#twilek reader

Howzer had just came back from a swift mission, it wasn’t actually meant to be that quick, but it went successfully. He walked inside his cabin, one that you and he bought together—and took off his helmet. “Hey, I'm home!” He called out and ruffled his hair, trying to get it less greasy.

He glanced at the datapad on the table near the door, he smiled as he picked it up. he remembered that moment, when you both had just gotten together and one of his brothers insisted to take a photo of it.

He just realised you didn’t actually respond, he started walking into the bedroom, which was slipped open anyway. “Hey, cyare?” He asked and leant against the frame.

And wow, you looked absolutely magnificent, you were in a good-looking outfit, a formal one, at that. One he hadn’t seen before, along with jewellery adorning your lekku and forehead. He chewed at his lower lip before knocking on the metal.

“Special occasion?”

You whip your head around and smiled. “Howzer! I didn’t hear you get in, you’re home very early.” You walk up to him and press a soft peck to his lips, howzer wasn’t meant to be home until tomorrow morning. “Not that I’m complaining.”

He chuckled softly and rests a hand on your hip. “Yeah, we got what we needed faster than I expected. You… goin’ somewhere? You’re lookin’ good, not that you don’t all the time—just… very formal, y’know.”

“Ah, yeah. If i knew you were gonna be home I would’ve—wait, I think I have something!” You quickly rushed off to the side of your bed and rummaged through your drawer. Your hands looked through jewellery as they clanked around each other.

“So… mind tellin’ me what this is all about?” Howzer hummed and sat himself down on the bed, watching you rush around. He hadn’t even gotten home that long and you were already frantic. He tried to think hard, what could be going on?

“Yeah, sorry—getting ahead of myself,” you reply out of breath and your hands are cupped with different coloured accessories. “We’ve got a festival in town centre, today. a special one, a historical one.”

Howzer then lets out a long ‘oh’, and looked up. “Right, those ones are really important to you, aren’t they? Should’ve known…”

“Hey, don’t worry about it.” You sit down next to him and lean your head on his shoulder. “Would you come with me?”

“You want…” he glanced down at your face, slowly lifting it up with your chin. “I don’t think I’m very… dressed for the occasion, my love. as much as I’d love to go with you.”

You smiled and dropped the jewellery on the bed. you turned back to him and gripped his hands. “I’ve got plenty of things left over, I can put them on you, if you’d like?”

“The armour?” He huffed out an amused laugh. “Not exactly a great outfit to wear to something important.”

“I can buy you some clothes, there!” You reply passionately, you really wanted him to be there, it would mean the galaxy to you.

“I wouldn’t want you spending—“ Howzer stopped himself before speaking again, you wanted him at this festival and it sounded like he was making excuses. he took in a deep breath and nodded. “I’d love to go, then.”

“Great, I’m glad!” You grinned and stood up, you quickly grabbed a mirror and the jewellery, before sitting down behind him. “So, what style would you like?”

“Mm, you can choose, you’re the expert here,” he replied and fluttered his eyes shut as he felt your hands play with his hair. He felt the coldness of the silver touch his skin, giving him goosebumps.

“I’m really excited to see this on you,” you spoke softly as your hands tuck strands of hair behind accessories. “So soft…”

Around ten minutes later, you had finished and you grabbed the mirror again. you stared at him for a while, your eyes softened as you gazed at your jewellery on him, he looked gorgeous. “Open… tell me what you think.”

Howzer opened his eyes and blinked before looking into the mirror, he parted his lips, his fingers moving to trace the material. He actually thought of himself as good-looking.

“You can come with me in your blacks and I’ll get you something there, that sound good?” You asked and placed the mirror back in its place. You quickly adjusted your outfit and took a peek in the mirror to see Howzer taking off his armour pieces.

“Mhm, sounds great. Ready to go?” He asked as he took off the last of the plastoid, and he tucked them neatly under the bed. He looked up and noticed you staring at him, he smiled, taking your hand in his.

“Let’s,” you responded and squeezed his hand tightly. You both left your cabin and walked out to the festival. It was loud in the distance, but in a soothing way. There was a soft voice singing with a melodic tune behind it. there was cheering and talking, it was a friendly atmosphere.

One that howzer wasn’t used to, but it was a pleasant surrounding. He looked around to see twi’leks of all genders dressed in jumpsuits and dresses. Each one wearing jewellery on their lekku like yours.

And stalls covered the place, but not usual ones, more so ones that were there for the specialities. There were dessert ones, cultural objects, accessories and—

“Here!” You dragged him to the market where there were different outfits. there were robes, dresses, suits and jumpsuits. On the other side, it was skirts, shorts and trousers, along with different shirts.

“Incredible…” Howzer whispered and took in the detail of pattern on each clothe. “I don’t even know what to pick, or if it’d be right for me to." He turned his head to the elderly lady behind the stall, and she started speaking in a language he didn’t understand.

But he knew by the pronounced words and accent, that it was Ryl.

He turned to you and whispered. “Do you think you could tell me what’s she saying?”

