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The rain on Coruscant may be artificial, but the way it seems to guide you feels as natural as the force as it brings you to a chance meeting that quickly develops into something wild and unwise.
WC: 5390 - Read on Ao3 - Read on Reddit
Content Warning: A Little morbid, depictions of grotesque art and descriptions of dead bodies, smoking, sex in a morgue, unprotected PiV, biting, over-the-clothes, clothes-on sex, casual sex, rough sex.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Chapter 1:
You cursed as the downpour started. The artificial rain coming down on you in a torrent. You must've missed the notice, and it explained why the streets were so empty.
Your heels made wet little splashes as you rushed for sanctuary signified by a blinking neon sign. It read “caf” with a simple cup, the steam rising in glowing alternation inside twisted glass.
The door chimed an electric bell as you ducked into the dingy establishment, leaving a small puddle by the door as you brushed your wet hair out of your eyes. The place was nearly empty, the dark colors soothing despite the stale smell of death sticks in the air.
You sat at the small bar and signaled for the barista who took your order for a cold brewed caf.
While you waited, you pulled out your data pad… no new messages.
You sighed, apparently forgotten.
“Bad news?”
You jumped at the low rumble next to you. The voice came from a figure clad in a dark coat. He was bent over the bar, arms defensively cradling his own cup of steaming caf. You couldn't see much of his face, but the dark olive skin was marred with a patchwork of light scars. The hair falling over his forehead was streaked with a generous amount of gray.
“More like no news,”
You muttered, putting the data pad back in your bag.
“No news is good news in my world,”
“I'm sure…”
You were eyeing your new conversational partner, his intense eyes now looking at you over his folded arm. The chiseled silhouette held familiar features, though he wore them in a haggard kind of way.
Clone.
Any problems you had of course would dwindle in comparison to one of these men… their short brutal lives. You didn't see many of their kind in this part of town despite your close proximity to the Senate and Garrison structures.
Your cup of caf arrived, the ice sloshing as the barista gave it a flourishing swirl before setting it in front of you. Thanking him, you waited till he was a comfortable distance down the bar before drawing a mouthful through the straw.
You winced, smacking your lips in obvious disappointment. They had let the carafe go stale.
The clone chuckled at your displeased expression, a low and dangerous sound.
“You should try mine,”
He slid the porcelain cup closer to you with what seemed like an air of playfulness.
You were suddenly very aware of how cold you were, the steaming cup looking very inviting and making you regret your choice of a cold beverage. You flicked your eyes to the man's golden brown ones, there was no hint of malice but that didn't mean there was no cause for suspicion. You had seen him drinking from the mug himself though…
Ah, Kark it. If it's drugged it's drugged.
You pulled the hot cup closer, tentatively taking a sip-
And winced again. The swill was burnt and acrid.
“Oh this place is just bad at making caf, isn't it?”
He laughed, a short barking sound, that complimented the gravelly rumble of his voice.
“It might be, but it's still better than the stuff in the office,”
“That's a tragedy, I make much better at home,”
He laughed again, amusement dancing in his eyes. They were the usual shape and color for a clone, but they shone brightly in the moment, catching the light so that the soft reds and golds of the cafe lighting made them glow.
“To rain and caf snobbery,”
He tilted the mug towards you before downing a swig. You took another gulp of your chilled drink, pursing your lips at the stale taste.
The noise lifted as the scheduled downpour eased up. You glanced back at the man, and thought about your silent data pad. A wild and unwise idea lit through you.
“You know, mister… uh…”
You looked over at him questioningly.
“Fox. Commander Fox,”
He offered his hand and you shook it,
“Charmed… you know, Commander, my place is nearby if you'd like to try something actually consumable,”
He arched an eyebrow, picking up his mug and downing the rest of the awful caf. The cup hit the counter with a over eager clink and he stood, gesturing with an extended arm,
“After you,”
You allowed him to guide you to the door, his hand at the small of your back warm as you stepped out onto the cold street. Though the rain had stopped, it was still windy and his long dark coat snapped around you as you turned towards your apartment.
“What brings you down this way, Commander?”
“I like the cafes down here… no one tries to find me to put out fires, I get to take an actual breather,”
He reached into his coat, pulling out a crumpled death stick carton. Tapping it on his thigh, he bit at the protruding end before looking down at you with it hanging lazily between his lips.
“You mind?”
“Not at all…Are you on a break now?”
A little disappointment flitted through you, thinking the handsome man accompanying you might have to leave your company soon.
A small spark lit his features for a moment as he lit his vice, taking a long draw before releasing the smoke. A strong arm wrapped about your hips.
“No, I'm off for the night, even more reason to be in hiding,”
He smirked conspiratorially at you, offering the lit stick. Fox held it steady as you drew the smoke into your lungs. He seemed pleased with that and you leaned into him as you led him through the streets to the building your flat was located in. That flicker of disappointment stirred into a flutter through your chest. You looked at the profile of his face again out of the corner of your eye, lit as it was by the burning embers.
There was a prominent scar across his nose, a slight crook to it where it may have broken at some point. His chin was slightly more narrow than the clones on the propaganda posters. He flashed a smile at you, aware of your attention, giving you a glimpse of his canines- unusually prominent. You stifled a shiver as the warm glow of the light over your building's door settled over you. He crushed the spent butt beneath his boot heel as you made your way inside.
The main floor of your apartment building was brighter than the cafe had been, and you suddenly became overly aware of your wet clothes clinging to you. The simple dress shirt stuck to your curves, leaving little to the imagination, the cold making your nip-
You tugged your jacket closed hurriedly.
The doorman caught your eye as he took in your odd surprise guest. He narrowed his expression and you nodded at him so that he relaxed and settled back into his chair…but flashed the hand signal to call him if there was trouble. The concern warmed you a little as you made your way to the lift.
The reality of the situation suddenly dawned on you as the doors slid shut and you found yourself alone with the commander. He was a complete stranger… you watched him out of the corner of your eye as the lift took you higher; chiming as it reached your floor.
