Tazmbc1

Home is the only place where he can stop being Commander Fox for a little while.

Thorn always notices immediately. "You look less homicidal." Fox just rolls his eyes and ignores him. "That's because you're going home tonight," Thorn continues with a grin. "Your reset button lives in that apartment."

 Fox tells him to get back to work. 

After a particularly difficult week, Fox becomes embarrassingly clingy without meaning to.

 He'll follow you from room to room under increasingly weak excuses.

 You're folding laundry? He leans against the doorway, watching.

 You're making caf? Suddenly he needs caf too.

You're watering plants? Apparently that's fascinating. 

 Eventually you catch him doing it.

 "Fox."

 "What?"

"You're following me."

 "No, I'm not."

 He absolutely is.

He loves physical affection far more than people would ever expect.

 Not in public and not around his men.

 But at home?

 He wants an arm around your waist while you're cooking. He wants your hand in his. He wants to rest his forehead against yours while you're both half asleep.

 Sometimes he doesn't even want conversation. Just contact.

Cuddling is his favorite thing in the entire galaxy.

 He would deny this under torture. But it's true.

 After long days, he'll practically melt into the mattress the moment you pull him into bed.

 One arm wrapped tightly around your waist,  face buried against your shoulder, breathing slowing almost immediately.

Fox secretly loves cooking with you.

 He's surprisingly good at it too.

 Reads recipes exactly, measures ingredients correctly.

 Meanwhile, you're tossing things into the pan based entirely on instinct.

 It horrifies him. "That isn't a measurement."

 "It is."

 "No, it isn't."

 "I've made this a hundred times."

 He still watches nervously until dinner is finished.

If you own a tooka, a dog, or any kind of pet, Fox pretends he isn't attached.

 He is. Completely.

 The pet adores him.

 Which annoys him because he has spent years cultivating a terrifying reputation. 

Nothing destroys that reputation faster than a small animal curling up in his lap.

Some mornings, he'll volunteer to walk your pet before you even wake up.

Mostly because it gives him a quiet hour where nobody is demanding reports, requesting authorization, or creating emergencies.

 Just him, the sunrise, and a very happy animal trotting beside him.

When he's particularly stressed, he'll sit beside you on the couch and simply lean against you. Just quietly seeking comfort.

 If you start playing with his hair or scratching lightly at the back of his neck, he's gone. Completely relaxed within minutes.

Thorn catches onto this, too.

 "You know, lots of people meditate to relax."

 Fox doesn't look up from his datapad.

 "I might."

 "No. You just go home and get cuddled.

 "Thorn."

 "That's your meditation."

The Coruscant Guard is used to seeing their commander tired. They're used to seeing him stressed. They're used to seeing him grumpy.

The rare occasions they see him after he's had a weekend with you are genuinely alarming.

 He's calmer, more patient.  Less likely to threaten paperwork-related violence.

 One trooper once remarked that you should receive an official Guard commendation for maintaining operational readiness.

More than anything, Fox loves the normal moments.

 Cooking dinner together, walking through Coruscant markets, falling asleep on the couch halfway through a holo, listening to you talk about your day while he quietly unwinds.

 His entire life is built around responsibility, pressure, and impossible expectations.

So the thing he treasures most isn't grand gestures.

It's coming home, seeing you there, and knowing for a few precious hours he doesn't have to carry the weight of the galaxy alone.

"Is that all, General?" Fox hissed, the tone unintentionally softened by the vocoder in his helmet.

"Yes, Commander. You are dismissed."

Professional as ever, Fox thought, huffing as he turned to leave.

You had been stationed with the Coruscant Guard for a couple weeks now due to some injury that left you unable to be at the frontlines temporarily. At least that was the information Fox had received when you arrived at the base and hadn't left since.

You were effective, he had to give you that. You wrote reports faster than anyone he's ever seen, you went after criminals without much fanfare, and you rejected more requests from senators than even he dared.

And you had been realiable too, always appearing on time and coming prepared to every meeting Fox arranged, no matter how last minute.

Fox hated it.

Hated how you wandered the halls with that emotionless face of yours, hands clasped behind your back, and always muttering about "The will of the Force" whenever another mission failed and brothers didn't return.