You chuckled and nodded. “Of course! She knows you're nervous to try these clothes because of our culture, but she wants you to. We base everything on society and welcoming people into it.”

Howzer looked down at his boots and chuckled nervously, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s really… sweet. I’ll uh, take the one you think will suit me.”

You smiled and spoke back to the lady, speaking in twi’leki, you gave some hints of howzer’s personality and likes—but nothing you knew he wanted to keep secret. You nodded and looked back at him. “She’s got the perfect one.”

He nodded and glanced at you, you reply with a nod of your own and a jerk of your head. He hesitantly followed the other twi’lek into the tent behind them.

You leant against a crate, waiting for the pair of them, you were extremely excited to see how Howzer was going to look. You only ever saw him in blacks, armour or bare.

After what felt like ages, you heard footsteps and lifted your head up, and your breath stops in your throat.

There was Howzer, in a teal outfit that was crossed between a jumpsuit and a suit. Silver jewellery in places that looked amazing, it brought out his eyes. A lot.

You were interrupted from your staring when he started speaking, “so… how do I look?” He asked and gave a small three-sixty. His hands smoothing down the silk. It was so smooth, and nothing he had felt before, it was soothing to his skin. Breathable, even.

“Absolutely breathtaking,” you breathed out and took a few steps closer, getting a better look. “Yeah, you definitely suit that colour.”

“I’m glad, but uh… it looks really expensive, are you sure you want to get this?” He murmured quietly, blinking at the small crystals that were simultaneously placed along the fabric.

“Shh, just let me.” You grinned and placed the credits down, thanking the owner in Ryl. You then slip your arm into Howzer’s and walk him down the path.

“You spoil me too much,” he chuckled softly and gripped your arm tight, following your lead. He lifted his head up to look in the distance, couples and families surrounded the place, and they looked so joyful, something he didn’t get to see often, especially, not in this war.

You take notice of the silence and looked to Howzer’s line of sight. you hummed and leant your head in his shoulder. “It’d be nice to have kids, wouldn’t it?” You whispered.

The clone leant his lips to your lek and murmured gently. “Once, the war is over… I think I’d like to have children with you.” He slowly admitted, thinking it was the right time for it.

You sighed, and gazed at the children who were running in the distance, playing and laughing loudly. “Once, we’re safe.”

“When we’re safe,” he repeated and moved you over to a field where it seemed empty. He sat down and pulled you down with him. His hands cupped your face. “I would do anything to have a have a family with you, cyare. But circumstances are so…”

“I know,” you mumbled, leaning your forehead against Howzer’s, your hands held his wrists and you slowly flickered your gaze to him. “It’s the wrong time, it’s dangerous and it wouldn’t be fair.”

“We will, one day. I promise y'that,” he replied in a hushed tone. “I mean, you’re bringin’ me here. A festival that is so sacred to you and your people, and to let me be part of that? I’m forever honoured.”

“I’d bring you anywhere I’d go, Howzer. you’re so incredibly important to me,” you replied, you tilt your head down and bury it against his shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to his neck.

“If it was safe, I’d take you anywhere, too,” he murmured under his breath. but his missions could be fatal sometimes, he didn’t know what he’d do if he’d be the reason for your death in it.

There’s no use dwelling on it, he’d never let that happen.

His fingers traced against your skin and he jolted at a sudden loud bang that filled his ears. He lifted his head up and gripped you tightly, his eyes observing the perimeter. "What was that?

You saddened your eyes and pulled away, something so simple as fireworks could make him go into a fight-or-flight mindset. You quickly lifted up your head to the sky. Colourful explosions filled the night air above them. "Fireworks." You bring his head to your chest. "Part of the celebration."

Howzer's eyes are wide as the reds and oranges reflected against his irises, his mouth agape as he starts to ignore the noise all together and focus above him. It was like an animated canvas, and he could hear cheering in the background. Safe, it must be safe.

And it was so incredibly beautiful.

"They're so..."

"Magnificent?" You finished his sentence, your fingers playing with the baby hairs at the bottom of Howzer's head. You lean your chin against him, eyes glued above.

"Yeah... I've never seen anythin' like this before. It feels... weird, being able to sit through explosions for the purpose of them being pretty. Usually, I'm runnin' away," he chuckled in a self-deprecating way, his hands trembled, but he felt your touch, and that was enough.

Safe, you were both safe here.

You exhaled heavily and closed your eyes “I love you, ma sareen,” you whispered, your lips pressed against his temple.

Howzer fluttered his own eyes shut, letting the soft accent of your voice slither through his ears. He smiled and leant against the tip of your lek, murmuring against it.

“Next.” The commanding voice calls, echoing from the throne room. He sounds annoyed and you freeze, unable to take a step forward from where you stand at the top of the long, curved stairway. You’ve been shuffled through countless dictatorships, barely scraping by the previous reign only to be thrust into the next one. You’re bound by the neck, wrists and ankles as the heavy chains drag your posture down to a deplorable slump. A pair of Gamorreans each have their fist tightly coiled around a set of your steel leads. One acknowledges the voice at the bottom of the stairs, turns to the second and is momentarily displeased with your reluctance to walk. In conjunction, their forceful yank on your lead nearly gives you whiplash with how powerful a simple flick of their wrist could inflict.

