#slutty oreo

The official Empire Day Gala. An intimate gathering of the five thousand or so utmost of the Imperial elite. It seemed a little silly to feel so giddy, but you would never have merited an invitation on your own. Sitting in the back of the chauffeured speeder, you leaned forward slightly, looking at the glittering city lights of Coruscant through the transperisteel windows. Your anticipation must have shown in your face.

“I wish I were looking forward to this evening as much as you.”

You turned, smiling, to face your date. He was one of the youngest Admirals in the Imperial Navy, but it was really his family’s connections that had secured his own invitation, and he in turn asked you to accompany him.

“There’s no reason you shouldn’t be, Wulfric!”

“It’s going to be a lot of networking for me. And of course you will have to meet Father.” He looked apprehensive.

“He has met me,” you reminded him. “Several times, actually.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t count. That’s just through your work. Not in connection to me.”

You bit your tongue. You liked Wulfric, but he could be so insufferably condescending at times. And his obsequious need to gain his father’s approval for literally everything always wore thin on your patience.

You pursed your lips. “You’re a grown man, Wulfric. You don’t need his blessing, let alone permission, for anything.”

The slightest frown flickered briefly across his face, as though he has never considered that possibility before. He lapsed into silence.

You crossed your legs and looked back out the window.

“Oh your dress!”

“What?”

“It’s not sewn properly!”

“Kriff!” you exclaimed in panic, looking down at your sleek, iridescent white gown to find the defect.

“Don’t curse,” he scolded.

You clenched your jaw at being reprimanded like a child, but inspected your dress frantically to see what Wulfric meant. Suddenly it dawned on you.

“The slit?” you asked laughing. “It’s supposed to be there.”

He gaped at you. “All the way?”

It extended up past your hipbone and, with your legs crossed as they were, showed off your legs and curves perhaps a little too well.

“Yes,” you replied.

“You don’t think it’s a little…” He struggled to finish his sentence under your withering gaze.

You raised an eyebrow. “A little what?” you asked combatively, knowing full well some condescending critique was coming.

“Just…stand so it’s on the other side of Father. He wouldn’t approve.”

Now it was your turn to stare in astonishment. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

“I’m not. And stop cursing.”

Fortunately you arrived at your destination at that exact moment and the speeder slowed to a stop.

Wulfric exited the speeder and extended his hand to help you out. You paused, taking a deep breath. You tried to remind yourself that Wulfric came from one of the oldest and wealthiest aristocratic families in the galaxy, from the era of the High Republic. He wasn’t trying to be judgmental and controlling…It just comes naturally, you thought sarcastically. Nature or nurture? Probably both. You took another breath.

Wulfric stooped to peer into the door of the speeder. “Coming?”

You took his hand and allowed him to help you out. Even in your stilettos Wulfric towered over you. He sighed and looked down at you.

“I don’t mean to be critical. You’re wonderful. And you look lovely.” He hooked his index finger under your chin tilted your face toward his. “You always look lovely.” He pressed his lips to yours.

You broke away and studied his handsome features: deep blue eyes, raven locks, sculpted cheekbones. He was highly educated and extremely intelligent. He paid rapt attention in all your conversation, took a genuine interest in your career, and loved to dote on you with every luxury you could possibly want…

You gave him a mischievous smile. “Well, at least you know when you’re being an ass,” you teased.

“I’m trying to apologize!” he protested.

“I know.” You kissed him back. “And I suppose I forgive you. Shall we?”

You took his arm and the two of you made your way into the opulent venue. You looked up at the massive Coruscanti Civic Center. You had always thought it looked impressive at a distance but now that you were standing beside it, it actually felt very cold and imposing.

You glanced around at the other attendees. You had been worried your dress would look comparatively plain. Undoubtedly there were some dressed in particularly lavish outfits, but you by no means looked out of place. And you were quite pleased with the shimmering, opalescent contrast your iridescent gown provided to Wulfric’s drab olive green Admiral’s uniform.

As soon as the two of you were through the doors, you led Wulfric by the hand straight to the bar. “You need a drink,” you insisted. “Maybe three,” you corrected with a grin. He was looking uncharacteristically stone faced. He didn’t argue.

“Oh Wulfric! Please try to relax! I promise tonight will be fun.” You handed him a shot glass of some dark liquor you were sure was very strong and tasted just as awful.

“Cheers.” You tapped your glass to his and you both downed your drinks. You wrinkled your nose and tried not to gag. You turned around and grabbed another two glasses in each hand. You passed two to Wulfric. “And if the gala is half as horrid as whatever this is, I’ll more than make it up to you later,” you finished with a coy smile. Wulfric looked slightly less miserable at this prospect. Nevertheless, he took both shots in rapid succession and you quickly followed suit, sincerely wishing you had chosen literally anything else from the bar.

Setting the empty glasses down, Wulfric started walking, with you hurrying to keep up with his long strides. You wondered how he expected to find his father in the crowd.

Almost as if reading your mind, Wulfric said, “I supposed I’d better comm Father and see where he is.” You glanced up at him in mild astonishment, surprised their mutual fastidiousness hadn’t compelled the two of them to coordinate a predetermined meeting spot.

But looking up at him, you weren’t paying attention to the crowd. Suddenly you felt yourself painfully collide with something.

“Ow! Fuck!” you swore automatically as you turned to see what you had run into. Double fuck. You hadn’t run into a something so much as a someone. Someone none other than Grand Moff Tarkin…Wulfric’s father.

“Excuse me, sir!” you said hastily. Tarkin gave you a cool look, but didn’t reply.

“Wulfric,” Tarkin said stiffly, turning his attention to his son.

“Father,” he acknowledged. “This is—“ but Tarkin cut him off.

“I trust you all already know each other?” Tarkin introduced Wulfric to the Admirals clustered around him, ignoring you completely. The officers weren’t though. They all had their eyes glued to you, waiting to find out who you were. You pretended not to notice and resisted the temptation to roll your eyes.

“And this is—“ began Wulfric again.

“I thought you were bringing the ISB agent,” Tarkin interrupted. “If your date lacks the social graces to follow through with her commitments, you really should ensure you pay for an escort who has mastered the basics of walking.”

He raised a judgmental eyebrow as his eyes swept down the slit in your dress.

Triple fuck!

“And who looks less obviously whorish.”

“I am the ISB agent, Grand Moff,” you cut in quickly, somehow managing to keep the ire you felt out of your voice. “Lieutenant by day, whore by night. How else do you think I can so successfully infiltrate pirate gangs and Rebel cells?” you said forcing a playful smile.

Tarkin fixed you with a cold stare. You could actually feel the anxiety radiating from Wulfric, but fortunately for you, the rest of the group laughed.

“You must remember me, Grand Moff,” you continued sweetly. “We have met several times, and you have always been incredibly impressed with my work.”

He continued to look at you through narrowed eyes. “I suppose you look familiar, but I don’t recall ever making a comment about your work.”

It was your turn to raise an eyebrow. “Precisely, Grand Moff. I think we all know you have an almost pathological need to criticize.” Poor Wulfric. You were pretty sure he had actually stopped breathing. It was a wonder he hadn’t passed out. But someone needed to put Tarkin in his place. “The fact that you’ve never found anything to ridicule in how I’ve handled any of my investigations proves you hold my work in high esteem.”

Tarkin smirked slightly in spite of himself. “Touché, Lieutenant. Yes, for a novice officer your record is admittedly noteworthy.” His eyes flicked back to his son. “Well, Wulfric, you’ve made your introduction. To business?”

“Oh, uh, yes.” He turned to you, but you saved him the trouble of having to dismiss you.

Your eyes glittered mischievously. “I know, I know, the mysterious Stardust I hear mentioned constantly, yet don’t have the clearance to know anything about. I’ll leave you boys to it.”

Wulfric tried to give you a peck you on the cheek, but you were too quick for him and caught him on the mouth. You kissed him deeply, making sure to bend your knee to emphasize the slit in your dress.

You could practically hear Tarkin rolling his eyes, but the rest of the group was salivating. Men, you scoffed internally.