The way his footfalls chased your heels brought an unbidden, nightmarish image of a scared child fleeing from the snapping jaws of a ghoul. You shook away the shadowy memory, the feeling of being hunted. Or at least you tried.
He was also watching you, an almost somber look of curiosity in his furrowed brow. It relaxed you a little, your pace down the hall became more sure. Not that he felt safe, quite the contrary… but you found you lacked fear for whatever danger he represented. Whatever trouble this was, you wanted it… were craving it.
The heat of him felt intense through your wet clothes as he drew near while you tapped in the code to your door. His breath felt too close, the way it stirred the few dry strands of hair at your neck.
Then you were inside.
You kicked off your heels, swiping your hand up the wall panel to make the recessed lighting warm the room with soft light.
Fox looked around at the dark colors of the flat, the dim, strategic lighting, the art spotlighted on the walls. He gave a small nod of approval. You could tell he was impressed and pride swelled in your chest, and a little giddy feeling, betraying your attraction to the man.
“What do you do to afford a place like this?”
“It was part of my family's holdings, I’ve only moved in permanently since liquidating their estate.”
He raised a brow at that spurning you to add,
“They died,”
“Oh… I'm sorry,”
You shrugged your shoulders,
“I'm okay, honestly I don't think I was affected by it as much as I should've been… we weren't close.”
You took off your coat, draping it over the back of a chair.
“If you don't mind, I need to change into something dry… then I'll get us that caf”
You turned to your bedroom, catching a soft mutter as you left,
“I mind a little…”
You smiled softly to yourself.
~~~
When you reemerged to the living space, you found him under one of the lit paintings, the one centered to the space. It was tall, the gold frame almost reaching the high ceiling.
He had removed his jacket as well revealing a dark red long sleeve that hugged his broad shoulders in a very pleasing way, highlighting his slimmer hips where it was tucked into the waist and of his dark denim pants. The scarlet coloring stood in contrast to the black leather gloves that gripped the back of the sofa he leaned against as he looked up at the artwork.
“It's called, Grief of the Forceless,”
He turned, eyes flicking over the new black dress you had slipped into. The tight cut, flowing fabric shimmered like ink around your knees as you walked. You glided to his side to look up at the twisted imagery.
The painting was a macab depiction of piled bodies, surreal, exaggerated- racked in obvious pain under a giant foreboding hand reaching over the horizon. It was all splashes of red, white lightning and burnt ashes.
Fox nodded to himself idly.
“I like it,”
Your lips quirked as you shared a glance with him, bemused but heavy with the question of, “what now?”
“How bout that caf?”
“Please… I'm dying to learn what a good cup of caf is like,”
The amused tone made you feel like he was teasing you, but it was hard to tell. Perhaps you simply didn't mind.
You padded over to the bar, and turned the nozzle on a line.
“Hot?”
He nodded, now becoming engrossed with the bookshelves in the adjacent dining room. The paperbacks were expensive antiques.
You pulled the handle, cold, rich colored liquid siphoning from a sealed canister in a fridge below the bar into the carefully poised mug. You watched him out of the corner of your eye as you lowered the steam wand into the cool drink.
“Am I noticing a pattern here?”
Fox questioned, withdrawing a paper back, turning it to read the cover, then scanning through the list of digital titles.
The caf in the mug started to froth. You made another cup for yourself and carried them to the dining room, offering one to the commander.
“They’re all murder mysteries, can't get enough of them,”
“You like rather dark things, don't you?”
“Mysteries aren't that dark, Commander. They exist in a world we're no matter how clever or creative a killer is, they're always outsmarted by someone with just a little more wit and righteousness,”
He ran a finger down another book spine, nodding as he read the title,
“I suppose real life is much darker…”
“Much. Killers are rarely caught, murders go unsolved…”
“Hey now, I'm doing the best I can,”
He chuckled and you paused,
“You're with the Corries?”
You had had your suspicions but his nod confirmed them. He turned to you,
“Who were your parents? How'd they die?”
“It doesn't matter,”
“Humor me,”
“Their ship blew up on the dock, it took out the valets as well… no one was able to tell me if it was an accident or an assassination,”
“Would someone want to take out your family,”
“My father had his enemies, my mother too- though those wars were usually petty social affairs,”
He sighed,
“Sounds pretty standard,”
He took a swig from the cup you handed him, eyes widening in what you recognized as uncharacteristic delight.
“That is good, it's so smooth,”
You smirked, pleased with yourself as you added some sweetener to your own mug from the container on the table.
“Told you,”
He took another long sip from the mug, eyes on you as you leaned back against the table, facing him.
The commander seemed to freeze a moment, a decision clicking into place behind his features. He moved to lean beside you, as if the morbid discussion before had awoken a sense of familiar solidarity in him stoked into something comfortable by the smooth caf.
“So, tell me… why'd you bring me back to your place? You that proud of your brewing skills?”
His hand landed on the table next to yours, allowing him to lean into your ear as he spoke.
“Hmm, maybe I was feeling a little reckless… and you were handsome enough to take a risk,”
“Risk? I'm the one alone in a stranger's home, how do I know you didn't spike the caf?”
His tone carried that gruff playfulness you were becoming accustomed to as his breath danced over the nape of your neck.
“Mm, despite my interests I'm harmless, never even seen a dead body before- don't think I could handle making one,”
“Not even your parents?”
“There were no bodies to recover,”
…
“You want to?”
“Make a dead body?”
A puff of air against your neck as he silently laughed,
“See one… I can take you to HQ, I have one on hand, if it suits your… interests”
You hadn't really planned on leaving the flat, might've even been planning on convincing your new friend to stay the night,
“Wouldn't you rather stay here? Where we can get to know each other better… in private?”
His fingers moved, lightly brushing up your forearm.
“What's more intimate than looking into the face of death together?”
The offer was deranged, but the peevish look in his eyes, the smell of caf on his breath, it was tempting. You rose your eyebrow, surprised at yourself as you proceeded,
“Let me get my coat.”