In his eyes, you were just another stupid natborn he had to deal with who thought themselves better than all of his brothers just because you had been handed a rank without even working for it.

And worst of all, you kept questioning his methods and had the power to override them as a general. Yes, his ways weren't practical or efficient but they were necessary to keep everyone safe.

Yes, there was a strict rationing of food but who knew when they'd get their next shipment?

Yes, he didn't allow painting armour individually but how else could he keep senators from identifying them?

Yes, they had to go everywhere in pairs but that was so no one could be cornered alone somewhere by a natborn.

Every single rule Fox had imposed had its reason, no matter how much it made anyone outside the Guard eye them with sceptisism. And you were like a parasite invading their safe space.

Just another natborn.

Fox tried to give you the benefit of the doubt, you were supposed to be a nice jedi but anytime one of his troops even tried to be friendly, you brushed them of. Any of their greetings were met with a polite but silent bow from the jedi and you always ate alone, no matter how many times you were invited.

Maybe you just hated them too, like everyone else.

Still, you hadn't yet been outright hostile to them and that was more than Fox could say about most natborns and as much as he disliked your attitude and how much he tended catastrophise, you weren't all that bad.

And Fox realised that when one evening, you didn't turn up for a meeting. And then you didn't show up for the next either. Or for another two things on your schedule.

He caught himself worrying, a tight feeling in his chest as another attempt to contact you failed. Even locating you through your comm was impossible when it was found abandoned in your quarters.

————————

Rain pattered down onto your skin and a shiver ran through you as you tried to rub your arms and bring some warmth back into your body.

You had found some maintenance alcove that had been forgotten between Coruscant's endless infrastructure. One where the hum of the ventilations system drowned out every other sound, including your ragged breathing.

"It's the will of the Force," you whispered to yourself, the words hollow and useless as they left your lips. They had been the foundation of your walls so long, a wall that you could erect between yourself and the chaos of the galaxy.

You should get up and find your way back to the base before you got sick. You knew you should. But your limbs felt too heavy and your mind spun.

Your battalion was on Felucia again and you hadn't heard from them in six rotations. The last report had been brief and fragmented; showing casualties, the movement of the enemy,…

All standard things and you knew your commander was comepetent but—

But you should have been there. You were their general.

Instead you were here on Coruscant, playing politics while your men died in that green hell. Guilt had been building in your chest day by day and today your composure just crumbled.

The nail in the coffin had been when you saw a shiny limp past your office with a bandaged leg, stabbed by a civilian during a routine patrole. A shiny, who should still have the positive energy and drive to better his surroundings. And his eyes hadn't even been angry, he had been so exhausted.

The same exhaustion you saw everywhere in the base that you hadn't seen on the frontlines. You saw it in the way the guard moved, efficiently and quietly but with a heaviness that spoke of too many shifts and too few hours of sleep. You saw it in the ration bars that tasted of nothing and contained less calories than they should. You saw it in the silence of their mess hall where brothers should be laughing and not sitting in muted company, checking behind each others backs regularly.

You had seen war, you had see the worst of it on the frontlines with clones dying and being torn apart by explosions as the screams of the injured filled the air. But this was different. A different kind of war that involved the slow, grinding erosion of the soul.

And the Corries were fighting with no support. No one saw their misery. No one cared.

And what have you done for them?

Nothing. You had criticized Fox's methods without understanding them. You had kept your distance because it was easier than acknowledging them because that meant seeing that they were dying slowly on a planet that should have been the safest in the galaxy.

You had hidden behind the Force like a coward instead.

Your chest tightened again, the familiar pressure of anxiety building behind your ribs. You pressed your palms flat against the cold floor, trying to ground yourself, trying to remember the breathing exercises you had learned as a youngling.

In... hold... out...

It wasn't working.

In... hold... out...

"It's the will of the Force," you tried again, and this time it came out as a sob.

————————

Grizzer found you first. Hound had been trying to track you under Fox's orders and the massiff's keen senses had led her through the underlevels with an unerring instinct that Hound had learned to trust implicitly. She was a good girl, the best girl, and when she started whining and pulling at her leash with unusual urgency, Hound had followed without question.