Wulfric was bright red when you broke apart. “I’ll see you later,” you whispered audibly, smiling coyly. You turned your attention to the rest of the group. “Gentlemen, Grand Moff. Pleasure meeting you all.” You flashed them a dazzling smile before turning and heading through the crowd back to the bar.

Ugh, Tarkin was absolutely insufferable. You needed to have a serious talk with Wulfric about boundaries. You knew Wulfric would be irritated with you for your display, but it was for his own good. Wulfric was too traumatized by Tarkin’s disparaging attitude toward you to realize he, too, was being insulted. Tarkin’s evaluation of your work as “admittedly noteworthy” was probably higher praise than he had ever given Wulfric. What the kriff would it take for Wulfric to realize the perverse thrill Tarkin got out of keeping his approval just out of his son’s reach, forever having to grovel for his acceptance? But Wulfric regarded Tarkin with a respect bordering on reverence. You didn’t know how you could shake him of that delusion. You couldn’t ignore the way Tarkin treated Wulfric, to but there was no kriffing way in the galaxy you were going to debase yourself to earn Tarkin’s favor either.

Drumming your fingers on the bar top, you ordered a glass of champagne. Trying to put the Tarkins out of your mind, you took a sip and scanned the crowd. It was a sea of opulent gowns and Imperial uniforms. If you saw Admiral Yularen or Grand Admiral Thrawn, you reasoned, you could offhandedly remind them of your recent ISB investigations and subsequent arrests. Thrawn, at least, wouldn’t be difficult to spot…

You had just decided to meander through the crowd when suddenly a black gloved hand seized your arm in a vise-like grip. You winced and turned to see who had ahold of you.

You were looking directly into the ice blue eyes of Director Krennic, and he was seething. “Director! May I help you,” you asked as more of an aggressive statement than a genuine question, attempting to shrug your arm out of his grip.

“A word,” he growled.

He practically dragged you to the back of the ballroom.

“What are you doing? Let go!” you hissed, hoping no one of import was noticing Krennic’s behavior.

“Why are you here?” he demanded.

“What do you mean why am I here? I’m with Wulfric,” you replied.

“You told me you were busy toni—wait. Wulfric? Wulfric TARKIN??” Kennic looked as though he had swallowed a liter of that mystery liquor. You weren’t supposed to be here at all. And now you springing on him your romantic involvement with the son of his arch-rival? “What the kriff do you mean you’re with Wulfric?”

“Do you know many other Wulfrics?” you asked innocently.

“What do you mean with?” he repeated.

“He asked me to accompany him tonight,” you said serenely, not breaking eye contact as you took a sip of your champagne. “Now do you mind?” You glanced at Krennic’s hand still on your arm. He let go.

“But I asked you!” he said indignantly.

“After Wulfric, hence my declination of your invitation.”

“But we…” he trailed off and left his protest unspoken.

You raised your eyebrows, as though daring him to finish his thought. It didn’t matter—you knew what he was going to say anyway, but you couldn’t believe he of all people would be so naïve. Yes, the two of you had been involved for a while, but it was nothing serious. It was Krennic—nothing with him ever was. You weren’t even exclusive. No matter what you might have wanted your encounters with him to mean, no woman in the galaxy would consider a string of hookups with Orson Krennic anything other than an incredible fling.

But you hadn’t even heard from him in months. Not until last week when he asked if you would come with him to the Gala. And, truthfully, even if you hadn’t already agreed to go with Wulfric, you would have turned him down anyway. Such a last-minute invite only meant Krennic’s original plans fell through or he had procrastinated and would settle for just anyone to come with him. Flattering as either of those prospects were…

He couldn’t seriously be upset you refused to sit around, pining away for him?

“I’m not discussing this with you, Krennic.”

“Why?” he demanded petulantly.

You glanced around, making sure no one, least of all Wulfric or Tarkin, was within earshot. Gossip was like the lifeblood of the Imperial elite, and you did not need to be publicly associated with the ongoing feud between Krennic and the Tarkins. Krennic, however, would probably love to drag Wulfric over and interrogate him directly, just for the spectacle.

“There are too many people here.” Scanning the crown again, you were relieved to see one seemed to be paying attention at the moment.

“So?”

You could tell he wouldn’t let this go. You glared at him, weighing your options. “Give me 60 seconds then meet me outside,” you instructed. You hurriedly finished the last of your champagne and set down the glass on the nearest unoccupied table. You took a moment to steady yourself. Your head was starting to spin already. You strode toward the exit. You could feel Krennic’s eyes following you as you disappeared into the crowd, wishing he would be marginally less obvious.

You exited the ballroom into the atrium and paused, deciding where to go.

“Why?”

You spun around. Clearly Krennic had followed directly on your heels.

“Oh for kriff’s sake,” you exclaimed throwing up your arms. “You’re incorrigible.”

He strode over to you, the white cape of his uniform billowing in his wake. “Why thank you, darling.”

“Do you even know what that means?” you asked rolling your eyes in irritation.

“Surely not obstinate and difficult, incapable of reform. I’m quite confident you mean to refer to me as charming, clever, dashing, witty, devilishly handsome…”

You shook your head, laughing in spite of yourself. “Devilishly something, I’ll give you that.”

He looked at you soberly. “Why are you with Wulfric?”

You sighed in exasperation. “It’s absolutely none of your business. Why do you even care?”

He opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment a large and noisy group entered the gala through the doors behind you.

“Come here,” you said in low voice. Grabbing Krennic’s hand, you led him down the hall, around the corner, and into an alcove.

He smirked. “Paranoid much?”

“I just don’t feel it’s prudent to come as Wulfric’s date, then spend the evening with you discussing our sexual history!”

A triumphant smile crossed Krennic’s face. “So Junior and Daddy Dearest don’t know!”

Shit.

“No one would benefit if they found out.”

“I certainly would,” he remarked at once. “It would be entertaining in the extreme.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” you said, knowing full well he absolutely would.

“Since you’re so reluctant to answer my question, perhaps Wulfric and I can compare notes—“

“Fine!” you interrupted hurriedly. “Wulfric is everything you’re not. He’s serious, he’s rational, he’s reliable, he’s—“ you stopped abruptly. You had almost said boring.

“He didn’t have to bother with the Futures Program,” you said, deliberately taking a dig at Krennic’s modest upbringing. “We have shared interests. We converse. Plus he has about…” you thought. “Five inches over you.”

Krennic scoffed. “That’s nothing—wait.” His expression turned to one of horror. “MORE? How is that physically—How does that even work??”

“Taller, Krennic! For kriff’s sake! He’s tall.”

“Oh. Well.” He shrugged, looking slightly mollified.

“He sounds dreadful by the way,” he continued. “You haven’t named a single reason that makes him better than me. And you forgot to say that he’s a spineless man-child,” he added as an afterthought.

You were getting fed up. “It’s not about better. Ugh, why am I even having this conversation with you?” You clapped a hand to your forehead. “I shouldn’t have to explain to a grown man how relationships work!”

“Relationship? So you admit there is something between us.”

You groaned in frustration. “You’re deliberately misunderstanding me!”

“You’re deliberately provoking me.”

“You’re just upset because it’s Tarkin’s son. I could be here with anyone else in the galaxy and you wouldn’t care.”

“That’s not true. I would care. I don’t want you with anyone.” He suddenly looked so sincere that for a moment you almost believed him. You sighed deeply.

“We had sex, Krennic. That doesn’t mean there is anything lingering between us.”

“So you don’t miss me?” Krennic asked.

“Don’t do that,” you said with another weary sigh.

“You don’t ever think about me?”

“Stop it, Krennic!”

He narrowed his eyes maliciously. “You never once wished it was me fucking you instead of Wulfric?”

You bit your lip.

“Your silence is very telling.”

“You don’t own me,” you said defiantly.

He fixed you with a ravenous look as he pulled off his gloves and shoved them into his pocket. “Oh really?”

Your heart was pounding as you gazed intensely into his blue eyes. Somewhere in the clouded recesses of your brain, your better judgment was telling you that you shouldn’t be here. But you didn’t feel like listening. “What are you going to do, try to prove me wrong?” you challenged.

“Yes.” He grabbed your wrists and pushed you against the cold marble wall, pinning your hands by your head.