“We'd better hurry,”
His voice followed you to where your jacket and heels were discarded, grabbing his own long coat from the back of the couch.
“It sounds like they plan on hitting us with another downpour soon”
His words were punctuated by a sudden roll of thunder from above.
~~~
He snuck you into the federal precinct through a service door after an oddly giddy jaunt through the dark, wet streets. Laughing as the rain started falling on the two of you, a lightning strike lighting your way. His hand was clasped firmly around yours, leading you with eagerness in every splashing step.
The halls of the place were garishly bright, but mostly empty for the night.
“The morgue is this way,”
He whispered, flashing you a grin, another glimpse of fang. His hand was still holding yours, pulling you along through the halls and it was making your heart race. The whole affair spoke of youthful mischief, sneaking into where you weren't supposed to be.
As the two of you turned a corner, you ran into a clone decked in red armor, wings painted on the side of the scarlet helmet.
“Fox? What are-”
The modulated voice cut short as the visor dipped over your form in its slinky dress. A growl of warning from the commander holding your hand and the soldier abruptly turned on a heel and hurried off in the opposite direction.
“Bring girls here often, Commander?”
“No, even more reason for him to leave me be,”
He led you to the end of the corridor, a marked door that he unlocked with a hurriedly typed code before ushering you inside.
The lights flicked on revealing a small, plain hallway of a room. The back wall was metallic, patterned with round latched doors spaced at even intervals. You heard the door click as Fox set a manual lock. No one would disturb you and a wave of nerves flipped through your stomach. It was one thing to be alone with the man in your flat, here was a different matter and for a moment you spared a thought as to what the kark was wrong with you.
His hands softly gripped your shoulders through your jacket as he whispered into your ear,
“You ready? Can always back out now… if you're scared.”
Scared wasn't the word for it, and you had no interest in showing him your lack of resolve.
“I'm fine… you sure this is okay though?”
“It's not… you shouldn't be anywhere near this place.”
He was pacing the short distance to the wall of doors. Cold lockers you now assumed. Him popping one of the latches with a loud “cachunk” as the door swished aside confirmed your thoughts. With a swift motion he reached into the cubby and pulled the drawer out.
The metal shelf held a plasticine bag, translucent enough that you could make out the palid color of the flesh inside. He raised his brow at you as he reached for the zipper, almost as if he dared you to ask him to stop.
As the bag came undone, you looked down at the face of the man inside. The look of death obvious in his sunken cheeks, the skin of his face and neck still bruised from whatever assault had killed him.
“Who is he?”
“Just some low life thug… killed three of my men during a spice sting,
Karked up thing is… my brothers were incinerated as soon as their bodies were collected. Meanwhile this shyte stain stays in our protective custody until we can confirm a next of kin.
You know, to preserve his dignity.”
His monologue was low with anger, the contempt obvious on his features as he looked down at the dead man. His disquiet was obvious, as if this man had been plaguing his thoughts since before you entered the caf shop. He had gone tense and silent, a darkness in his gaze. You had to wonder,
“Why did you want to show me this?”
Fox blinked, and looked up at you, suddenly looking a little lost.
“I don't know… I suppose I felt… I suppose I wanted you to see something from my world, to understand,”
He suddenly pushed the drawer shut again, slamming the door with a sharp snap that made you jump.
“It seemed like you might…”
You wanted to say that you did, but you weren't entirely sure. Despite your own recent grief, how could you say you really knew what it meant to lose people so frequently, so… inconsequentially.
Your feet seemed to move on their own as you approached the grim man with his back to you. You wrapped your arms around his waist, laying your head against his shoulder making his tight grip on the edge of the door slacken slightly in surprise.
“It's all so fleeting, isn't it?”
You whispered against his coat, still damp from the rain.
He turned in your grasp, wrapping his arms around your back as he came to face you, bringing his lips to yours.
You could still taste the caf on him, the slight bite of smoke as he kissed you. There was desperation in the sudden action, looking for comfort in your embrace. His breath came sharp through his nose as his mouth moved on yours, sliding his tongue between your lips as the kiss became rough, frantic.
You allowed him to move you, his hands guiding your hips to turn. A click and a swish as one of the other empty compartments was opened. He lifted you to sit on the cold, sterile metal of the drawer as he locked it in place.
His narrow hips wedged between your knees as his hands came up to cup you cheeks, sharp teeth catching your lip, tugging at it before kissing you again and again.
As he drew back, eyes searching for yours, you both jumped- startled by a sudden vibration humming from your purse.
The com link inside had finally started ringing.
You looked down at the bag, reaching for it instinctively, pausing when a heavy weight rested against your shoulder. Fox’s brow was against you, his words caressing your neck,
“Don't answer it,”
You didn't say anything, just breathed as the com buzzed.
“Don't, just stay here…stay with me here,”
The rasp of his voice broke your heart. He sounded so tired…
You let the bag fall from your shoulder with a dull clink on the metal drawer before wrapping your arms about his neck. Reassured, his lips pressed to your pulse point, teeth dragging down the length of your neck to your shoulder and back again. The contact felt like electricity as you finally let yourself go, giving yourself to the fleeting moment.
“Fox…”
He groaned softly against your skin before moving back to your lips, pressing against them hard. You felt his coat slip from his shoulders. He swung it behind you, spreading it over the cold metal surface.
“Aren't you the gentleman…”
You breathed against his cheek,
“I'm no gentleman, meshla,”
His tongue dove into your mouth and you moaned around it, heat flooding your core as his posture became domineering.
Not breaking the kiss, he dipped to lift you, laying you back on his jacket while he leaned over you. It was easy for him to run his hands over you like this, the leather of his gloves smooth as they squeezed your breasts through your dress.
His motions became sharp; His hand snapping behind your neck to lift you, the other pulling your coat off and tossing it aside. You cringed in the sudden cold of the room, a problem quickly remedied as he hopped onto the drawer in a fluid motion. Fox's trim bulk pressed down on you, hot through his clothing.