Now he understood why.

"Grizzer, hey girl," your voice was soft, almost gentle. Nothing like the cold and distant tone that Hound had come to know. He froze as he watched you scratch the head of the excited massiff as she nuzzled against your chest.

"General…?" His voice was uncertain as he looked at you sitting on the floor, robes damp, hair plastered to your forehead, and eyes that looked like… "You have been crying."

Your eyes snapped up to meet his, a smile forming on your face that didn't quite reach your eyes. "I'm fine, Sergeant. Just needed some air."

"In the underlevels?" Hound's scepticism was evident even through his helmet's modulator. "In the middle of a rainstorm? General, with respect, that's nonsense."

Before you could reply, another set of boots splashed through the puddles behind Hound. Thorn materialized out of the grey drizzle, his red-striped armour gleaming wetly in the dim light. He took one look at the scene; Hound hovering uncertainly, Grizzer wagging her tail as she pressed against your side, and you looking like a drowned tooka that had been dragged through a sewer, and sighed.

"Fox is going to lose his mind," Thorn muttered, already reaching for his comm. Then he stopped, his hand hovering over the device as he looked at you more closely.

You were trying to stand now, using the wall for support, and your movements were stiff. Not injured-stiff, but cold-stiff. Your lips had a faint blue tinge that had nothing to do with your species and everything to do with how long you'd been sitting in the damp.

"You're coming with us," Thorn said, and it wasn't a request.

You bowed your head but followed, the massiff staying close to you at all times during the silent walk back to the base. When you arrived, your teeth were chattering and your carefully constructed mask was hanging on by a thread.

They ushered you into your office, sitting you down onto your chair before disappearing for a moment. Hound came back first with a thermal blanket, wrapping it around your shoulders.

Thorn returned moments later with a steaming mug. "Here's some caf to warm up. Or well, whatever command is trying to pass of as caf."

You wrapped your hands around the mug, the warmth immediately seeping into your frozen fingers. "Thank you… Commander. This really isn't necessary."

"You disappeared without telling anyone and now you look like an icicle. I think you don't know what necessary is, General," Hound retorted, crossing his arms and Grizzer belled as if agreeing with her owner.

You wanted to retort and say something like "It was the will of the Force" again but the words wouldn't come and your throat closed up. Lowering your eyes, you took a sip of the watery liquid.

A sigh reached your ear and heat crept up your neck. These men shouldn't even be the ones caring for you and you were still unable to thank them properly. A few seconds later, the clones and the massiff left the room, leaving you in the defeaning silence of your own thoughts once again.

Was there any way you could save this?

Probably not.

Minutes later, the door to your office slid open again and you didn't have to see the expression behind the helmet to know that Fox wasn't pleased. The set of his shoulders and the tilt of his helmet said enough.

You gulped when the door closed behind him, sealing you both in the oppressive quiet of your office.

"General." Fox didn't move from the door. Just stood there, helmet angled toward you, the blank black visor reflecting your own huddled form back at you. Judging you. Evaluating you.

Good, some vicious part of your mind whispered. You deserve it.

"Commander." Your voice was better now due to the hot drink but it still lacked the usual confidence you emanated.

"You abandoned your post," Fox said, and his voice was flat. The same tone he used in mission debriefs and made junior officers stammer. "For four hours. No comm. No tracker. No note."

"I know."

"Do you have any idea how many security breaches I had to investigate before Hound found you? How many hours of manpower I wasted searching for a general who decided to go for a walk?"

His helmet tilted, and you could feel the glare behind it.

"I'm sorry," you said and your voice cracked on the second word. "I didn't mean—"

"You didn't mean to?" Fox pushed off from the door, taking a few steps towards you. His boots were wet too, leaving faint impressions on the floor. "You are a General. You don't get to disappear. You have duties and repsonsibilities and people who rely on you."

"I know," you whispered again, shame coiling in your stomach and wrapping around your spine.

"Do you?" Fox stopped in front of your desk, arms crossing over his chestplate. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you've decided that the rules don't apply to you. And you left the rest of us to clean up your mess."