“Let me go!” You tried halfheartedly to wrestle out of his grip, but he saw the spark of desire in your eyes and pressed his body against yours.

He chuckled maliciously. “Oh, I don’t think so.” In an instant his mouth was on yours. His kiss was as desperate as you felt. You stopped struggling. You parted your lips and his tongue slipped past yours. He tasted like that obscenely expensive whiskey he always drank. You could feel his hard length straining against his pants. His lips moved from your mouth to your jaw to your neck. The brush of this tongue against your skin sent a shiver down your spine.

“Oh Director…” you breathed.

“Love it when you call me that,” he murmured.

Krennic brought your hands together above your head and held them in one of his as he ran the other up your thigh.

He raised an eyebrow in pleasant surprise as his hand wandered inside your dress and he discovered you weren’t wearing any underwear.

“I couldn’t,” you shrugged, referring to the ultra-high slit.

“I think you just wanted to make my job easy.” Of course Krennic loved your dress. His fingers slipped inside you as he pressed his lips to yours again. You whimpered. “You’re so wet for me. All this from a kiss? My little slut...”

His fingers curled inside you. Fuck, he knew exactly what you wanted. Already you could feel the tension rising in your core.

“I thought you wanted to fuck me,” sounding much needier than you meant to.

Krennic smirked. “You’re proving my point, darling.”

“Then hurry up!” you demanded.

“In a minute…” he said almost lazily. “Actually, it probably won’t even take you that long.” It was true. He was rapidly pushing you to the edge.

“More,” you whimpered.

He smiled. “Whatever my little slut wants.” His fingers quickened. His thumb traced firm, steady circles over your clit. Your breath was shallow and uneven now. How could he do this to you with just his fingers?

“Orson!” you cried as the waves of your orgasm swept over you.

He was gloating. “A new record for you, I think.” You couldn’t reply. If not for Krennic pinning you against the wall, you don’t think your legs would have supported you.

He withdrew his fingers and released your hands. You immediately reached for his belt. If anything, you needed him even more desperately now.

You fumbled with the fastenings of his pants in your haste to get to his cock as his hands roamed over your body. Finally you managed to free his errection. He was so hard for you already. You pumped his length in your fist.

“Need you,” Krennic murmured against your lips.

“Take me,” you breathed.

His eyes were dark with lust. He lifted your thigh and spread your legs so that your gown rode up, exposing your dripping wet heat. You leaned back against the wall. Between the alcohol and your heels and your desire, there was absolutely no way you could stand otherwise.

“Fuck, I love this dress,” he said. He teased your entrance with the tip of his cock.

“Krennic!” you whined.

“What?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

You didn’t think you had ever wanted anyone more. “Fuck me!”

“I like hearing you beg for my cock.”

You could have actually cried with desperation. “Fuck me, Krennic! I want you so bad! I need you. I—I missed you,” you admitted. “Please, Orson?” you whimpered, knowing what it did to him when you called him by his name.

He couldn’t resist any longer. Finally he sank himself into you. You never got over how perfectly he filled you. You sighed pathetically in delighted satisfaction.

“Prettiest sound in the galaxy…” Krennic took his time, pulling out slowly and entering you again, allowing you both to savor the feel of one another. “Mmm, I missed you too.”

You laughed softly. “Missed my pussy more like.”

“And your tits. And your ass. Oh fuck, and your mouth. But mostly you.”

You ran your fingers through silver-brown hair, peppering his jaw and neck with kisses. “C’mon, Director. Make me believe you.”

A wicked smile crossed his face. “Challenge accepted.” He bent your leg even higher and began driving his dick into your cunt with such force it made you gasp. Whether it was the clandestine nature of your encounter or the time you had spent apart, you were both quickly approaching your high.

He slapped your ass. “Up,” he ordered.

With a giggle, you pushed off your supporting leg and hooked both your ankles together around his waist.

“Good girl.”

You arched your back against the wall, tilting your hips slightly so every thrust felt absolutely perfect. Krennic wasn’t holding back any more. He was pounding into with such fury you knew you were going to be so sore tomorrow. You could feel your walls tightening around his cock.

“Gods so tight for me…”

You didn’t even realize how loud your ragged breathing had become as Krennic continued to assault your needy hole.

“Orson!” you cried.

“Much as I would genuinely love to make you scream my name so that everyone at the gala would hear what I do to you,” he panted, “You’re the one who was so insistent on secrecy.”

“Can’t help it!” you whined. “Feels so good!”

“Cum for me,” he demanded.

“Yes!”

With your eyes closed in ecstasy and his name on your lips, you pressed your forehead against his as your orgasm coursed through you. Almost simultaneously you felt him spill himself inside you, as your cunt contracted blissfully around his cock. For a moment you just held each other, breathing hard.

Krennic gently set you back down. He swept the loose strands of hair from your forehead and gave you a tender kiss.

“Let’s get out of here,” he began.

“No, I—Wulfric!“ You gasped in sudden horror. You had completely forgotten about him. Oh, poor Wulfric.

“Kriff, I’m a mess!” you said in a panic. Krennic was smirking at your dilemma as he adjusted his uniform.

“Go back to the gala and don’t talk to me for the rest of the night,” you demanded as you rushed off around the corner to find a deserted restroom to clean up. Even though you were technically dating, you knew Wulfric would be crushed if he ever found out you had been with someone else tonight. And the fact that it was Krennic…you didn’t even want to think of how thoroughly the Tarkins could bury you and your career.

Once were again as presentable as you could be under the circumstances, you hurried back past the alcove, only to find Krennic still there.

“C’mon,” you told Krennic impatiently. “We’ve been gone much too long.”

He didn’t budge. “I really did miss you.”

Once again ignoring your better judgement, you stopped in your tracks, sighing heavily. You couldn’t stop yourself from asking the question that had been plaguing you. “Then why did you stop comming me?”

“Why didn’t you comm me?”

You blinked. “Well…” It was such a stupid, easy solution. One you had thought of a hundred times. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. “Because…you’re you.”

“I’m me?” he repeated, an expression of faint amusement on his face.

“You’re a—well, you’re sort of a…you know” Manwhore was what you wanted to say.

Krennic was clearly enjoying watching you struggle. He refused to finish your thought for you. Of course he was going to make you say it.

“Ugh, you know the reputation you have! I know you have your choice of women. I couldn’t let myself get attached.”

He pressed his lips together, trying not to smile. “And how did that work out for you?”

“Really kriffing excellent. Obviously,” you said sarcastically.

He was looking serious again. “What if I were to tell I got attached?” he asked.

You laughed derisively. “If that were true, you wouldn’t have let me go.”

“I wanted you to want me,” he said.

“No, that’s just a game.”

“I’m serious,” he insisted earnestly. “I wasn’t seeing anyone else you know. And I haven’t seen anyone since, actually.”

You shook your head as if to clear yourself of the delusion that you of all people could possibly have tamed one of the galaxy’s most notorious playboys. Unbelievable. Maybe the shots had been laced with spice.

“Were you?” he asked.

“Was I what?”

“Seeing other people,” he prompted.

You hesitated, shrugging.

“Who?” he pressed. “Wulfric?”

“I have to get back.” You tried to sidestep Krennic, but he moved to block your path.

“Forget him,” said Krennic firmly. “Come stay the night with me. We’ll pick up where we left off. These last months never happened.”

You gazed longingly into Krennic’s handsome face. It would be so easy to fall back into him. You wanted to. “I…it’s complicated,” you began.

“It’s really not,” he contradicted matter of factly. “Just tell your freakishly tall man-child you found a real man who can satisfy your every need.”

“Orson…” you sighed, torn between exasperation and amusement.

“I know men like Wulfric,” he continued. “A woman like you won’t be happy with him for long. Wulfric wants you to behave. You need to keep your opinions to yourself. At some point he will think it inappropriate for you to have a career, that it should be your sole duty to support his every effort implicitly. You’ll be expected to remain one step behind him, literally and figuratively. Tarkin will dislike you out of spite. And don’t even get me started on whatever kriffed up dynamic the two of them have going on. You will always come second to Tarkin, and if you dare to say anything about it, then you’ll be in the wrong.”