With a needy growl his teeth were at your neck again nipping the soft flesh under your jaw, sucking hard enough to mark you and force your breath to hiss, your gasp sharp. The pain was exquisite, and you reached up to lace your fingers in his greying locks, pulling on them to keep his fangs on you.
Fox's hands kept wandering, down your side, along your thigh. He pushed your knees to the side, making room for his hips to wedge between your legs. The denim of his pants was rough against the soft skin as he ground his pelvis against you.
You gasped, pulling back slightly as the feel of him, hard through the fabric.
“Wait!”
He froze. You only managed another deep breath before he pressed his mouth to yours again, softer than before, carefully,
“You wanted me to have my way with you the second you invited me to your flat… why doubt yourself now?”
You felt your sex clench at his words. He was right of course, you wanted him; The evidence began to pool in your panties as he nuzzled into your neck.
“Give me this… I won't let you regret it,”
He punctuated his request by rubbing the hardened bulge in his jeans against your groin drawing an undignified moan from your lips.
You nodded, a little incoherently, pressing your cheek to his.
“Take me Fox,”
He smiled against your throat, sucking your skin between his teeth with a groan. Your wrists were gathered and held above your head; pinning you there with his left hand, the right slid back down your body. You gasped as his fingers brushed between your legs through your silky dress.
He used two fingers to slowly rub you through the fabric. A languid pace, up and down, slow and firm making you whimper and squirm beneath him. As the tips brushed and circled your clit you jerked, crying out from the sudden pleasure and wincing as your head thunked against the hard surface.
“That won't do…”
He growled, sitting up abruptly to tug his long sleeve off, tucking it behind your head. The shirt had barely hid his toned visage but you couldn't help but drink him in as he leaned over you bare. Your hands now free, you reached out for him, running your hands down his chest; feeling the taught muscle, the smooth dips of blaster scars, the jagged raised bumps from healed tears. Fox leaned into the touch, sighing softly as he continued his attentions on you, rocking back on his calves to look down at you spread beneath him.
He tugged your dress up over your thighs, eyeing the red lace thong underneath with raised eyebrows.
“You like it?”
His eyes flicked to yours. He didn't answer, just flashed you those fangs of his as he shifted down. He pushed your knees to the side as he leaned in, biting your folds through the fabric. You let out a squeak as his teeth grazed your clit, gasping as he did it again. He nuzzled you with his nose, breathing deeply the scent of your arousal.
“You’re so kriffing wet, meshla…”
He was right, the cold air catching the damp skin of your thighs. He blew on the glistening flesh, making the skin bump and pulling a whine of need through you.
Fox chuckled, grabbing the waistband of your panties. He twisted his fingers into the lace and with a sharp tug the delicate fabric tore, exposing you to him. You watched the ruined article disappear into his back pocket before he pinned you again.
His lips locked to yours, hips grinding into you as you felt his hand undoing the belt buckle and buttons at his waist. You wanted him inside you already,
“Hurry, Fox…”
He bit your lip, a jangle out of sight signalling his jeans were undone. You hooked your fingers into the waistband, helping him slide them down. His cock slapped into you as it was freed, firm and ready. Reaching for it, you felt his length, stroking him as he repositioned himself. He lifted one of your knees guiding himself to your dripping pussy. The head slid over your folds, finding the natural nook for it between your legs.
With your thigh wrapped around him, Fox braced himself on his elbow. He watched your face as he slowly began to penetrate you. Inch, by slow, tantalizing inch he filled you; watching your expression with intense concentration. He seemed pleased with the way your brow knit as you gasped, the flush that colored your cheeks. Your nerves were on fire, able to feel the ridge of him sliding into you, every vein on his shaft. You were ready to come undone for him right then and there, quivering as he finished sheathing himself inside of you.
He stayed like that a moment, pinning you with his hips. Leaning in to kiss you, taking his time to feel your lips against his sure and firm, almost possessive. Fox's hand on your thigh pulled your leg around his side and you obliged, wrapping it around him tightly as he started to move.
Short, shallow thrusts. Slow, grinding into you before withdrawing again. You needed more air, pulling your lips away to bury your head against his shoulder, panting at the rippling pleasure coursing through you.
Suddenly his hips snapped, the sudden hard thrust ripping a small scream from your throat;The wave of ecstasy that hit your brain too sudden, and you arched back, thighs wrapping around him even tighter. He smiled down at you as he did it again, slamming into you hard.
“Fox!”
He picked up the pace, brutal thrust one right after another. His belt buckle rattled against the side of the metal shelf, the harsh clatter contrasting the soft, wet pops of his skin meeting yours. You weren't able to make a sound through the onslaught, your body seizing under him as your synapses were set aflame.
“Cum for me,”
He growled into your ear.
That did it.
Your sex clenched around him at the command, body going taught and rigid as a strangled cry escaped you. You're sure you ruined his coat. The com in your discarded purse began to hum again.
You stayed at that high, feeling floaty as your brain swam in the tingling sensation. The only things grounding you to reality being the soft leather of his gloves gripping your thigh, cupping your neck, the half groaned praises in your ear, and of course his hardened shaft hammering into you.
“You feel so good beneath me, meshla…”
He was lost in his own pleasure, whispering almost incoherently into your neck as he fucked you.
“I'm going to… soon, I want to… inside of you,”
Your nails dug into his back as you locked your legs around him,
“Do it… fill me,”
He groaned, something low and feral, his thrusts becoming less measured. His hips snapped erratically into you, overwhelming you over another edge. You bit into his shoulder as you came again, the glove on the back of your neck urging you on,
“Harder,”
He panted.
You flexed your jaw, putting real weight into the bite even as your muscles twitched from climax.
Fox's hips dropped, pinning you flat as he bottomed out in your cunt. The thob of his cock and the grunt in your ear betrayed the finality of his motions.
He held you there, still and poised in the taught throws of climax. He twitched several times, filling you till it gushed around his sheathed cock to run down your already slick skin.