Stumbling to the dusty palace floor, no matter how many times they knock you down, you never get used to the feeling of your perpetually bruised knees scraping across the unforgiving stone. The Gamorreans grumble and laugh at your indecency, looking down at you with their gluttonous, rotund bodies making you feel ever smaller. The scent of their pungent body odor stings your nostrils, and the burning brings a tear to your eye. Even without understanding a lick of their hog-like language, you can clearly surmise they’re talking about you, laughing at you. One of them even traces the tear falling down your cheek and feels pride in causing you pain, but they don’t know that it’s because you’re trying to resist the urge to vomit on their bare toes, lest you receive a worse punishment. You slap the dirty, sausage-fingered hand away from your face and the voice calls again. You rise to your feet. “I said next! I haven’t got all damn night!”

You and your chaperones, for lack of a better word, make the dreary trek down the carved staircase. With the help of the collar, you crane your neck downward, hanging your head so that your eyes are concealed by the ridiculous beaded headdress they fastened to your cranium, jingling like bells as if you’re nothing more than an object to be decorated. 

Your eyes remain glued to the floor as you watch the stairs transition to the flat throne room layout. Looking between the variations of footsteps imprinted on the thick buildup of sand, you can usually assume the types of people you would expect to be dealing with. Surprisingly, there seems to be a heavy presence of troopers of some kind as the majority of the prints are from the soles of boots and not bare feet or soft soled shoes. Has the empire made its way here once more?

“What’s the matter with you?” Before you even make it to the center of the room to be displayed like an item for sale, this new Daimyo halts the Gamorreans with an authoritative order. This is the first shred of humanity you’ve been graced with since you were forced to be kept behind these towering walls as property of the establishment and your first instinct is that it’s a ruse, immediately not trusting its tender concern announced through furious intolerance. “Get those off her. Now.”

You recoil away from the brutish pair, both clenched fists beneath your chin with your arms bent protectively in front of your chest. One of the Gamorreans strongly dislikes this display of yours as you’re woefully preventing him from fulfilling his orders. He pulls you forward forcibly by the lead. He raises his arm to strike you in a backhanded fashion and you flinch, prepared for the blow to land as you’ve felt many instances before. However, in the milliseconds it takes for him to swing, a singular illuminated bolt disrupts the air in the room with a fortified punch, a blaster whining from the throne’s direction.

You’re frozen in fear for who might have absorbed the shot, but no one falls. Warily looking up for the first time, your eyes focus on the pillar of smoke wafting from a charred perfect circle creating a window at the top of the Gamorrean’s cone shaped helmet. Judging by the way they’re trembling; this new Daimyo does not tolerate your mistreatment and you’re starting to think this isn’t a ruse after all.

A man clad head to toe in beskar is at the edge of his ornately decorated seat atop the elevated throne. The deep green hue of the plates encapsulates him within an armored exoskeleton accented with bright orange and dark red as his pistol’s barrel is still alight with evidence of discharge. You recognize the “T” visor as a trademark of a Mandalorian. You’ve only heard of them as legends, one of the most renowned being Boba Fett as this used to be his old stomping ground alongside Jabba. Alas, that was well before your time. If this man is anything like him, you’re hopeful to assume that he is one of respect, morality and most importantly, honor.

“Unhand her immediately.” His voice is slightly warped by his modulator, turning his inflection downward and intimidating. Petrified of this mysterious man’s impeccable aim, the Gamorreans save face and scurry to their posts without bothering to unlock your shackles, flanking the entrance you had just emerged from to await further instruction. “Step forward please, dear. It’s alright.”

Ferociously dehydrated and nervous, you swallow harshly in your dry throat. The lack of visibility of his eyes keeps you on your guard. You can usually judge a person’s intentions with you by where their eyes land on your polychromatic body. Your skin is a vibrant shade that falls between golden yellow and fiery orange with deep carmine markings and pale accents. The “uniform” they’ve kept you in for years is a poor excuse for a swimsuit if it can even be called that. Except, instead of being made out of stretchy, breathable material, you’re imprisoned in your very own cage of garments that dig into your flesh. Serendipitously, your only encouraging outlook on this attribute was that you’ve grown calluses where previous blisters and bruises used to be. This man can sense the trepidation in your hesitant motions. You remain clinging to the chains now dangling from your neck to the floor, prepared to use them as weapons if you must.

He rises from the throne, armor singing as he stands and scrapes against the surface. You flinch again at this sudden movement, and he stops himself, approaching you as if he would coax a wounded animal to accept his aid. You choose not to take another step, waiting for him to close the distance. He does, slowly and cautiously, taking each step more calculated than the last. Once descended, you keep your head downturned as you’ve been trained to do so, refusing to even attempt finding his eyes behind that visor. The closer he gets, you can hear him subtly hum at you, but not in the usual objectifying hum you’re used to hearing. This is a hum of rage.