You exhaled forcefully. Krennic was absolutely right and you knew it. But was Krennic really any better than Wulfric? They were really just two sides of the same credit. Awkward, insecure Wulfric who tried so hard to please everyone and suave, arrogant Krennic who never gave a damn what anyone thought. You just didn’t know…

“I…I’m not committing to anything. Wulfric will be on deployment in two weeks. We can talk then.”

“You can come over,” Krennic proposed.

“No. We’ll get caf,” you countered.

“Drinks,” he shot back.

“Dinner.”

Krennic smiled smugly. “Alright, dinner. If that’s where I need to start to prove myself to you, that’s what I’ll do.” He took your chin in his hands and kissed you in the cheek.

You smiled in spite of yourself. “Now can I please go back?”

Krennic gestured for you to lead the way.

The two of you were still down the hall from the gala when you spotted Wulfric emerge, clearly searching for you.

“Wulfric!” you exclaimed and hurried to hug him.

He returned your greeting with a quizzical glance at back at Krennic.

“I’m afraid whatever those shots were hit me rather hard,” you explained. “I ran into Director Krennic here. He was kind enough to keep me company when I stepped out for some air.”

“We were discussing her recent exploits,” added Krennic. “Truly remarkable. You have quite the Lieutenant there, Wulfric.”

Wulfric gazed fondly down at you. “Yes, I do,” he agreed. Though nothing either of you had said was untrue, a pang of guilt coursed through you.

“Now I believe you had some way you were planning on making this evening up to me?” Wulfric whispered to you, but loudly enough for Krennic to hear. You hoped to kriff Krennic would hold his tongue. And, miraculously, he did.

“I did indeed,” you laughed, feeling your face flush.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” said Krennic with a gracious smile and a bow. You and Wulfric turned to leave. “You’re a lucky man, Admiral Tarkin,” Krennic called after the two of you. He chuckled darkly to himself. For now…

thanks for reading besties!! ~remember reblogs are love~ back to the master list

a/n continued: i had soo much fun writing the tarkins. i swear i could hear peter cushing saying the lines 😅 also, i wanted to find an unusual sounding w name for the son to go with wilhuff. (thanks to one of dumbledore’s middle names for inspo haha) im also a very visual person, so it was important for me to figure out what wulfric looked like. to me, peter cushing’s defining features are his eyes and cheekbones. and if i wanted gorgeous blue eyes and defined cheekbones who else but my love benedict (im the original cumberbitch i swear 🤣) but i also wanted him to be incredibly tall and gangling, so i was imaging a lot of zach woods/gabe lewis from the office. (kyle soller/syril karn vibes are also perfect for him, but i was tryna find new casting haha)

i mean look at them!!

honestly loved the plot in this one. if anyone wants a part ii where reader tries to make up her mind, lmk!

tag list! lmk if you want me to add you 🥰

The rhythmic thuds of your punches and kicks landing on the bag sounded through the empty gym. You had had an absolutely infuriating day at work and took the liberty of escaping early to take out your anger on the punching bag, rather than ISB Supervisor’s skulls. You were concentrating so hard you were unaware of the door opening and a figure approaching. You jumped literally a foot off the ground once you saw Director Krennic’s reflection in the mirror.

“What the fuck!” you exclaimed, your heart pounding. Krennic laughed out loud.

“Excellent situational awareness,” he mocked.

“I’m not expecting to be attacked in the fucking ISB gym, Krennic.” You turned back to the bag.

“You’re letting your left hand drop on the right cross,” Krennic observed. “Rotate your hips more.” You ignored him, but still the Director—and your immediate supervisor—kept criticizing your technique. “If you’re going to abandon me early, I expect better form.”

Finally you decided you’d had enough. You suddenly spun to face him. “Fine then old man. You think you’re so perfect, let’s go.”

Krennic’s eyebrows shot up. “Old!?”

“Yeah, you’re like a thousand. Let’s go,” you repeated, beckoning him tauntingly. “Unless you’re afraid you’re going to break a hip.”

He licked his lips, looking like he was trying not to smile. You were glaring at him defiantly. Krennic closed his eyes and gave a resigned sigh. He flicked his cape from his shoulders and tossed it into a corner. Despite your irritation, you were surprised. For some reason you always assumed the cape was sewn to his uniform. Still without a word, he unbuttoned his tunic and threw it on top of his cape. You did your best to keep your eyes on his face and not survey his tanned and freckled body as he pulled off his gloves and added them to the pile. Finally he kicked off his boots. “You’re sure you want to do this?” he asked.

“Are you sure?” you countered.

He rolled his eyes and you lunged.

Knowing Krennic was left handed, you tried to land most of your attacks to his right, but it didn’t seem to matter—he was equally adept at blocking either side.

You were getting tired and frustrated and your technique was growing sloppy. Taking a gamble, you tried to end things quickly with punch with your left hand and a roundhouse kick, but Krennic caught your foot before the kick could land and jerked you off balance. You fell flat on your back, lights popping in front of your eyes as your head struck the mat. Taking advantage of your disorientation, Krennic pinned you down, holding your wrists by your head and keeping your thighs apart with his knees and shins. “And now you’re in a rather vulnerable position should someone want to take advantage of you.” Furious at losing the sparring match so spectacularly, you tried futilely to extricate yourself. Krennic held firm. You simply glowered.

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten I was a Commander in the GAR before I began working on Star Dust,” he said smugly. You gritted your teeth together. Yes, you had forgotten. Even if you had remembered, you would never have expected him to still be so proficient in hand-to-hand combat. Well, in that case, you could think of another way to work out your frustrations—in the form of a consolation prize that seemed a long time coming.

“I don’t know what you mean by ‘take advantage,’ Director,” you said defiantly. “Perhaps you should show me.”

Krennic chuckled. “Do I need to be concerned about your survival instincts?”

You rolled your hips up into his pelvis, feeling his immediate arousal.

“C’mon,” you breathed, your voice and manner softening for the first time.

He didn’t respond. His deep blue eyes searched your face, the first time you had ever seen him indecisive. You were both aware of the magnitude of the line you were about to cross.

You pressed your hips into him again. “Krennic….” Ooh, he felt huge.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” he asked, echoing his earlier question.

“Unless you think you’re going to break your hip,” you quipped again, giving him a teasing smile.

He narrowed his eyes in annoyance. “I’m forty-five! That wasn’t even funny the first time.”

“It’s kinda funny. But lucky for you, I happen to like a silver fox.” You lifted your head off the mat, bringing your lips to meet his. Krennic kissed you back, hard. He let go of your wrists to eagerly push up your sports bra, cupping your exposed breasts in his massive hands.

Hastily you shoved down your leggings and underwear and reached to unbuckle his pants. You slipped your hand into his pants, massaging his rapidly hardening erection. And yes, his cock was every bit as long and thick as you had been fantasizing about.

Krennic meanwhile was playing with your tits, rolling and pinching and pulling your nipples just hard enough to drive you mad with desire. You arched your back up into him, humming your pleasure. He began tracing tantalizing circles around your nipple with his tongue.

“Krennic!” you whimpered. “Need you…”

He slipped two thick fingers into your cunt and smiled at your wetness.

“If I would have known you were this eager to fuck me, I’d have tried it a long time ago,” Krennic said, curling his fingers inside you.

“I thought that was your plan the night we got drinks. I was slightly disappointed.” You tried in vain to keep your voice steady as Krennic began pumping his fingers in and out.

“To be honest, it was at first. But I didn’t want you to think I was trying to take advantage of your emotional state.”

You laughed. “Director Krennic, ever the chilvarous gentleman.”

“Well, I couldn’t risk losing the best assistant I’ve ever had. I am sorry to hear you were disappointed…and apparently absolutely dripping with desire for me.”

“Well then hurry up and fuck me already,” you practically whined, spreading your thighs a little more.

His smile widened. “Well since you’re begging so pathetically…”

He quickly and deftly penetrated your slick folds. You gasped at the thickness of his cock, but you were so pathetically wet he encountered no resistance.

“Oh Krennic!”

“What?” he asked, feigning innocence.

You rolled your eyes. As if his ego needed any more inflating. “You know damn well what.”