His muscles relaxed, and carefully he settled his weight onto you, wrapping his arms under your back keeping himself firmly buried inside your pussy. He nuzzled your neck, satisfaction dripping from him,
“I needed that,”
…
“Me too,”
~~~
You laid back on his jacket as he inevitably dismounted, boots hitting the floor with a hard thump; Watching with longing as he pulled his jeans back up over his ass hiding it from the perfect vantage you had laying on the morgue self.
Once his belt was done, he turned leaning in to give you pecking kisses as he gently took his shirt from under you. You drank in his musculature before he could hide it with the red fabric. You felt like you could fall for this handsome man, the odd melancholic look that was once again furrowing his brow.
He felt the weight of your gaze on him, reaching to lift your hand to kiss your knuckles, your palm, teeth softly grazing your wrist.
“What now, Commander?”
“You go home…”
He purred it playfully,
“...and I figure out a good excuse to see you again,”
“You need an excuse?”
“Oh yes, and I think I've already came up with a good one,”
He reached down to where your purse had fallen, withdrawing the com and cancelling the call that had started to come through again. You saw him type in a number, presumably sending a message to himself.
“Is that right? What little scheme are you brewing?”
“How about I pull the file for your parent's case, bring you a copy… you said they never shared their findings didn't you,”
Not in so many words, but there had been some bitterness in your exchange with him earlier he seemed to have latched onto.
“You’d do that?”
“Not out of the goodness of my heart… I bring you the file,”
He put his pointer finger to your lips, trailing it down your neck, between your breasts down to the apex of your thighs.
Do you happen to have any personal hcs for how Fox and Hound (not like the movie lol) might look under their helmets? Since we don't see that in the original show...
Hi there! I definitely do have some personal headcanons about appearance (though now I'm thinking about The Fox and the Hound, lol)
Commander Fox
Fox doesn't generally cut his hair in a regulation style unless it gets too long to stand under his helmet, which means that he only has a regulation cut once every six months or so.
His hair started going grey within four months of his assignment to Triple Zero and by the time the war ended his hair was mostly salt and pepper.
He doesn't care overly much about grooming, in the sense that he'll go a day to two without shaving or brushing his hair, so when he's not wearing his helmet he's got obvious stubble and his curls stick out in random directions.
Perpetual dark circles under his eyes since he only gets about 5-6 hours of sleep a night.
Fox has several scars from his cadet days, including a long one across the bridge of his nose, and a burn scar on his left forearm.
One of the big things for when I write Fox, is him having Lichtenberg Scars traversing an entire arm and going up the side of his neck, he hides them from his brothers outside the Guard by wearing his blacks all the time.
I also think that he's developed more scars on his body during his time in the Guard. This goes hand in hand with my headcanon that the Guard regularly gets the oldest armor and weapons, and their medics barely have enough bacta for every injury.
I think Fox is heavily tattooed, but I think each tattoo is a continuation of the one he got before. I also think that there's a vod in the guard who does the Corrie's tattoos rather than running the risk of someone other seeing their scars.
ARF Trooper Hound - So, I didn't have anything specific in mind at first, but I started thinking about it and now I do.
I think Hound has shoulder-length hair that he pulls up into a half-tail or a half-bun when he's not working. When he is working, it's braided flat against his head so his helmet doesn't fit awkwardly.
Hound tends to play around with his hair in regards to color, so it's not unusual to see him bleaching a chunk of hair so he can color the blonde with Space Sharpies.
He's leaner than a lot of his brothers, a lot of his job involves running to keep up with Grizzer, so he's built like a runner. This doesn't mean that he isn't as strong as his brothers, just that he's not as big as, say, Jesse.
He keeps himself clean-shaven because he doesn't like the feel of a beard while wearing his helmet, he says it itches.
He has scars from training Massiffs on his arms and legs.
Look, Hound was chosen to become an ARF Trooper and he made being a dog person his whole personality, or so it seems. He even has a Massiff tattoo on his leg, and a massive Loth Wolf tattoo across his back. (Fox told him he was forbidden from requisitioning a loth wolf for the ARF Troopers).
I think Hound is regularly covered in bruises from overly enthusiastic dogs. (I also think he runs, or at least is a part of, a clone fight club. It's an unproductive way for him to deal with the negative emotions that come with being a member of the Guard).
One of the most important lessons any clone learned from growing up was how to survive.
The long necks were always watching them for a moment where they’d slip up, to show a sign that they were in the slightest bit defective and needed to be decommissioned to ensure perfection for their buyers. The Mandalorian trainers were less predictable. Some seemed to like the clones a lot, seeing them as actual people instead of products. Others saw them as the latter. CC-1010 and his brothers learned to watch out for those ones.
They especially learned to watch out for those ones when their specific genetic mutation began to show.
He and his batchmates spent many days strapped to tables as the kaminoans ran tests and injected them with strange substances that made his limbs burn.
It had all started one day during a particularly nasty storm swell. The wind was howling loud enough that they could hear it through the walls of Tipoca City and the rain pelted down hard enough that CC-1010 thought there would be dents in the wells afterward. He’d been followed Alpha-17 through the halls, his brothers in a single-file line behind him as they made their way to the training rooms. They always preferred the days that the alphas trained them.
Sure they were scary and sure they pushed them so hard that CC-5052 had thrown up on Alpha-17’s feet after a conditioning day, but they did it in a way that was unlike the Mandalorian trainers. They treated the younger clones like family, aliit, because at the end of the day, they were clones too.
They’d been right by the windows when there’d been a particularly bright flash of lightning, likely redirected right off the roof of the building, followed by a clap of thunder loud enough to shake the building. CC-1010 hadn’t been able to stop his jerk reaction to jump and duck, hearing similar shouts from behind him.
There was also the strange sound of ripping fabric that came from somewhere near him but he wasn’t sure where.
When the shaking finally stopped CC-1010 quickly straightened back up and immediately realized that something was wrong. The floor was further away than it had been, his body ached like he’d been pulled in every direction, and he was now eye to eye with Alpha-17. The older clone looked about as surprised as he was upon this realization considering that just a moment earlier he’d only been about hip height.