The man nods disapprovingly and reaches into one of his many pouches fastened to his waist belt and takes out a compact ring with shackle keys. “I’m going to take these off now. Is that alright?”

Lifting your chin so that he can access the constraints, you give yourself a headache straining to avoid his eyes. Your chest rises and falls rapidly as he hovers ever so gently trying consciously hard to not touch you. Relief overcomes you as each hefty shackle and string of chains is discarded into a pile at your feet. Momentarily closing your eyelids in bliss, you bask in the glory that is finally being rid of the weight that’s done nothing but chain you down physically and psychologically for many years. You’re rubbing out the discomfort from your neck and wrists when his eclipsing shadow being cast on you creeps up to your eyelids and you’re made painfully aware of how close he really is. 

Both eyes fly open, and you want to backpedal, but you feel a gloved hand at the small of your back stopping you from moving, or more accurately, tripping over the pile of restraints. “Easy there, princess.” He says softly, the words landing as delicately as he holds you. “How’s that feel? Better?”

“B-better.” You manage to croak the word through cracked lips at the same time a heavily armed woman enters the space. She’s dressed in all black with accents of orange as well, carrying various rifles, blaster pistols and cache boxes of ammunition. She finds your line of sight and raises a brow in amusement before returning to whatever it is she’s doing. 

“New toy?” The woman remarks about you with a chuckle and the man says nothing, releasing his hold after stabilizing you and only turning his head to face his helmet in her direction, glaringly vexed by her commentary. “Apologies…”

She corrects herself with a humored smile without even a hint of fearing for her life. No one is making a move to execute her where she stands. Would this suggest that they’re associates of some sort? Maybe even equals?

“Fennec, postpone my remaining appointments and run a bath for our new guest in my chambers. Have the kitchens prepare supper. I need to have a chat with my guards for a moment.” The man raises an arm and waves once. She nods gracefully and offers you her hand, gloved in soft but worn leather as well. As you walk with her, you look over your shoulder to see the Daimyo step closer to the pair of Gamorreans that had ample tenure tormenting you, ordering them both to their knees before the sight is blocked by a corridor Fennec has led you through.

You know your way around these halls well enough and end up leading Fennec to the main chambers as she’s still learning the layout of this labyrinthine palace. “If not for you, I would have gotten lost on the way.”

“I’ve been here long enough, I could probably build an exact replica, not that I would want to...” You shrug, stomach slightly churning in anticipation of being up here again. Being cleaned and fed often comes at a cost. You’re not looking forward to seeing that armored man again, at least until you get some more information. “So… what does that guy want with me?”

“Well, Boba’s the kind of person to always lend a hand to someone in need, and you seem to fit the bill this time around.” Fennec opens the door to the Daimyo’s chambers, and you recognize all the gaudy embellishments have been removed, giving the interior design a much more tranquil and less pretentious ambiance. The balcony doors are open letting the cool dusk breeze in and the sky is just barely forming a darkened gradient of colors to welcome the coming night as the Twin Suns fall past the horizon.

“Wait… Boba? As in Fett?” You question Fennec in disbelief.

“Is there any other?” Fennec responds sarcastically, a smug look on her face. “He’s presiding over Mos Espa and Tattooine now. What, have you been living under a rock?”

“I’m a slave.” You scoff. “I don’t exactly get exclusive access to current events.”

“Well, it’s a good thing those days are over.” Fennec opens another set of double doors to the refresher room. A nearby cabinet has various pairs of clean clothes of different sizes, and she retrieves a set and puts it on a nearby countertop before turning the knobs to allow the crisp, clean water to flow into the large basin. “These clothes should fit you fine. How do you like your bath? Lukewarm? Hot? Scalding?”

“Can I do it?” The question is pathetic, as if at this point you wouldn’t be allowed to do anything you want. You’re in shock at this revelation of who your savior is, but the conditioning you’ve suffered thus far makes controlling your bath water temperature the only amount of freedom you can handle for now. 

“Go nuts.” Fennec sees the desperation in your eyes, not even able to imagine what you must be going through. With eyebrows knit in a look of solidarity, she softly smiles, squeezing your shoulder before heading out to close the door after her. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Alone once again, except this solitary moment is that of peace rather than isolation. You breathe in deeply, nearly letting your emotions flow just as easily as this faucet, but you hold it in a while longer. You begin to unclasp every piece of this cursed attire and toss it into a nearby bin to be thrown out with the rest of the palace’s refuse. The climb into the tub is gradual as your body acclimates to the warmth of the water. Nearby are some tin canisters of scented salts and dried herbs. Knowing you must smell like a bantha’s sty, you toss a handful of each into the water and let the aromatherapy work its magic.

After a long while of soaking, the arid desert climate that once dried your skin out has been completely rejuvenated. You’re tenderly massaging your lekku, rinsing the suds off as one of the butler droids in the palace’s employ comes barging into the room. You shrink yourself, hiding behind the frontmost wall of the tub while holding your breath under the water. You hear the droid let out a few muffled beeps and chirps followed by the angered yet familiar correctional voice of Boba telling it to respect your privacy and to leave whatever it brought you on the table in the main room, not where you’re currently bathing.