He grinned. “But I want to hear you say it,” he whispered, leaving a trail of kisses down your neck.

The emphasis he placed on “you” didn’t go unnoticed. As though he had been told a thousand times, but he only cared what you thought of him. You, his assistant, his subordinate. You, for some reason, of all people, were the only one whose opinion he cared about.

You flashed a grin. “You’re fucking huge, Krennic!”

He didn’t waste any time teasing you. You planted your feet on the floor, angling your hips to take full advantage of his considerable length. Every thrust was perfect, hitting you in just the right spot.

Your kisses were sloppy, needy, desperate—as though trying to make up for the months or maybe even years the two of you could have been fucking, but missed out on.

All too soon you felt the familiar taughtness in your core. Your hands were tracing up his biceps, through his hair, down his back, pressing him closer into you.

“Krennic!” You dug your nails into his back as you came.

You desperately wanted him to continue, but no sooner had you finished then he pulled out. Before you could protest your disappointment at the sudden emptiness, Krennic was on his feet.

“Up” he ordered. But you didn’t. You just got to your knees, looking up at him through your lashes.

You ran your tongue from the tip of his cock to the base, causing him to shudder. You smirked up at him as you closed your lips around him and began sucking in earnest. Normally you didn’t like giving head after sex, but for Krennic you could make an exception.

“Oh fuck!” he groaned.

He threaded his fingers through your hair, urging your head further onto his dick as you increased your pace.

“Wait!” Krennic said suddenly. His fingers still entwined in your hair, he pulled you to your feet. “Not yet…”

Ripping off your pants entirely as Krennic kicked off his own, you stood. Krennic roughly shoved you in front of him and bent you forward. You obediently braced your arms on the mirror and arched your back, keeping your legs straight.

“Fuck, look at you,” Krennic said, admiring your body in the reflection of the mirror. He ran his hands up your torso to your breasts then down your back to your ass and legs. “Fuck,” he repeated, giving your ass a playful smack.

“Don’t just stand there,” you said, trying to appear nonchalant, though internally you extremely pleased with his appraisal. “Do something about it.”

Krennic positioned himself behind you and thrust into you once again.

“Oh, yes, Director!” you gasped breathlessly. As you could have guessed, Krennic’s arousal and enthusiasm increased with your use of his title. He was griping your hips so hard you were convinced you’d have bruises the next day, but you didn’t care.

Krennic’s grunts, your moans, the lewd squelching of Krennic’s dick pounding in and out of your dripping cunt filled the gym now. Was it really less than an hour ago you were envisioning punching Ronan’s face on the bag? And now Director Krennic was fucking you as though the fate of the galaxy—or even Star Dust—depended on it?

Your eyes were closed, trying to savor the pleasure.

“Look at me,” Krennic commanded.

You obeyed, holding his ice blue gaze in the mirror.

“Please!”

“Please what?” he asked as though requesting clarification on a memo you had sent.

“Fuck, Krennic! Please make me cum!” you implored, eyes shut again.

“Look at me,” he directed once more.

Your eyes snapped open in delighted surprise as his fingers found your clit.

“Oh shit!” you gasped. Krennic smirked as your walls fluttered around him. You felt yourself clench around his thick cock again and again as he fucked you through your high. Just as you thought you felt your arms and legs wouldn’t be able to support you any longer, you felt his considerable release.

You both stood panting for a moment, trying to catch your breath. You straightened up, him still inside you. Krennic’s thick fingers wove through your hair again, more gently this time, turning your head to meet his lips.

“Can we do this every time I have a bad day at work?” you breathed.

Krennic chuckled. “Now there’s an idea.”

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You lounged in the high-backed black chair at the head of the long conference table aboard the Death Star. The highly polished surface reflected every light in the room. In the oppressive silence of the empty conference room, you studied the mirror-like reflections. Twelve halo-like reflections perfectly centered on the table in front of each of the twelve chairs. Even the minuscule stars visible through the floor to ceiling picture window were represented in reflection. You tried counting the tiny pinpricks of starlight too, but couldn’t concentrate. Where was he?

Despite your relaxed posture, your nerves were alight with anticipation. You slouched further, uncrossing then recrossing your legs to relieve some of your nervous tension. Your knee-high patent leather boots gleamed with a gloss to rival the table. Flexing and pointing your foot you absently noticed the distortion of the oblong white lights built into the room’s black walls across your boots. Another minute dragged by. Your patience was dwindling. It was most unlike him to be late. You didn’t think you could stand it if he missed it…

The door to the conference room abruptly opened with a distinctive hiss. Your eyes snapped to the doorway.

Krennic stood on the threshold. His ice blue eyes fell on you and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“You’re late,” you snapped.

The smile disappeared and his brows knit together in the shadow of a frown. “My dear, had I known you were the one with whom I was to meet I would have ensured a timely arrival.”

“I didn’t realize the great Imperial Director made it a habit to be tardy,” you said irritably.

Krennic’s smile returned with a chuckle. “Only when I assume Tarkin issued a summons for me in my own Death Star. Tell me, my Senator, what have I done to incur your wrath?”

“You’re late!” you repeated.

“Only by a minute my love,” he protested.

“Seven,” you corrected heatedly. Now that he was actually here, your anger was ebbing, but you wanted to keep up the act.

“And I beg your forgiveness.” Krennic stooped to kiss your cheek, but you stood and, brushing past him, strode to the window. You nervously scanned the vastness of the canvas of space, but didn’t see anything except for a Star Destroyer floating lazily against the velvety black. Good, you thought, he won’t have missed anything.

“Now really,” Krennic pouted as he trailed behind you. “Is this any way to treat me on my birthday?”

“Is it?” you answered vaguely, not taking your eyes off the Star Destroyer. You realized Krennic’s lack of punctuality might actually serve to enhance your plan. Initially you were going to pitch your idea, but now he would be able to see…

Crossing his arms, Krennic let out an indignant noise of disbelief. “I cannot believe—“

“And I cannot believe a grown man is about to have a tantrum because I forgot his birthday.”

“After what I did for you—“

“Shh!” you cut him off.

Krennic petulantly stared out the window.

“Ah! Finally!” you breathed, a triumphant smile spreading across your face.

There was a moment of silence as he waited for you to explain. “Finally what?” he dared ask.

“Look,” you commanded, pointing to the Star Destroyer.

The triangle of a shadow was spreading over the ship. It continued to grow, slowly engulfing the entire ship.

You turned to face him, fully beaming now. Krennic craned his neck trying to see what object could possibly dwarf a Star Destroyer. “What the…” he began, then started in surprise.

The point of an absolutely massive ship appeared at the top of the window. The ship continued on its course, growing impossibly larger every moment, filling the entire frame.

Krennic’s jaw dropped. “What in the galaxy?” he asked breathlessly. “That cannot possibly be a Star Destroyer.”

“Of course not!” You couldn’t help an involuntary an eye roll as you turned to face him as he studied the ship. “It’s a Super Star Destroyer. Pet project I’ve been working on. It’s not been commissioned by the Empire yet. This is just the prototype. I call it…the Director.”

“The…” Krennic turned to you in amazement, his eyes positively glinting with glee at the implication of the moniker.

You nodded and giggled in delight. “The Director for the Director.”

Krennic had no words. He dipped you into a passionate kiss for a long moment before straightening up. He took your hand as he faced the window once again to admire his ship.

“Happy birthday love,” you said leaning your head against Krennic’s shoulder. “I could never forget.”

“Give me the specs,” he ordered like a giddy child.

You giggled again. “19,000 meters long. Thirteen engines. Two deflector shield generators.”

“How much bigger is mine than Tarkin’s?” he demanded, leaving a trail of kisses from your shoulder to the curve of your neck.

“For kriff’s sake Orson! Will you restrain yourself?” you exclaimed, half exasperated, half amused as you felt his evident arousal.

“No! It’s my birthday!” He gave you an exaggerated pout.

You laughed and brushed your lips against his cheek. “Lucky for you I find that expression irresistible.”

“Good.” He grabbed your hand and strode away from the window and out the conference room.

“Where are we going in such a hurry?” you asked, practically jogging to keep up behind his billowing white cape. “I thought you wanted more specs?”