“What the-?” CC-1010 stumbled backward, tripping over too-small boots.
He looked down at himself to realize that the sound from earlier was from his own clothing. His cadet uniform now hung in tatters from where his body had outgrown them. He glanced around to see the rest of his batch staring up at him in shock.
He tripped over himself again and landed on his butt. The air was knocked out of him and suddenly he felt a strange tingling sensation over his whole body. His head spun and CC-1010 closed his eyes to fight off a wave of nausea.
When he opened them again, his batchmates and Alpha-17 were kneeling on the floor around him. He could see a few Kaminoan’s heading their way as well while others tried to usher other groups of clone cadets out of the way.
“You alright 1010?” Alpha asked cautiously, placing a large hand on his once again narrow shoulder.
CC-1010 opened his mouth to answer before his eyes rolled back into his skull and he passed out.
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It was one of those rare cold days on Coruscant. Snow covered the ground leaving a blanket of white. I decided that it would be fun for the younglings to experience it. Little did I know today was going to be more fun than I thought. The Younglings were playing in the snow when I spot a red and white clad Comander. I toss a snow ball at him. He looked around till he spotted me acting innocent. I felt his eyes narrow at me. I giggle turning to the younglings only to have a snowball tossed at me from behind. I turned to see Fox with a snowball in his hand. I gasped but the smile deviously. "Younglings I believe the Comander wants to play." I said pointing at him. Before he could toss his snowball he was pelted by the seven little ones. I laughed Before they were turned on me. This went on for hours as other clones and Jedi joined in.
Time skip
After the children were settled down and in bed, I walked to my apartment. "Iris wait?" I turn to see Fox. "Oh good evening Fox. What's the matter?" I asked calmly. He started rubbing the back of his neck shyly. "Ummm would you like me to walk you home?" It was cute how shy he can be. I giggle wrapping my arms around his. "I would like that." I said resting my cheek on his shoulder looking up at him. The walk was quiet but noth the uncomfortable kind. When we reached my apartment it was late. I didn't want to see him walk back. "Fox why don't you stay the night. It's late and I don't want to see anything happen to you." I said placing my hand over his heart giving him a pleading look. He tried to say now but agreed knowing I don't take no for an answer. He knew where the guest room was because this was not the first time he stayed the night. While I was in the kitchen making hot chocolate for us, I felt him watching me. I blush feeling embarrassed by my selfishness to keep him here. "Like what you see Fox?" I asked now smirking at him. He looked away blushing making me chuckle. I hand him his cup and sat by him. "The younglings like you a lot. Not surprising your good with kids. " he said before taking a sip. "I often times think of what it would be like to have children of my own. Then the Order pops in my mind. It wouldn't end well for me. " I said before taking a sip. "I don't know where I would go or do. " I said looking at the fire. He takes my cup and place both on the table. His gold pools hypnotize me. Before I knew it he had me pinned beneath him. "Fox what are yo-mm" His lips cut me off. My arms wrapped around his neck pulling him closer.
"You have no idea, how long I have wanted to do that Cyar'ika." He said kissing me again. The whole night we stayed in eachothers arms sharing sweet kisses and promises for the future.
The rain on Coruscant may be artificial, but the way it seems to guide you feels as natural as the force as it brings you to a chance meeting that quickly develops into something wild and unwise. You once again meet up with the Clone Commander and his predatory grin. This time he has something for you.
The room flickered with a disperse of electricity rumbling through the night sky. It's been raining a lot lately, and you wondered if the system was on the fritz. Your apartment was dark, the hour late, but the com had you awake. You leaned against a sofa watching the downpour from the window and pulling your silk robe a little tighter around yourself. Your skin pricked with apprehension and anticipation. Waiting.
The humm of the intercom made you jump, and you hurried to answer, confirming that your guest was expected and to send him up. It had been a week since you had seen him, and as the memory of embers reflected in intense eyes drifted into your mind a tremor of need went through you. His messages had kept you on edge since you parted. You shuddered again, a particular set of filthy words echoing back to you.
“You're going to beg for this cock,”
You paced to the foyer. Leaning languidly against the door, you waited, breath becoming heavier with every passing second.
A sharp rap came from the other side of the barrier. Without pause, you hit the switch to send the door swishing open.
Fox’s eyes danced with amusement at the prompt response, your breathless visage framed in the door with your carefully tousled hair, your black and gold silk robe that matched your flats decor.
“You alright there, meshla? If I didn't know better, I'd say you were… excited to see me,”
The last words were almost purred as he leaned into your space brushing his lips to your cheekbone. He smelled of death sticks, obviously having struck one up on his way over. Unable to resist you turned, claiming his lips to taste the bitter stain of smoke on them. His hand wrapped about your back, feeling the smooth fabric warmed by your skin as it slipped down to cradle your hip.
He stepped in, guiding you from the entrance and shutting the door behind himself, chuckling,
“Missed you too,”
“Did you bring it?”
You were already breathless with anticipation. He smirked, reaching into his coat to withdraw a data stick. You reached for it, only for him to tug it away.
“I think someone owes me a cup of caf first,”
It was your turn to be amused, stepping backwards to lead him deeper into the dark flat and over to the bar.
“Hot or iced?”
A peel of thunder clapped overhead and a strobe of lightning reflected off his greying locks as he followed you with his eyes.
“Hot,”
You busied yourself making the drinks, putting down a steaming mug in front of him where he sat himself at the table overlooking your bookshelves. He took up the porcelain, clinking his mug to yours,
“To the rain,”
“And caf snobbery?”
You echoed the toast from your first meeting and he smiled softly into his mug before taking a big swig. The taste made him moan low in his throat.
“You do make an excellent cup,”
The mug came down with a smart tap on the glass topped table and he set the data stick down with it.
“This case is interesting, the diagnostics of the crime scene confirmed the use of explosives on the dock, With how high profile your parents were… this should have been all over the holo waves, but I didn't find a single article addressing the explosion,”
You hummed in your throat, pulling the data stick closer to plug in into the port under the glass. The projection clicked on, bathing the two of you in a soft, blue light.