The doors slam shut, and you wait in silence for a second before emerging from the water. Taking advantage of the window of opportunity, you leap from the tub, splashing water on the floor as you race to dry off and get dressed. Before even thinking about leaving, you make note of the mess you made and drain the water while also collecting the puddle on the floor with the towel you used to dry yourself. Boba knocks once but you don’t respond, so used to people just walking in. He knocks again and asks, “Are you decent?”

“Yes.” You shortly and flatly call back. The puddle is only half cleaned, and you haven’t had time to rinse out the evidence of using the salts and herbs down the drain. You tightly wring the towel in your hands, frightened of discarding it elsewhere as Boba walks in.

“Were you trying to clean in here?” Boba asks, confused by your timid posture and state of disarray in the room.

“I’m sorry. I know I didn’t finish in time. I didn’t want you to see this mess and think I’m just-”

“Whoa, slow down, little one.” Boba’s visor is fogged up by the steam in the room and he opts to remove his helmet, setting it on the empty tub’s edge. His skin is a warm and welcoming shade of tan, albeit heavily scarred adding to his distinguished handsomeness. “We have droids for that. When I said you’re my guest, I meant it.”

Boba takes the towel from your hands, wiping his leathered palms clean with it. You notice a crimson residue soaking into the cloth, quite literally bleeding into the threads from where he swipes the discolored smudges off his gauntlets and chest plate. Locking eyes with you, he winks before wrapping an armored arm around your shoulders, opening the door to the chambers with the other. You see what it is that the droid had brought in, and your jaw practically drops to the floor with all the things on display.

Multiple crystal pitchers of flavored water, wine and juices line the center of the table. Surrounding the pitchers are various main courses of steaming hot dishes with desserts, nuts, cheeses and fruits lining the outside. Boba looks at you with a grin, beckoning you to enjoy yourself but notices the presence of your hesitation again. “Something the matter? Is it not to your liking? I can put a special request to the chefs if you’d prefer-”

“What do you want from me?” You interrupt him, all brightness and enthusiasm in your mood has reverted back into your standoffish guard, arms folded over your chest again.

“Absolutely nothing.” His umber eyes are sincere as you study them without the obstruction of the helmet in the way. “You’re free.”

“You mean, I can just leave?”

“If that is what you wish.”

“I… I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Then you are welcome to stay.” 

He steps forward and pulls a chair away from the little dining table holding all the delectable cuisines. Your stomach’s churn switches from that of nervousness and trepidation to overbearing hunger and thirst. Accepting his seat, he pours you a refreshing goblet of flavored water with the essence of hydrating citrus and mint. Having been so parched, you gulp down the drink in no time flat, gasping for air from the now empty glass. Boba refills you, taking a seat at the opposite side of the table to fill his own glass with wine, holding out the pitcher to you but you don’t accept, at least not at first.

Boba loads his plate, spooning different foods and sauces and grilled meats onto it while preparing yours with all the same goods. He reaches over and places it in front of you and you can’t wait to dig in. He’s a man of few words and doesn’t pressure to fill the empty air with small talk. He allows you to eat as much as you like, offering you seconds and thirds of your favorites before moving on to the many tasty looking fresh baked desserts and fragrant ripe fruits.

You’re finally nearing the end of your meal, stuffed and pleasantly satisfied as you rise from the table to join Boba on the balcony overlooking the extensive city. You’re comfortable in these new clothes, cozy even. You feel safe here with him. Usually things like alcohol are forced upon you, but before joining Boba, you pour yourself a little after-dinner glass of the same wine he is drinking.

“I want to repay you for your mercy, your hospitality.” You break the silence, formally speaking to him as you would address any other Daimyo while periodically taking sips of the wine. It’s a delicious flavor, sweet but not overbearingly so with a hint of smokey, nuttiness. Exactly the type you would expect Boba to be partial to.

“Not necessary.” He sighs, certain and unyielding. “You’re your own citizen now.”

“I just want to maybe… show you how much I appreciate this good turn you’ve done for me.” You step closer, stroking your nails against the steel chest plate, but Boba stops your advances with a firm hand around your wrist.

“That’s really not required of you.” He is stern. A real no nonsense character, letting go of your wrist before creating distance between you again. “What I did for you does not require a transactional offering on your part. I was simply making a wrong thing right.”

“By killing them?” You can’t just pretend you didn’t see all that blood on the towel, small droplets still staining his beskar. Boba stands up straighter, removing himself from your personal space so that he can concisely explain himself. 

“I gave them a choice and they didn’t choose wisely. I couldn’t risk your safety by letting them live.” He delivers that last word with a grimace. Boba’s frustration appears in clenched fists and protruding veins across his brow line. You’re not opposed to the fact he laid waste to scum like them, you’re just awestruck with the fact that he would do that for someone like you. “I will not possess you as the others have.”