The accusation stung and left your eyes burning, throat tightening again. "That's not—"

"Not what? True?" Fox leaned forwards, bracing his hands on your desk, all the suppressed fury and exhaustion radiating off him in waves. "You've been here for weeks, General. Weeks. And in all that time, you haven't said a single genuine word to any of my men. You haven't looked at them. You just float through these halls like a ghost, muttering about the kriffing Force, and then you vanish—"

"I know."

The mug hit the desk with a sharp clatter, caf sloshing over the rim and pooling on some datapads but you didn't care. Something inside you was cracking and splitting open. Something that you've been ignoring for months.

"I know I'm useless here. I know I'm not— I can't—" your voice broke and you pressed the heels of your hands against your eyes, trying to hold back the flood. "You think I don't see it? See them?"

"See who?"

"Your men." The words tore out of you, raw and ragged. "I see them, Fox. I see all of them. I see the way your troopers check over their shoulders in the mess hall because they've learned that nowhere is safe. I see the ration bars that taste like ash and the armour that's held together with desperation and the exhaustion in their eyes when they think no one's watching."

Fox went very still.

"I see it," you continued, and now the tears were coming, hot and shameful, "I see it and I can't help. I can't do anything other than sit in this office and write reports while everyone around me keeps dying."

"You're not on the frontlines."

"My battalion is. I haven't heard from them in six days, Fox! Six entire rotations. But I've seen the reports. The casualties keep climbing and I can't do anything. I should be out there— I'm just sitting here sipping caf while my men keep—"

Your voice gave out entirely, swallowed by a sob that seemed to come from somewhere deep in your chest. You hunched forward, the thermal blanket sliding off one shoulder, and pressed a hand over your mouth to muffle the sounds.

You were supposed to be better than this. Stronger. Jedi didn't fall apart over a few missing reports and some tired soldiers. Jedi accepted the will of the Force and moved forward with serenity and purpose.

But you weren't serene. You weren't accepting. You were terrified.

"I can't do this anymore," you admitted, " I can't— I…"

Silence stretched heavily between the two of you.

—————————

For a second, Fox just blinked behind his helmet, entirely stumped by this display of emotion on your face. Then, he straigthened up slowly, carefully, releasing the latches on the sides of his helmet and pulling it off.

Your eyes widened and he knew exactly what he looked like; bloodshot and dark-ringed eyes, scars that pulled his lips into a constant sneer and an expression that wasn't anger, not really.

Fox was confused. "Since when do you care?" The words came out biting, harsher than he intended when he saw you flinch but he didn't care to repeat them in a softer tone.

"Since always."

"Always?" Fox's brows furrowed. "That's hard to believe when you've been walking around, dismissing everyone and everything and not even looking at us as if we don't exist. I thought you hated us."

"I've cared," Your voice turned pleading, "I don't hate you. I never did, Fox. I just— I couldn't bring myself to show it. To act on it without it— without it destroying me inside."

The confession hung between you two and Fox had to avert his eyes, flexing his fingers that had started trembling slighty. He couldn't look at you now. Not when he had realised how similar you were to him.

His other commanders often joked about Fox scaring the shinies with his harsh tone and no-nonsense regulations. But they also knew that Fox was one bad day away from a breakdown exactly like yours.

He cared too much but couldn't show it to protect his own heart.

Fox sighed, letting the exhaustion settle deep in his bones. Then he stepped around the desk and pulled you into a hug, your face pressed against his chestplate as you still sat on your chair. A sound of surprise escaped your lips before you tentatively reached up and wrapped your arms around his middle.