The documents were official, stark descriptions of chemical compounds and postmortem conditions. You scanned them briefly, looking for anything that stood out.
Under the witness statements you recognized a few names, acquaintances and a few that would be hard not to recognize if you were any sort familiar with the social elites of Coruscant. One name stood out to you though, and you tapped the link to open the recorded statement.
The familiar face of your father's protege shimmered into existence. His brow was pinched, his expression drenched in genuine confusion.
“I don't know what happened, We had a meeting and I was making my way down to the dock to great them when the whole place shook… I can't believe it, I still can't believe it…”
You clicked off of the recording, biting your lip uncomfortably. The low rumble of Fox's voice made you jump as it filled the heavy pause,
“Your father was an arts dealer… is that right?”
You nodded. It was a lucrative field putting him in contact with the rich and influential sect of Coruscant and the galaxy at large.
“Not originally though, he used to be an artist until he lost his hand in a ghoul attack,”
Fox blinked, apparently knowing the grim canids that lurked in the lower levels.
“How'd that happen?”
“No idea… they shouldn't have been where they were. It happened outside of his studio, he rented a space to work since my mother didn't like the fumes of the sealants… I was there,”
His brow knit in concern as he took in the suddenly tense set of your jaw and shoulders.
“Didn't he get a prosthetic?”
“He did, but it only frustrated him, Even the best prosthetic… He said it wasn't the same not feeling the brush in his fingertips, That's why he switched to dealing, helping his friends make connections and taking Jognesi under his wing,”
You gestured to the data stick to reference the man that was previously projected. Fox was silent a beat.
“I still don't really get it, this case was buried down deep, Why would someone want to murder an artist… and how high up did they have to be to make sure no one looked into it?”
For that, you didn't have an answer. Only a creeping feeling of discomfort that crawled up your spine. You sighed, turning the projector off but continuing to sift the contents in your mind, looking for meaning. You weren’t even sure why you had wanted the information. Maybe you should reach out to Jognesi. The man had been like family before the accident, perhaps it was cruel to have left him on his own in the aftermath.
Fox cleared his throat and you turned to find his eyes locked on you, the soft light over the coffee station glinting off the glazed surface to look like sparks. A tightening feeling settled itself between your thighs as you remembered the com messages and imagined them in his gruff voice now that he was here seated at the table.
“Thank you for this, Fox, I know it must have been a risk to dig this out of wherever they buried it,”
“I thought I told you, meshla, I didn’t do it out of the kindness of my heart.”
The statement was blunt, his gaze never wavering from that intense eye contact. He allowed the twitch of a smirk to change his face a moment before lunging for you.
You yelped involuntarily as your seat titled backwards, almost toppling. Fox had grabbed your wrists holding them together behind your head. His weight leaned over you, pushing you off kilter so that you balanced on the back legs of the chair. Hot breath that smelled of caf and death sticks puffed over your cheek,
“Why don’t you thank me properly,”
You turned into him, nipping his bottom lip between your teeth. His body pressed more heavily against you as he let his mouth fall on yours, his tongue following your teeth to dive between your lips. There was a hunger to it, his mouth moving over yours, each brush of his lips becoming less graceful as your shared arousal soared.
“Oh please, Fox, right here,”
You felt the corner of his mouth twitch his voice a low, gruff rumble that purred through his chest into yours.
“You can do better than that.”
He suddenly scooped you up, the chair clattering as it was knocked over. The cold glass of the table cooled your rump as you were set on it, his gloves already tugging your robe open. He stripped you to nothing, roughly tugging the sleeves away and tossing the flimsy garment over his shoulder.
Fox was knelt in front of you, weight rocked on his heels as his eyes roved over your exposed flesh.
“Very nice,”
He reached out, cupping one of your breasts and hefted it slightly, watching the creases form as it shifted on your chest. You could feel yourself growing hot from his appraising scrutiny, but he wasn't finished. The smooth leather of his gloves stroked down your thighs, gentling your knees apart till you were fully spread, exposed. The sharp tip of his tongue darted between his lips, eyes lingering on a rivulet of arousal that dripped from your heated petals onto the glass beneath you.
“Very nice indeed,”
You jumped as he suddenly stood. Fox pulled his sweater over his head to drop on the floor. His boots were kicked off next, and after a brief fumble with his belt buckle, his pants and briefs were yanked down and discarded with the rest leaving him naked all for the leather gloves.
Your eyes took him in now, the lean, chiseled form of a clone commander in his prime, speckled with slashed scars and healed blaster wounds from the line of duty. You felt yourself pause at the erect, bobbing shaft that pointed in your direction. The vein under the velvety skin raised and throbbed slightly as his cock twitched under your gaze.
“I'm gonna make you beg for this cock,”
You shuddered as a wave of lust crashed through you at the remembered words.
“Please, Fox,”
“No… you're not desperate enough, not yet.”
He gripped your shoulder, pressing you to lay back, tugging your legs to dangle off the side. You sighed at his rough grasp, the shivers of anticipation rocking through you as you were manhandled into the desired pose. You watched as he knelt back in front of you, his body visible through the table seeming almost clearer framed by the glass.
His breath ghosted between your thighs, and you whimpered, wanting more. As you watched, his gloved hand closed around the base of his shaft, and he started pumping himself at a slow, languid pace. You glanced at his face, framed by your thighs as he hovered over you, blowing gently against your clit. He shook his head as your eyes met,
“Eyes on what you want, pet,”
You stifled a moan at the tease, shifting your gaze back to watch him stroking himself.
Without warning, his tongue pressed against you, licking the length of your slit to flick against the pleasurable button at its apex. You gasped and arched against him as he squeezed his cock under you, a bead of precum welling from the tip.
The tongue against you moved faster, swirling the flesh that guarded your clit. His hand pumped, his tongue flicked, and your twitching sex clamped down on nothing growing hotter and more desperate to be filled. Fox pulled back, spitting a liberal amount of saliva onto you,
“What do you want, pet?”