“But, I’m serious about not having any prospects. No home, no family. All I know are these palace walls.” You degradingly admit, criminally sheltered for as long as you could remember.

“Hmm… Is that so?” Boba ponders the benefit of having someone who knows this place like the back of their hand.

“Can I be like your friend?” You propose.

“Fennec?” He’s taken aback. “You know how to fight?”

“Well…no.” You inch closer once again and rest a hand on his belt, venturing to move downward where you trace the outline of his groin. “But I can provide you with other services that still involve me holding a smoking barrel.”

Boba distances himself, stops you again as he nervously clears his throat, unsure if he’s sent you mixed signals. “I’ll not make you do anything you’re uncomfortable with. I would surmise that you’ve had enough of that already.”

“After a rescue like that, there’s no one else I’d rather do this for.” You add, further convincing Boba that you’re completely free and willing to participate in this arrangement.

“These services.” He clears his throat, voice falling into a deep resonance. “What variety are you suggesting?”

“The stress relieving kind.” Your body language ensures that Boba is making no mistake about what you’re implying. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t even move away this time, allowing you to proceed as you please. It’s only then that you notice he’s completely stationary, fretful even. You pause to revert your focus back to his dark, serious eyes. Thinking proactively, you hoist yourself on the edge of the broad sandstone balcony so that you can enjoy the illusionary splendor of being technically taller than him. Boba’s eyebrows raise once more at this daring show of yours, softening from serious to slightly amused, not speaking yet.

“You know, Boba, it’s perfectly normal to be lonely sometimes.” You lean towards him, brushing your shoulder against his beskar pauldrons. You expected to feel a shiver ripple down your spine when in contact with his refined steel, but it’s almost as if his body heat has had time to radiate through all his layers. Boba lifts his chin in your direction, slowly slipping under your hypnotic spell. He parts his lips when you hover yours over them, desperate and willing to taste the wine on your tongue. 

“H-how did you know that I’m lonely?” Boba whispers the words, as if ashamed to admit it.

“Anyone living their life the way you do would be.” Without letting him wait any longer, you delicately brush your lips against his. Boba breathes into it, holding the kiss for a moment as one of his hands comes up to grasp the space of your head where your lekku meet your nape. He strokes the skin gingerly and sweet, pulling you closer by the back of your neck.

 Boba is the first to break contact, tucking his chin to press his forehead to yours while keeping you nearby. He soaks up this moment of silence with you until he notices that you’re unfastening the clasps in the front of your linen sleep shirt. “You don’t have to be lonely tonight. Or any night ever again.”

“I think you underestimate the amount of stress I have to deal with, princess.” Boba finishes your mission to take off your shirt, exposing you to the glorious starry sky before the trio of moons could illuminate the pitch black canopy. “If I’m reading this arrangement correctly, my requirement for relief will come at all hours… not just at night.”

Boba side-steps, parting your knees to nestle himself between your legs, pressing his chest against yours. The chills you expected to feel earlier come in full force when that steel plate falls flush with your skin, even colder when you’re hit with a high altitude breeze and you want nothing more than for him to pick you up and tackle you into the plush, warm bed. “Think you can handle that, little one?”

“Hey!” You playfully object. “I’m not that little.”

“To me you are.” Boba’s patience has worn thin, opting to lift you off the edge with his tremendously strong grip as you giggle in his grasp when he makes you feel practically weightless. With both arms wrapped around his neck, you’re hoisted with your thighs laying along the length of his forearm bracers, his hands possessively grabbing fistfuls of what he’s about to make his. He traces the curvature of your glutes with his fingers, drawing a full picture through your clothes to appease his imagination. His prickly stubble grazes your chest just mere inches from your nipples and you pull him closer, smothering him with your breasts.

He groans into the softness of each perky mound, his mouth opening again to lick and suckle on your skin. You caress the back of his head while moaning in bliss as his tongue explores your sweet, clean essence. He plants kisses up your throat and along your collar bones as he walks you over to the bed, careful enough to navigate seamlessly the whole way there.

Tossing you down, you bounce against the sheets, pillows catching air for a second beside your head as Boba hurriedly begins to remove all portions of his armor. The mechanical clicking and whirring of his computerized features audibly sound off upon removal. You watch as Boba takes off every piece and proudly places them upon a minimalistic mannequin made more for safe keeping rather than ostentatious advertisement until he’s wearing nothing but his tasteful black textile flight suit. With your bottom lip caught between your teeth, Boba approaches the edge of the bed and takes shimmies out of his traditionally pleated shirt, letting it fall off his shoulders to further show his battle worn torso. He’s marked significantly with scar tissue, curves and lines and shiny burned patches, you couldn’t even fathom what could have possibly caused so much damage. It isn’t until you hear his voice you realize you’ve been caught staring. “Do I… disturb you?”

“What? No! Of course not!” You speak up, waving your palms at him as a sign of sincerity. “I’m sorry. I was only admiring.”

“Admiring huh?” Boba looks himself over, flexing his muscles when he brings his arms forward for inspection. “You like this?”