“That can wait. First we need to go christen my ship.”

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Frustrations

Your father was beyond intolerable and your spineless older brother was no better. You would never have expected to be allowed to join the ranks of the Imperial military, but your father had paid good credits for your various degrees at all the best universities across the galaxy. You’d think he would at least want you to put them use. But no, the mighty Grand Moff had no use for a daughter with any original thought or ambition. And Wulfric just stood there. He would apologize and sympathize endlessly later, you knew, but ever since he graduated the Imperial Naval Academy, he had stopped trying to defend you to your father to protect his own career.

You were so furious. You needed to do something to make your father just as irate. You’d pulled a fair number of juvenile stunts over the years, but you wanted something more devious.

You practically doubled over in laughter as a deliciously insane idea came to you.

Taking out your comm link, you sent a message to the Imperial Director of Advanced Weapons Research. Without waiting for an answer, you snuck out to your family’s landing pad and commandeered a speeder and flew to the ISB headquarters on Coruscant.

En route, you received a reply. Yes, I’m in my office. Then immediately after: May I inquire as to why you want to know?

Don’t go anywhere, was all you sent back.

“I HATE Tarkin!” you raged the second the door to Director Krennic’s office opened.

Krennic, seated at his desk, had looked up from his datapad in surprise at the interruption, but then chuckled. “I agree whole heartedly, my dear. Is there any particular—“

But you cut him off. You had marched straight to his desk and straddled his lap. You took his face in your hands and kissed him.

At first he kissed you back, hard, but then he pulled away.

“What are you doing Miss Tarkin?” he asked, slightly alarmed.

“What do you think? I want you to fuck me!”

He stood up, pushing you off his lap, and actually retreated a few steps. “Uh, not that I don’t want—That is to say, as enjoyable as—And not that I’ve ever thought about it—“ A pink tinge was growing in his cheeks. He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. “Where is this coming from?”

You giggled. It was hilarious to see Krennic flustered. He was always suave and arrogant, domineering and ambitious, with outbursts of temper, but never was he caught off guard. You honestly felt rather proud of yourself for eliciting this reaction from him. Still, you knew Krennic’s little charade of self restraint wouldn’t last long.

“C’mon Krennic,” you protested with a coy smile, closing the distance between you two. “You hate my father too. Don’t you want to piss him off?”

“Almost always,” said Krennic, prying your hands away from his belt you were trying to unfasten, “but usually in ways I feel won’t result in him murdering me.”

You grasped the edges of that stupid, pretentious cape and tugged him close.

“I know you want me, Director,” trying your best to make your voice soft and sultry. “I can feel the way you look at me. But we’re always in public or with my family. You can’t take what you want. And now here I am, alone with you, begging you to take me. Are you truly going to refuse me?” You looked up at him through your lashes.

He licked his lips but didn’t reply. You hadn’t anticipated any resistance from him. Your expression changed from expectant to petulant and, spite of yourself, you stomped your foot in frustration.

“Fine!” You gave his chest a little shove and took out your comm link again and started dialing. “Do you know if the Chimera is deployed? Maybe Thrawn—“

“Oh, fuck no!” Krennic grabbed your comm from your hands and practically threw it across the room. “There are dozens of ways for you to get back at Tarkin. But if you really want to infuriate your father AND you want to relieve your own tension?” Krennic took you by the waist and brought you closer. “Tarkin would hardly take Thrawn personally and Thrawn wouldn’t have any idea what to do with you anyway. I’m the only one who can satisfy both requirements.”

You grinned and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Knew I’d get you with Thrawn.”

“Oh you did, did you?” You giggled as Krennic eagerly pressed his mouth to yours again.

“You have been looking at me, haven’t you?” you asked.

“‘Course I have. It almost seems disrespectful not to,” he replied between kisses. “You go to the trouble of looking so divine. Shouldn’t you be admired?”

Your hand wandered to his crotch, massaging the not insignificant bulge that was rapidly hardening under your touch.

“So you want me?” you asked, feigning innocence, and pulling back to look into his ice blue eyes.

Krennic laughed. “My dear there is nothing I want in the galaxy more at this moment than to have you coming completely undone on my cock.”

“But because we hate my father—“

“Because we hate Tarkin,” he finished with you.

You held his gaze for a moment, with the feeling that this was probably meant a little more than purely sex to both of you.

“So….?” you asked, referencing the fact that Krennic was still completely in uniform.

You cocked your head to the side, watching as Krennic took off his boots, pulled off his gloves, and draped his cape over the back of his chair before starting unbutton his crisp white tunic.

You feigned a huge, dramatic sigh. “Uniforms are soo tedious,” you observed.

“You could…help…?” Krennic began. But you had already untied the sash of your robes and merely shrugged them off, the lace and silk pooling at your feet. He was gazing open mouthed at you.

“What??” you asked panicking slightly.

His smile widened as he tossed the tunic onto his desk. “I don’t want to cast aspersions on your mother’s character, but it just seems impossible that you could be genetically related to Tarkin.”

You laughed. “Wulfric and I were tubies. Part of their prenup apparently, to ‘ensure the genetic purity of the Tarkin heirs.’ Fortunately for me, my mother’s genes were strong.”

“Flawless,” corrected Krennic.

“I already want you; there’s no need for flattery,” you said dismissively.

Krennic looked slightly hurt. “It’s not flattery. I think you’re prefect.”

Perfect? You tried unsuccessfully not to smile. “We have better things to talk about than my parents’ marital arrangements. And to do…So take off your pants,” you demanded.

“I don’t normally like taking orders from a Tarkin…”

“Do it!”

Krennic raised an eyebrow in mock warning but you could see he was extremely hard already. “Very well Miss Tarkin. I’ll…obey.”

The word sent shivers down your spine.

Torturously slowly, it seemed to you, he stepped out of his pants and tossed them onto his desk with the rest of his clothes.

“Now sit,” you said, gesturing to the chaise lounge he had in the sitting area of his office. Probably for this exact reason, you just realized.

He sat down, legs spread, dick on full display for you. You felt heat rising in your cheeks as you studied his cock. He was very big. You weren’t a virgin, but you would by no means call yourself experienced in this area. You tried very hard not to think about all the other women Krennic had been with in his office and how much better they probably were than you at all this. Butterflies rose in your stomach and for the first time you wondered whether this was still a good idea.

Heart beating rapidly, trying to maintain the pretense of feeling in charge, you knelt over him. You took his ridiculously thick cock in your hand and pumped it a few times. He groaned in satisfaction. You held his cock steady as you lowered yourself onto him. You whimpered slightly at the burn as he stretched you.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Krennic moaned.

You slowly raised and lowered yourself a few times, getting used to the feeling of him inside you. Once you adjusted to his girth, you started moving faster.

Krennic leaned back, his hands locked behind his head. His eyes moved lustfully down your body, reveling in the sight of you bouncing on his cock.

Gods he felt so good. But that was all—you weren’t getting any closer.

Sensing your frustration, Krennic said, “Am I right in thinking that whatever amateur schoolboys you’ve been with haven’t been able to take proper care of you?”

“Yes,” you conceded, pausing as you felt heat rising in your face.

“But are you able to take care of yourself?”

You blushed furiously. “That seems a rather intimate question.”

“This is a rather intimate situation,” he countered. He waited. He really wanted your answer?

“…Um, sometimes,” you admitted, face still burning. “But this is different.”

Krennic nodded sympathetically, licking his lips again.

“Try this.” With his massive hands, he grasped your waist, guiding your hips into a rocking motion instead of just vertical.

You inhaled sharply at the new sensation.

“Better?” he asked.

You nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, yes!”

You moved your hips faster, chasing your high. Soon your breathing became shallow as you felt a heat rising in your core. This was a new feeling, but you knew you must be getting close.

“Please Krennic?” you gasped.

He gave you a knowing smile. “Please? Tell me what you want, Miss Tarkin.”

“Getting close…”

“You’re going to have to use your words, darling. I know it’s hard to concentrate when you’re being such a good girl, riding my dick so well…”

Why was he making you think? He knew what you wanted, what you needed.