So when he decides he's interested in you, he goes for it. Doesn't see a reason not to. He's pretty confident about pursuing you…but he's NOT smooth. His attempts at flirting tend to be really earnest rather than like charming and he'll sometimes come off a little stiff. The type to plan out exactly what he's going to say beforehand, get the recitation down perfectly, but then definitely sound like he's reciting something when he's talking to you

Tbh he's just not interested in playing games. He'd rather risk rejection than spend months wondering. He just overthinks it a lil regardless and wants to make sure he's not misreading things. The others def know he's into you and give him a lot of joking advice which he pretends to scoff at and brush off but he's actually thinking about it for ages after like hmmm maybe that is a good idea…

Likes impressing you with stories about previous assignments/battles and stuff and is very pleased whenever you call him brave or things like that. Honestly his favorite kinds of compliments are about like his capabilities and strength

Has a strong sense of responsibility and this carries into his relationships as in like he takes a very consciously active part in maintaining your relationship. Like if a rough week means he hasn't seen you much, he'll literally schedule time with you into his calendar so that he remembers not to let anything else get in the way

Really supportive in a very practical way. If you have a bad day, problem at work, family drama, he immediately slips into planning mode and starts helping you build a solution. Strategy brain takes over for him lol

Dates with him are on the simpler side but very intentional, he likes more casual dates that help him to just chill out and unwind for a bit since his day to day is usually so stressful. Doesn't go for spontaneous dates much, he prefers planning things ahead of time

He had to kinda get used to frequent/casual physical affection but once he did he settled into it really well and really likes frequent casual affection. Not big on PDA but little things are fine and he'll like hold your hand in public a lot

His favorite kisses are the quick, everyday ones. A kiss before leaving for duty or a little peck while passing each other. Those little moments matter more to him than like big romantic gestures would. Always kisses you like he's making a promise though, no matter how quick it is; especially after his last stand, his kisses linger for just for an extra second

A lot changed after Scipio, but they were largely subtle things you wouldn't really notice unless you were specifically look for them. He kinda…slowed down a little. Focused on the moments with you a little more. Maybe he needed your help a lot while recovering from his injuries and at first, he kinda struggles with needing so much help. Later, he kinda looks back on that period with a little bit of tenderness because even at his weakest, you were there

Before Scipio, he expressed love mostly through reliability. He always showed up, kept promises, solved problems, etc. Afterwards, he makes a point of saying it much more often. It kinda stripped away a lot of the hesitation he may have used to have about verbal affection

There also aren't any more quick goodbyes before leaving on assignments and things; instead, he's always coming back for one more kiss, mumbling an I love you against your lips no matter what. Every single time. In case anything ever happens again, he refuses to let your last memory of each other be an absent-minded wave from across the room

He's also a lot more protective of time that you've set aside together. Previously if time with you got interrupted for some reason he'd promise to make it up to you later and think nothing of it, but now he's learnt that "later" isn't guaranteed. His duties are still a priority but if he gets moments he can steal away with you? He'll take em

◈ Fox is one of the most loyal, by the book troopers in the GAR. He's been put in charge -- of the entire Coruscant basically -- for a reason after all. He wants to follow the rules, keep his brothers safe and do his duty.

◈ He knows everything that moves on his planet. He knows the comings and goings of his brothers' battalions. He keeps track of everything.

◈ But he is overworked and exhausted, and quickly becomes disillusioned with the reality of Coruscant, senators, and the status the clones have.

◈ Little by little, Coruscant not necessarily breaks him, but forces him to adapt in ways he never really expected. He maintains the appearance of the 'by the book Commander', but constantly exploits loopholes and quickly learns how to manipulate and blackmail people.

◈ But it's never for his own gain - no, it is always for his vode. It's to keep them safe when senators get overbearing or demand the decommissioning of some shiny only because he forgot to open a door or some banthashit like that. His brothers in the Guard remain his priority.

◈ His fear of losing a little brother to decommissioning turns him into a control freak. The best way to protect his vode is prevention, and to do that the Guard has to be perfect. He has to be perfect.

◈ That's how his reputation as an unreasonable asshole starts to spread. He demands perfection. He allows no room for error. If a shiny makes the tinniest mistake, he's running drills until his knees give and he collapses. His men start to be afraid of making mistakes. They start to be afraid of him. Very few know that the punishments he implements are better than the alternative.

◈ Soon he doesn't even need to shout or glare or supervise drills - the men begin correcting themselves. New troopers are already scared of him before they even get their transfer orders to the Guard.

◈ It's a little isolating, but he's fine with it. He doesn't need his men to like him -- he needs them to be safe. And he's fine with everyone thinking he's a tough, uncaring asshole.