He advances by resting a knee on the bed, not yet climbing on but awaiting your response. He sees the way your eyes brighten up when he’s teasing, allowing you to control the pacing of this exchange. “Very much so, yes.” 

Boba lifts his other knee onto the bed and crawls towards you. His brawny weight displaces the cushions and rocks you back and forth a little, adding more flutters to your already volitant heart. With you both shirtless, he supports himself on his palms as you move yourself into laying down on your back. “What about this?”

As he beckons that question, he leans in to kiss your neck again, dragging the tip of his tongue across your jaw while he parts your legs with his. He decides to test your mettle and see how you react when one of his kisses is actually a short series of nibbles gradually forming a fierce love bite. 

Unable to properly enunciate, you loudly gasp when his teeth clench around your flesh, letting your moans act as confirmation as his mouth makes its way to yours. You straddle his waist, interlocking your ankles behind his back and Boba’s enthusiasm spikes. His tongue enters your mouth, fighting with your own as you both struggle to remove each other’s bottom half of clothing. Boba hooks your shorts with a couple of fingers and strips them off your legs while you loop his waistband with your big toe and extend your leg to pull them down.

He rubs his groin against yours with a swivel of his hips, stroking your center with his scorching hot length that’s been begging to be freed since you both were still at the balcony. He’s far bigger than you expected, not that you weren’t totally convinced Boba was incredibly well endowed. You just could have never predicted he was blessed that well. Using the slick moisture you’ve accumulated between your thighs, you grab hold of his shaft and begin stroking it energetically, paying careful attention to his bulbous tip with fun little swipes across it. All the while he’s letting you feel him, he’s playing with your swollen bud at the cusp of your leaking center, poking and prodding a girthy finger inside between savory swipes of your sensitivity.

Boba breaks the kiss, gasping for breath when you milk his cock for its initial dribbles of precum and mix it with your arousal, adding to the smooth gliding of your palm against him. He joins his forehead with yours a second time, sharing your breath as you both pleasure each other. His eyes open and he takes you in, half-lidded and slack jawed while still hovering closely. You’re glowing under the warm candlelight as the flames cast their shine on your blazing skin and he’s careful not to crush your lekku, pushing them out of his way each time he adjusts. His fingers disappear past your amber skin and you arch into his hand, whining as he drives himself deeper and deeper.

Boba straightens his back, sitting on his knees to watch your euphoric expressions as he slowly retrieves his fingers from your throbbing pussy, loving to see you wriggle and writhe before he puts the same pair of digits into his mouth to lick them clean. You’re stunned by his ability to make you feel more than wanted. He’s patient, involved, focused on nothing but you.

Once finished tasting you, his smile grows in size as well as mischief when he halts your stroking to spiritedly flip you over onto your stomach. Boba runs his hands down your back, both thumbs pointed at your spine and you feel your muscles decompress with every pass. His hands travel lower and lower, massaging the meat of your ass and even your thighs while you remain spread out on your stomach.

Just when you’re falling into a state of relaxation you’ve never known before, Boba lifts one of his hands in the air and collides it sharply with your right cheek. It’s not enough to hurt, but enough to urge you to arch upwards into the slap, non verbally begging for more as you groan loudly into the pillows.

“You like this too, eh princess?” Boba raises his left hand now, crashing it down on the opposite cheek and you yelp when it makes contact. He continues, alternating between each hand to hear you emit a melody of moans and vocalizations. You can’t wait a second more, positioning your knees beneath you to put your ass further in the air.

“Please, just fuck me already...” You sway your hips in offering and Boba accepts, anchoring one hand on your left hip while the opposite is guiding his tip into you. Opening you up, he parts your walls gradually as you feel his girth spread you inch by gratifying inch. The realization of who you’re sharing this intimate exchange with hits you in a second wind and a swarm of quivering butterflies disrupts your stomach. You sing your song of pleasure through wanton breaths and gasping mewls with every thrust Boba administers. In tandem with your wondrous music, he plants a persistent cadence of groans and grunts, gaining ferocity.

“You’re remarkable, princess.” Boba reaches around and manages to pull another orgasm from you with consistent and circular pressure applied to your bulbous bud while not even slacking in thrusts. Your limbs tense up and you’re unable to tame the staggering rapture that throttles through you. Boba takes the strain off you by pushing you harder into the bed, likewise, holding you in place while reducing the effort required to keep yourself up. Your face is turned to the side to allow for a proper flow of breath with Boba securing a palm to the nape of your neck and the other gripping and squeezing tightly at your hip. Each line of Boba’s praising dialogue is uttered through quaking gruffness. “I love your beautiful voice.”

Unable to move in any other way than wobbling your hips, you absorb the shock of Boba’s pounding. You can tell he’s surprised by your involvement, releasing his grip on you and letting you do the work for him at times. His manly groans and grunts morph into breathless whimpers when you begin to throw it back as hard as you possibly can for him. As much as Boba loves seeing you taking charge, he’s not certain he can last much longer with the way you’re flailing beneath him. His hands stop your movement and holds you in place, resuming the same speed within his own thrusts so as to not disrupt his impending climax. 