“Please Krennic,” you begged. “Please. I…I want you to make me cum!” It felt cheap and dirty and yet so fun to voice your desires out loud. Was Krennic turning you into a slut? Hopefully…

He smirked. “Ah. And if I do this…?”

His thumb found your clit and massaged slow, steady circles.

“Oh, fuck!”

You thought you might actually cry his touch felt so good. But he was still teasing you.

“Need more,” you panted.

“Why?” he asked.

“Krennic!” you whined.

“Do you want to cum?”

You nodded.

“Well then use your words, darling.”

Gods this was not fair.

“Wanna cum for you, Krennic! Need to cum for you!”

“Mmm good girl.” At last he sped his touch. It was all you needed.

Finally he pushed you over the edge. It was the most blissful feeling in the galaxy. The most intense surge of pleasure coursed through your whole body. You expected Krennic to stop, but he didn’t, so neither did you. Wave after wave seemed to crash over you—or was it one never-ending orgasm? You didn’t know and you didn’t care. Your brain was no longer working and all that mattered was that Krennic was giving you more pleasure than you would have ever imagined possible.

Finally you couldn’t take anymore. “Too much,” you gasped. You collapsed on top of him, still inside you, resting your head on his smooth chest.

“That’s my new favorite sound in the galaxy,” said Krennic after a moment, brushing your hair behind your ear.

“What is?” you asked, still breathing hard.

“The way you moan my name when I have you cock dumb and overstimulated.”

“Oh gods!” you laughed.

“So are you feeling better Miss Tarkin?”

“Immeasurably!” You rested your chin on his chest to look up at him. “I was a little busy, but I don’t think you released your tension yet though?”

Krennic smiled mischievously.

“Miss Tarkin, I hope you know what it is you’ve gotten yourself into.” In one quick, fluid motion, he sat up and reclined you onto the chaise so that his weight was pressed against you.

“I have hours of frustration to work out before I’m finished with you.”

**********

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“Well? What do you think?” Orson asked, his blue eyes glittering roguishly and a mischievous smile lighting his handsome features.

You looked at your husband in the driveway, torn between arousal and aggravation. With his white tuxedo jacket and black pants, he did look incredibly Bond-ish. The likeness was heightened by the fact he was standing proudly in front of his newest acquisition: a white Corvette Z06, freshly delivered to your doorstep from the dealership. However, this extravagant purchase was the source of your annoyance, which, you reasoned, shouldn’t come as a shock to him.

“Please tell me this is some sort of extended test drive,” you moaned, massaging your temples.

“Nope!” Orson said, patting the hood fondly. “She’s all ours. What do you think?” he repeated.

Irritation was winning. You crossed your arms and let out an exasperated sigh. “I think we’re not going to Italy this summer.”

“Of course we are!” he contradicted immediately. “What on earth does a car have to do with our anniversary trip?”

“A car? The McLaren and the Audi and the ROLLS aren’t excessive enough?” you exclaimed, gesturing to the garage.

“We need an American car!” he pouted.

“Oh my God, get a Ford!”

“Besides, anything else would have clashed with our colors tonight.”

You gaped in utter disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me? We’re wearing black and white. Nothing clashes with black and white.”

Orson refused to let his mood be dampened. He opened the passenger side door for you. “C’mon, love, get in,” he coaxed, still smiling. “We’re going to be late. The traffic to LA will be horrendous.”

“UN-believable,” you muttered as you lowered yourself into the black and red leather racing seat. He still hadn’t even removed the plastic covers yet. “Two hundred fifty grand on a new car to match our outfits for ONE gala??”

“Only two hundred,” he corrected.

“Oh, well that’s practically fucking free,” you said sarcastically.

“And it can be driven more than once. Very environmentally friendly of me, when you think of it.”

You scoffed as he shut the door.

As Orson walked around to the driver’s side, you stole a quick glance at the interior of the car. You were annoyed to find you could appreciate the contrasting red stitching against the black leather, which also matched the red brake calipers. Sleek console, massive touch screen display, carbon fiber trim on the dash. Orson always did have a taste for the dramatic. Ohh and that new car smell…

He slid into the driver’s seat and pulled on a pair of black leather driving gloves with red stitching.

“Seriously?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Seriously,” he grinned.

You shook your head, trying not to smile back. For some insane reason you had the ridiculous urge to grab his hand and suck his fingers. Since when were gloves a thing for you? You stared out the window and tried to remember you were supposed to be irritated with your husband, not turned on.

As you drove past the guardhouse of your Fairbanks Ranch gated community, Orson was rattling off the specs for the car.

“I don’t care, Orson.”

“You’ll care about the Bose sound system,” he teased, knowing how much you loved singing in the car.

You didn’t respond.

“I didn’t get a good enough look at you before we left,” Orson said as he merged onto the 5 North. “You look stunning.” His eyes raked hungrily over your body in a sleek black satin gown with a deep cowl neck.

“Watch the road,” you snapped. Orson had a lead foot and a tendency to push his vehicle’s performance. You didn’t need him distracted as he tested out his new toy.

He traced his fingers over your exposed thigh.

“Don’t,” you said, shoving his hand away.

“I love when you wear these slit-y dresses,” he said running his hand back up your leg. “Such easy access for me.”

“Stop it Krennic!”

“Krennic?? Oh,” he said, finally serious. He put his hand back on the wheel. “You are upset.” He glanced over at you. He hesitated. “Babe, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t—“

“No, no it’s ok,” you interrupted wearily. “I’m not upset.”

Orson tried to hide his reflexive scoff behind a clearing of his throat.

“I’m not,” you insisted. “Well, not that upset. I’m…not opposed to the car on principle. It’s actually kind of sexy,” you admitted with a grudging eye roll. “And lord knows you can do what you want with your money. It’s just…” you trailed off with a sigh.

“No, no, I want you to go on about the sexy part.”

“Orson!” you laughed. “It’s just…You’re so impulsive sometimes. I worry. I don’t care about the money or the things. I just don’t want you getting yourself into trouble.”

He was silent for a moment, frowning slightly as he considered. “You’re right. You’re my wife and my partner. I wouldn’t make any significant decisions without consulting you. I thought the car was fun and frivolous. But I can adjust my definition of serious.” He took your hand in his and kissed it. The mischievous glint was back in his eye.

“Sooo…am I sexy? Or just the car?”

He gave you a sidelong glance as he licked his lips reflexively. He truly did look like he belonged in a 007 movie.

“Just the car.”

He pouted. “You like the gloves.” It wasn’t a question.

“Maybe,” you replied nonchalantly.

“I think we need to break them in,” he said. He slid his hand under your gown for the third time.

“Pay. Attention!” you demanded, but this time you didn’t stop him.

Orson smirked. “I can do both.”

You slouched slightly in the seat so your thighs spread wider. He began rubbing your clit in firm but steady circles.

A soft moan escaped your lips before you could stifle it. Orson’s smirk widened. He resumed his lecture on the car. Or something. You weren’t paying attention. Leaning back against the headrest, you tried to focus on keeping your breathing deep and steady. Which, really, was pointless as you were so wet already.

Orson’s fingers were good but his tongue was better. Ugh his tongue was soo good. You tried to imagine him eating you out…using his tongue and his fingers…You didn’t think you could wait until you got back home to fuck him. Especially if he kept teasing you like this—touching you more than enough to drive you wild but nowhere near enough to finish you. Maybe you could stay somewhere in LA tonight after the gala, and you could tear into each other properly. You’d never stayed at the Ritz before. You should see if there were any available rooms. But if you did that, you would have to move to reach your phone, and then Orson might stop. You didn’t want him to stop, you wanted more. You would check your phone in a minute…just a minute.

God you wished he would go faster. Or that he would actually finger you. This was maddening.

Suddenly you were aware that the deep, soothing drone of his voice had stopped.

You opened your eyes and glanced over. Orson’s eyebrows were raised, plainly waiting for you to answer some question you didn’t even know he asked.

“What?” you asked breathlessly.

“Distracted much?” he asked with an annoyingly superior smile.

“Not enough.” You pulled your ruined panties to the side and tried to press his fingers into your dripping cunt, but he was being stubborn. “Please!”

“Please what?”

“C’mon!” you whined.