◈ So when he meets you -- and suddenly his heart beats faster, stomach flutters, palms get sweaty and thoughts scramble -- Fox is annoyed. He simply does not have the time for a crush and sees you as a distraction.

◈ He's curt and a little brash at first, but not out of malice - more out of circumstance. Relationships with nat-borns aren't allowed. He knows his men must be breaking that rule, but as long as he doesn't hear about it, it means they're careful enough and they can carry on. He, however, doesn't have the time or the need for it.

◈ Now, the months/years spent on Coruscant do eventually change his views on personal relationships - or maybe the loneliness finally gets to him -- but by the time that happens, he's already managed to convince you that he doesn't like you and has no idea how to fix it.

◈ He wasn't cruel -- but he was never warm. Never friendly and open like Thorn or Hound, or even Thire and Stone. His interactions with you were always short and to the point. He never found the time to humour you when you tried to slip in small questions to get to know him. He always blankly stared at you from behind the safety of his expressionless helmet until you stopped trying to make an effort.

◈ But Maker, did he feel it when you stopped making an effort. Like a punch to the gut. He noticed the way your sentences around him got shorter. How your smile always faltered when you entered his office. How you tried to keep your interactions under five minutes. And he hated it -- and himself-- for it deeply.

◈ So what Fox does to attempt to fix it is he watches you. Carefully. Intently. He learns your schedule. He studies the way the other men talk to you and how you talk to them and tries to mimic that. When he suddenly asks you how the concert or movie or art exhibition was - because he was listening when you told Thorn about your plans the other day -- your brain freezes. He's never asked you a personal question before.

◈ Of course, unfortunately for him, he hasn't quite mastered one aspect of casual chitchat. The tone. He asks in the same dry and a little irritated way he usually barks orders. It sounds a little like he's criticizing your choice of entertainment. But he doesn't realise until after you've left his office and he mentally goes over your entire interaction 3 or 4 times.

◈ Now, because he was always working, always focused on the duty he had to his vode and to Coruscant, he's never really socialised much. And that is painfully obvious. Sure, he's at the 79s from time to time, but he goes for his brothers. And usually because Wolffe is on-world and the one to literally -- physically -- drag him out of his office.

◈ He's found people attractive before, but he hasn't acted much on it. He never really allowed himself time for distractions. There's only been a handful of hookups, and always in the freshers of the 79s.

◈ So he knows he lacks experience. But he'd rather die before he asks any of his brothers for help. Fox is smart and extremely stubborn, he'll figure it out himself.

◈ Unfortunately, his attempts are so painfully awkward, you're genuinely confused about what's happening. He's so difficult to figure out because he himself isn't sure of what he wants.

◈ Like, yes, he's fallen for you, hard. And he wants you. But at the same time he doesn't think he deserves you. He doesn't consider himself a good person. Not with everything he's had to do in order to keep his men safe.

◈ And there's also the stretches of time he doesn't remember. Moments where he's gone into the Chancellor's office then blanked for 2-3 rotations, until finally he woke up in his office, with blood stains on his armor.

◈ He shouldn't get close to you. But Maker he's lonely. And you're so beautiful and kind and your laugh always warms his rotten soul. Maybe being near you a little more will fix the gaping hole in his chest.

◈ Fox is the kind of man who doesn't know how to express his feelings... until he's had a few whiskeys. He's still not poetic or good with words - no, the alcohol just helps him blurt his thoughts out.

◈ And that's how it happens. You're at the 79s with some of the other men. Fox watches you have fun from a distance, downing whiskey after whiskey and cursing himself for not knowing how to dance so that he could also make you laugh and be close to you like Hound or Thorn are.

◈ Once he's tipsy enough however, he follows you when you head to the freshers, waits for you in the corridor, then grabs you and pulls you aside. He's doesn't really have a plan -- which is both terrifying and exhilarating -- he just wants to talk to you.

◈ What he manages to blurt out is a rushed "I'm sorry". His hand is on your arm, thumb caressing your skin. You have no idea what's going on. But you couldn't look away from his unfocused and a little desperate eyes even if you wanted.

