair, inhaling deeply. He can’t tell whether it’s perfume or shampoo, but whatever it is, it’s intoxicating – and his new favourite scent. His grip on your hips turns vice-like.

You reach your arm back, curling it around his neck, and you tilt your head against his shoulder in a silent invitation. Fox immediately complies, crashing his lips to yours in a messy, uncoordinated kiss. His hips pick up speed, and his armored chest slams against your back with every unforgiving thrust, knocking the air out of your lungs. You almost laugh – he’s quite literally taking your breath away. You squirm, trying to make room for your ribs to expand, and he notices. Shifting slightly off you, he braces one forearm against the pillar and leans to the side. The new angle is exquisite for the both of you.

“You feel so good,” Fox mumbles in your ear. “So… so tight. So good.”

You moan his name as a response, your vision starting to blur around the edges. The tip of his cock is hitting that spot inside of you perfectly and you can already feel your second orgasm approaching. He is not too far behind. More incoherent mumbles fall from his lips as Fox gets lost in chasing his pleasure. At one point you think he says “ner mesh’la Jetti,” and your heart skips a beat.

You probably misheard. But the thought alone? The thought of being his? It’s enough to push you over the edge.

Your fingers tangle into his hair, pulling firmly at the strands, and you arch back into him. He groans, but you can barely hear it over the loud moans that leave your lips as the climax ripples through you. Fox keeps the rhythm steady as you ride out your high, not changing a thing until he feels you melt into his grasp. Then his hips pick up speed, the thrusts turning harsh, unforgiving, frantic, as his low grunts fill the air around you. He slams into you a couple more times before going rigid, his cock the only thing still twitching inside your walls, filling you with his warm release.

His head falls on your shoulder and his ragged breath feels hot on your skin. The hand on your hip wraps around you, holding you tightly against him. You bring your own to his, interlacing your fingers together as you simply stay there and breathe. The moment stretches on in comfortable silence and you savour every second of it. His armor is still digging into your skin – there will definitely be some bruises tomorrow – but you can’t bring yourself to break the spell. Not when his other arm wraps around your chest. Not when he’s holding onto you like you’re a rare sunny day, shining after weeks of cold, unrelenting rain. Not when you can feel how much he needs the closeness – how much he needs you.

But your body betrays you – the chilly air of the abandoned garden makes you shiver. Fox notices immediately and slowly slides out of you, tucks himself back in with two quick motions, then helps pull your trousers up.

“Thanks,” you say as you turn to face him.

The sight that greets you is one you want to carve into your brain. There’s a soft smile frozen on his lips and his eyes are bright, pupils still a little blown. A thin layer of sweat glistens on his forehead and the hair you ruffled during the act looks wild and messy. But the most striking thing is that he looks so young, so relaxed. It won’t last long – you both know it – but just for a moment the two of you and this garden are the only real thigs in the galaxy.

You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of seeing him like this.

Without thinking, you reach your hand to smooth down his hair. Fox closes his eyes, a small hum slipping from him on the next exhale. It’s such a small, natural gesture, yet it fills his chest with a warmth he’s almost afraid to name. He opens his eyes and finds you watching him, your gaze soft in a way that stirs something deep inside. But there’s something else behind your eyes – something he can’t decipher.

“You okay?” he asks gently.

“Better than okay,” you chuckle. “That was amazing. Ten out of ten.”

“Maker,” Fox groans. “That joke was terrible then, and it’s still terrible now.”

“Too bad,” you grin, a little smug. “I’ll make it after every time.”

His brain short-circuits for a second. Every time. That implies a next time. A next time he’ll get to have you in his arms, to hear you moan his name. ‘Every time’ implies a future he’s never allowed himself to dream of. But now? Now that it’s standing in front of him, wearing your smile, he wants it more than anything.

He recovers fast, and arches a brow as he steps closer.

“Every time? So we’re doing this again?” he teases.

Heat rushes to your cheeks. “W-Well, I do-I’d like to” you stammer. “If you want to of course, I can’t demand-I-I’m not assuming you want to because it-it is against the rules and–”

Fox silences you with a kiss. Searing, but slow. Passionate, but careful. His tongue moves around yours in measured, deliberate motions, fully demanding your attention. It tastes dangerously close to a promise.

When he pulls away, you feel weightless, and can’t stop the bright smile that spreads across your face.

He plants another small kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Come on. I need to actually deliver you to the Temple before they send out a search party.”

You roll your eyes, trying not to show your disappointment. You knew you couldn’t stay here forever – but that doesn’t mean leaving won’t sting.

Fox reattaches the codpiece and picks his helmet up, then frowns as he looks around.

“Where the hell is that glove?” he mutters.

You both look around the pillar, but it’s like it vanished into thin air. After a few minutes of sifting through the tall grass, Fox gives up with a resigned sigh – he’ll just get a new one – and the two of you leave the garden behind.

The ride back flies by in comfortable silence. You hold onto him tightly, smiling the entire time. He doesn’t go to the hangar; instead, Fox pull up on a street close to the Temple entrance, but just out of sight from any Jedi that might walk past.

“Thank you, Commander,” you purr, sliding off the speeder. “It was so kind of you to give me a ride.”

You can’t see his face under the helmet but you can just about imagine his unamused expression – and the slight shake of his head confirms it.

But before you can leave, he catches your wrist.

“Don’t make me kidnap you again,” he says, his voice a low growl.

“You say that like it wasn’t the best kidnapping I’ve ever had,” you laugh.

“I mean it, mesh’la,” Fox continues. “Actually comm me this time. I… I want to see you again.”

There’s a slight anxious edge to his voice, one that immediately sends butterflies to your stomach. He wants to see you again. Whatever this is blooming between the two of you, he feels it too, you’re certain now. You gaze into his visor, briefly wondering if he can feel the racing pulse in your wrist.

“I will. I promise.”

His hand lingers a little longer, thumb gently stroking your skin.

“Good.” He lets go.

Then he’s off, revving the engine of the speeder twice before disappearing into the Coruscant traffic.

You walk away, still feeling the warmth of his fingers on your skin. You’re already planning the comm you’ll send tomorrow.

A/n: if anyone is wondering what happened to the glove, a rat took it. Give me a shout and i'll write the rat's pov too