“You sound so desperate. Ooh, I think I like this—my pretty little wifey so desirous she’s begging even for just my fingers.”

“Please Orson!” you implored.

Finally he obliged.

You exhaled almost pathetically in satisfaction as, at last, he sank his fingers into you. Although it was a slightly awkward angle and he was using right hand, Orson was quite adaptable when it came to certain activities.

“Is this what you’re been so needy for?” he asked, his voice even huskier than usual. You whimpered in response, rutting your hips upward so his fingers reached even deeper. Every time he pumped his fingers into you, the heel of his hand brushed against your clit. He wasn’t teasing you anymore. His thick fingers curled so far inside you, giving you exactly what you needed. After being edged for so long, you rapidly felt the familiar tautness building in your core.

As if reading your mind Orson asked, “How’s my girl?” You didn’t even need to look at him to know he as grinning.

“So close!” you gasped.

“Mhmm,” he responded. “These gloves are getting fairly wet, darling. Think you can ruin them for me?”

“Yes baby!” you sighed. “Just please don’t stop!”

Hardly a minute later it was as though the tension inside you snapped as you came. He held his fingers still, savoring the feeling of your cunt contracting around him and, true to his wishes, your arousal thoroughly soaked his gloves.

Before he even had time to make a self-congratulatory remark, you slackened your seatbelt and leaned across the car to his lap.

As you could have guessed, he was already fully hard. It was honestly adorable how aroused he got, just from pleasing you.

You unfastened his pants and pumped his cock a few times in your fist. You licked the precum already leaking from his tip, and Orson shuddered violently.

“What?” you asked innocently, looking up though your lashes.

Orson glanced down at you, trying to be severe. “Are you going to put that mouth of yours to use or what?” he asked.

You gave him a coy smile before running your tongue around the edge of the tip.

“Just pay attention to the road,” you admonished. “This would make for an awkward obituary.”

This time you dragged your tongue from the base of his dick to the tip. You ensured your tongue graced every inch of his cock before finally encasing him in your mouth and sucking all the way up.

“Fuuck” he moaned. In complete disregard for your hair, which had taken you longer than it should have to style, Orson threaded his fingers through it and forced your head down onto his cock.

You gave your head a little toss to indicate Orson should take his massive hand off you—you were more than capable of giving a blowjob without his abnormally large hand weighing down your head.

“Drive!” you commanded—well, as clearly as you could with a dick down your throat.

Using your hand to compensate for the rest of his dick that couldn’t comfortably fit in your mouth, you worked your way up and down his entire length, using your tongue and fingers for extra stimulation.

“Fuck!” he repeated. It was usually the only expression he was ever capable of articulating anytime you went down on him. “What a good little slut I have to suck my cock so well…”

“Mmhmm,” you hummed in agreement.

Gradually you increased your pace. Even without Orson’s labored breathing you could tell he was getting close. At once you felt him twitch and you held still as his load hit the back of your throat. Expertly, you swallowed every drop.

“Oh my God,” Orson said hoarsely. “I swear every time is better than the last.”

You grinned as you settled back into your seat.

“Is this…” his voice trailed off as though trying to remember something. He tilted his head quizzically as he looked at you. “Is this our first fight as a married couple?”

“I’d hardly call it a fight Orson.”

“We need to have makeup sex!” he announced, ignoring you completely.

“Oh my God, you are a fucking nympho!” you laughed. “What did we just do?”

“Not sex!” He was practically giddy with excitement. “Yes, this was our first fight and now we need to have makeup sex.”

He barely glanced over his shoulder before he jerked the wheel and crossed three lanes of traffic to take the exit you had almost passed.

“Shit!” you exclaimed in alarm. “That’s it, Orson, I’m driving the rest of the way.”

“Ha! So you DO like the car!”

“I just want to get there in one piece.”

Orson pulled around the to the back of a Target, into the deserted loading zone.

“Here?” you asked dubiously.

“Yep! Come on—again,” he added with an impish grin. He hopped out of the Corvette and circled around to open your door.

“But anyone could come by!” you protested, glancing around as you exited.

“Then lucky them,” he retorted, taking your hand and pulling you close. Orson tilted your chin up as though to kiss you, but then ducked his head to kiss your neck, nipping your skin too. Damn him, you thought affectionately as you shivered involuntarily. He always knew how to get you.

You leaned back against the hood of the car, somewhere between sitting and reclining, and placed your foot on the bumper of the car so that the entirety of your leg was exposed thanks to the slit of your dress.

“Well alright then, then babe,” you teased. “…Fuck me.”

Orson licked his lips, narrowing his ice blue eyes. He studied you for a long moment like a predator who knows he’s cornered his prey. You raised an eyebrow and smirked back.

Then his lips were on yours in an instant before moving to your jaw and back down to your neck. He still hadn’t taken off those stupid driving gloves. The leather felt deliciously smooth against your nipple as he slid his hand under the neckline of your gown and massaged your breast.

Your breath caught as he entered you in one swift thrust, stretching you so perfectly.

Orson chuckled softly. “For someone who claims she doesn’t want to get caught, you’re awfully wet. Do I have a bit of an exhibitionist on my hands?” He tugged on your gown, exposing your tits entirely.

“No,” you denied, not completely truthfully. “You just look like James Bond.”

Orson looked incredibly pleased with himself. “Duly noted.”

You unbuttoned his shirt, running your hands down his chest, up his back, across his perfectly freckled shoulders, through his hair…You wrapped your legs around him and reclined fully onto the hood.

“More baby,” you demanded breathlessly.

He obeyed, thrusting his dick into you even harder and faster, hitting the perfect spot every time. In what seemed like no time, your second orgasm coursed through you. You bit down on his collarbone to prevent yourself from crying out as your body contracted into him. Your dress was now twice ruined with the evidence of Orson’s prowess, but you really couldn’t care at the moment.

He maintained his relentless pace, still chasing his own high.

“Love you so much Orson,” you murmured between kisses.

Almost immediately Orson groaned as you felt his release. You were a little surprised he hadn’t lasted as long as he usually did, but he already took care of you twice. You honestly wouldn’t have thought much of it, but he was deliberately avoiding your eye, almost self-consciously. You were puzzled for a second, but then your jaw dropped in sudden understanding.

“Did…” You tried to keep from grinning. “Did you just cum because I said I love you?”

“No,” he answered too quickly, straightening up.

Biting your lip to keep yourself from giggling, you racked your brain, trying to remember. “But I MUST have said I love you during sex before!”

“Apparently not,” he growled, tucking his shirt back in and still not looking at you. “You say it a lot during foreplay,” he added. He kept track?

“Orsoonn!” you cooed, holding his face and urging him back to you. “Please dont be embarrassed! That is literally the dorkiest—“

He rolled his eyes. “Sweetest, most romantic thing I think you’ve ever done.”

Reluctantly he let you kiss him, though he still seemed embarrassed.

“Look in the trunk,” he said, clearly trying to change she subject.

Still trying not to laugh, you pulled your dress back up and slid off the hood of the car. Your gown was absolutely soaked, you realized in chagrin, as you walked to the back of the Corvette. You’d have to figure something out before the gala. Orson popped the trunk remotely. Inside were your His and Hers overnight bags as well as an Antonio Grimaldi garment bag.

“What’s all this?” you asked, unzipping the garment bag. You inhaled sharply when you saw the gown inside. It was black with a structured trumpet bodice and white asymmetrical peplum overlay.

“Oh, it’s beautiful!” you exclaimed, looking up at Orson in delight.

He had resumed his usual bravado and was giving you his I’m-trying-not-to-smile smile that you loved so much. “This black dress is elegantly understated,” he said. “But I thought you might want options. Especially now,” he added, slapping your ass playfully. “You can change at the hotel.”

“Hotel?” you inquired.

“I got us a room at the Ritz. There’s no way I’m driving back tonight.”

“Get out of my brain!” you teased, tugging him to you by his still unbuttoned collar.

“Never,” he said giving you a quick peck on the cheek. “You’re stuck with me.”

**********

i actually built the car on the corvette website 🤣

and here is the dress orson has for reader! it very much gives star wars to me.

tag list! message me if youd like to be added. reblogs are love ! 🫶🏻

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