◈ When you don't reply he panics and keeps talking. He tries to explain but ends up calling you a distraction, which of course, offends you, and you try to slip out of his grasp and leave.

◈ He curses himself when he sees this isn't going as he hoped and just blurts out that he has feelings for you.

◈ Then he lets you go and walks away, leaving you stunned and confused.

◈ It annoys him in a way he can't put into words, but Fox admits defeat and finally goes to talk to Thorn, telling him everything about his crush on you and asking for advice.

◈ So the next time he sees you, he knows what to do. He apologises again and asks you out for caf, fully prepared to be rejected.

◈ When you agree, he can't keep the smile off his face - and Maker he has a beautiful smile, you definitely wish to see it more often.

◈ Your first date is a little awkward. More than a little actually. Fox has no idea how to have a casual conversation that doesn't involve casualty reports or Senate security plans, so he's more than happy to let you take the lead and listen to your stories.

◈ He doesn't kiss you on the first date, no matter how much he wants to. And he doesn't do it on the second either. He wants to do this right, take things slow, enjoy getting to know you and not overwhelm you.

◈ But that plan goes out the window the moment his lips are on yours.

◈ It happens on the third date. He walks you home after a nice, leisurely stroll through the cultural district, and as he leans in your doorway, he can't stop staring at your lips. When you tilt your head up, he accepts your invitation, and he kisses you softly, one hand on your waist, the other cradling your face.

◈ But once he starts, he finds he can't stop. The kiss deepens, turns desperate, and when you pull him inside your home, Fox comes willingly.

◈ Fox is very touch starved, and that is obvious in the way he allows no space to form between your bodies.

◈ He presses you against the wall, greedily touching every bit of exposed skin. And when that's no longer enough, he slides his hands under your shirt.

◈ If you didn't break the breathless kiss and ask him to move to the bedroom, Fox would've taken you right there in the hallway. But once he hears your whispered request, his brain kicks back into gear, remembering he wanted to do things properly, not rush and chase a high he hasn't felt in months.

◈ Unfortunately, it has been a long time for him, and he's permanently exhausted -- so, much to his embarrassment, your first time sleeping together ends faster than he wished.

◈ But he doesn't listen to you when you say it's alright. He's determined to make you feel good. So he trails his lips down your chest and then down your abdomen, tongue and teeth teasing your sensitive skin, until his face is buried in your core.

◈ Maybe he's a little sadistic, but Fox finds immense pleasure in edging you. He brings you close and abruptly stops at least five time, until you're a begging mess, pleading and fisting his hair in the most intoxicating way.

◈ And when he finally pushes you into that valley of pleasure? Maker, the way you scream his name almost makes him come all over your sheets.

◈ Once the act is done, however, he's not entirely sure what to do. He sits back on his knees, wiping your slick from his face with the back of his palm as he watches you catch your breath.

◈ Your eyes are closed and a dazed smile is frozen on your lips - and stars help him it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

◈ But he's never done this before. Never had sex in such a normal place as a bedroom. And never stayed afterwards.

◈ So as the pride swelling in his chest slowly thaws, Fox looks around your room, unsure if he's supposed to lay down next to you or put his clothes back on and go.

◈ A part of him does want to leave. It's that part of his brain that's just permanently trained to be wary of nat-born, wary of showing anything but cold professionalism... of being vulnerable.

◈ But when you hold out you hand, looking up at him through heavy eyelids, your gaze so soft and unguarded -- his restraint cracks enough to allow himself to settle on the mattress, gathering you into his arms.

◈ It feels foreign, the closeness, the raw vulnerability. Yet, as he feels you drift to sleep in his embrace, your face nuzzling into the crook of his neck, a dangerous warmth spreads through his chest -- the kind of warmth that's pure, undiluted devotion.

◈ He's yours now, fully. And you are his. And he will protect you fiercely, at times maybe even a little possessively.

◈ And he will also open his very soul to you, he will give you everything he has to give.

◈ Fox is not soft. He's never been soft a day in his life. But for you? He discovers a gentleness within himself he never through he was capable of.