“You, Fox,”
“What about me do you want?”
“I want your cock,”
You grew hot at the real pleading tone coloring your moaned confession.
He chuckled, harshly growling,
“No.”
…before diving back, sucking your tender flesh between his lips to gently nip between his teeth.
You cried out at the harsh stimulus but he clamped to you, alternating suction and nibbling as you squirmed. His other hand found you, a finger tracing to your entrance and gently applying pressure making your muscles clamp again.
“Please, oh please, Fox!”
He didn't stop, nor give into you, keeping you pinned with his mouth as you desperately tried to buck against his fingers for relief. His tongue moved in sync with his hand, circling your clit as the gloved pads of his fingers massaged circles around your dripping entrance.
The pressure in your pelvis swelled and your thighs trembled in climax, hips thrusting involuntarily. Fox rumbled a pleased moan into your quim, lapping at you as your bud became more sensitive. He was slowly thrusting into his own hand, your vision of him becoming blurred as he continued, setting your senses aflame with incoherence.
“Fox, please, Fox it's too much,”
He ignored you, licking roughly with ever increasing pressure till your legs clamped around his cheeks and fluid gushed down his chin, splashing the table top.
“Fox, just kriffing… Kriff me Fox, I need you… please!”
…
“That's a good girl,”
He stood, flipping you to lay with your stomach on the glass. You arched your back, wiggling your rump in anticipation as he positioned himself behind you. His weight shifted and you whimpered as his heat drew away, only to sigh as his lips brushed a soft kiss on your ass cheek. He trailed them, kisses against your flesh; your tail bone, up your spine, brushing against your shoulder blades until he reached the nape of your neck. He kissed your neck repeatedly, the length of his body pressing against you, the weight of his cock resting in the cleft of your backside.
You whimpered, pressing into him,
“Now, Fox, I can't wait any more…”
He buried his nose in your hair with a groan,
“You… someone like you begging for me…”
You felt his hips move, his firm length trailing down to catch at the apex of your thighs.
“What do you want, pet?”
“I want you to Kriff me,”
“Again,”
“I. Want. You. To. Kriff. Me,”
The response gritted between your teeth and a tingling ache settled in your loins, the tip of his cock pressing at your entrance feeling hot and tantalizing.
He rutted forward, piercing you so that your back arched and you groaned. Only half way before withdrawing, grabbing your hips firmly and standing properly over you. A firm thrust and he was sheathed, the soft weight of his balls thumping against your clit with the swing. Your walls tightened around him and you moaned in relief, full with him. He ground his hips against you, the head of his cock pressing as deep into you as your cunt would allow.
“Kriff you feel good,”
His voice was softer, clouded in his own ecstasy as he began to move. Short, swift thrusts deep into your heated pussy. Your body shuddered with each thrust, nipples brushing against the cool glass to send tingles through your brain. You pressed back against him greedily, helping him bury his cock deep inside you.
Fox's hips bounced off your ass as he fucked you, the lewd slap of wet flesh echoing around the cavernous living room. Your voice rose to add to the din, the sound of pleasure coming out in harsh screams as you were taken roughly from behind.
His palms flattered onto the table to your sides as he humped at a faster, frantic pace. You grabbed onto the edge of the glass surface, scrambling to brace yourself against the onslaught, accidentally activating the holo projector so that blue light enveloped you, highlighting your curves in the darkness.
Fox moaned as he ravaged you, and you turned to look at him over your shoulder. His eyes glowed, reflecting your silhouette against the shining light. His lip was curled in a feral snarl, and sweat glistened on his forehead from excursion but he didn't slow, he didn't lose focus. His muscles bunched and flexed under his skin as he repeatedly thrust himself into you.
Your head began to buzz, every firm brush of his cock against the tight muscles of your quim sending a shock through your brain till you seized. Back arched and stiff, you threw your head back in a silent scream as orgasm ripped through your synapses.
A firm hand grabbed hold of your hair, keeping you pulled back into a contorted bend. Fox's elbow collapsed next to you, his slick chest pressed against your back. He moaned with the movement of his pelvis, guttural growls of a man lost to his instincts till he finally stiffened. He became clumsy as he sheathed himself to the hilt in your slit. A cry escaped you as his teeth sank into the flesh of your neck. Your sensitive flesh gripped at his twitching member, milking out every tingle, every ounce of pleasure that remained as he filled you.
He slumped over you, gasping, letting his body relax slightly. You took the opportunity to shift yourself. Carefully tucking your leg so as not to dislodge him, you turned to face him. Wrapping your legs around his hips to draw him closer, you gently cupped his face, kissing his cheeks softly till his lips found yours and you were once again flattened to the surface.
He held your hands as he kissed you, not daring to move and let the moment end.
You're not sure how long you stayed like that. Wrapped around each other on your dining room table. The storm still raged overhead, the rain a soothing backdrop to your soft, mingling breath. The blue light of the projection glinted off his skin as it pressed against yours. His lips against yours.
“If you want, I can be yours,”
His whisper soft, and full of dreamy wonder that you might want him, all of him,
“Mine?”
“All yours, if you'd have me,”
“... I think I'd like that,”
“ Then say it,”
“You're mine Fox..”
And he was kissing you again. Hands scooped you up, lifting you into his arms as he cradled you to him.
“Where's your shower?”
“Through the bedroom, that way”
You pointed weakly, a little disbelief settling into you as you nuzzled the soft hair that whisped over his chest.
He pivoted to turn in that direction before stopping abruptly, his body suddenly rigid.
“What? What's wrong?”
His head was turned to the table, the images that had clicked on from your enraptured fumbling.
A face hung in the field of blue, no longer obstructed by your bodies.
The suspended features were that of an older man. You recognized him from social gatherings but you didn't know his name.
“Was that man associated with your father?”
“I think he was a friend of my mother's… why? Do you know him?”
first art on this blog!! I fell face first into the little cult following comander fox has and havent left, so i felt it was probably my civic duty to add to the content i was consuming lol
used @circadianaa‘s fox design. hope you like my atempt!