“Hold on tight, little one.” Boba’s voice is sultry and alluring as it is poured into your ears like honey. He speaks to you with prudence, stroking your back in a loving fashion just as things are kicked into high gear. You grab fistfuls of the sheets in hopes that it would keep you from moving too much, but Boba’s slamming into you at a pace that is impossible to keep up with. You’re dizzy with the constant and vigorous motion, cross-eyed with a crooked grin plastered on your face as he repetitively drives himself into your wet, pillowy crevices. He’s feeling every part of you with worshipful affection while squeezing your ripples of flesh and letting out robust exhaled grunts.

Suddenly, Boba slumps over you. His face finds its way into the crook of your neck after he methodically lifts your face from the bed with a swift motion of his palm cupping your chin. You whine when his middle finger finds its way into your mouth, wrapping your lips around it so that you can bite down every time Boba slams himself against your ass. With his body weight laid completely across you, he’s compressed you in a pleasure filled prone position. His thrusts falter as he finishes inside you, claiming you as his with more bites to your back and shoulders while the gushing between your thighs pours out and onto the topmost sheet in a warm, delicious ooze.

Boba doesn’t stop there. Keeping you laid down, he raises your hips off the bed a little more while adjusting his posture to accommodate for watching it gush out of you. He’s lifted himself off you, sitting on his knees again to pull himself completely out, watch it drip, then shoving his still erect cock back inside, groaning through drool coated lips each time he does so. He’s watching the milky white glaze flow from your bergamot skin like a decadent dreamsicle, sweet and creamy.

You’ve lost count of the cycles of ravishment he’s put you through, dazed and unable to move on your own accord. Boba exits you, allowing you to finally rest and catch your breath. He gets off the bed and retrieves a blue satin robe and a clean towelette from a nearby drawer before returning back at your side. He mindfully flips you over on your back and away from the messy puddle you both created. Using the towelette, he wipes you clean and thoroughly and takes the topmost sheet off the bed, leaving you with the quilted comforter and other fur-woven throw blankets. After cleansing himself, Boba climbs back into bed with you, noticing just how exhausted you really were when he sees you about to doze off. “Sleepy, little one?”

“I think all that food is finally catching up to me.” You mumble as he pulls you onto his chest, wrapping his arms around you so that you may sleep while listening to his heartbeat.

“You and I both, princess.” He chuckles, causing your head to slightly rattle with his laughter. “You and I both.”

The tired burn in your dry eyes has finally been satiated once you’ve closed them for good tonight. Boba’s breath tickles your lekku in a way that’s as soothing as a person running their fingers through someone else’s hair. It causes you to fall asleep much faster than you usually do, completely skipping the episodes of existential dread and inescapable fear. Your dreams are pleasant, full of sunshine and flowers, a lapping ocean and the smell of flora native to Ryloth. You’re unsure how he did it, but Boba’s kindness has psychologically teleported you to a time before you knew what suffering was; before you became imprisoned on Tattooine. If you were awake right now, you’re sure you would weep.

The chirp of a comm device interrupts the few hours of deep slumber you gained. The room is darkened save for the rays of light rippling in the curtains emitting from the brilliant moons outside. Boba reaches over to grab the device, stopping it from resounding any more beeps thinking it’ll disturb you, not knowing you’ve been up since the first chirp.

You play along with his sweet gestures, not knowing a compassion such as this before. He lifts your arm by the wrist and lays the limp appendage at your side. Careful not to make you fall with his displacement, he moves one of the fluffy pillows where he was laying for you to rest on. Boba wraps himself in the satin robe and tip-toes to freshen himself up and you hear the faucet turn on behind closed doors. In the time it takes him to shower, you nearly fall asleep again, stirring when he reemerges. He doesn’t notice you got startled so you keep your eyes closed, feigning sleep a little while longer. You watch him suit up, taking special care of each and every aspect of his armor just as he has with you. He’s a thoughtful, measured individual and you couldn’t be happier here in this tower with someone you actually want to be with.

“I’m on my way.” He discreetly responds to a feminine voice on the other line, you correctly assume it to be Fennec. He treads stealthily, silent as each footfall is completely inaudible. You watch him make his way towards the exit door with his back turned to you. With his helmet under one arm, he reaches for the door handle and pulls it open. But before he could take a single step outside, you perk up in the bed with the comforter wrapped around you like an impromptu sleeveless dress.

“Not even a goodbye kiss?” You rub one of your eyes, drowsy and missing him already.

“Dear princess, I thought you were fast asleep.” Boba answers, no longer feeling the need to whisper.

“I’m a light sleeper.” You shrug. “Been up since before the shower.” 

Boba walks towards you, grasps your chin to get a better look at your golden eyes shining in the moonlight and then pets your head. He trails the same hand down the lekku on your left and begins to lean.

“I’m sorry for disturbing you.” Boba bends over to kiss your forehead and then your lips. “But you should go back to sleep. I’m expecting you to be ready to go again when I return at first light.”

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