🌙Hex🔮

Smack.

           “Fuck, Crosshair! You don't have to go that hard!” I said, trying to shake the stinging sensation off the back of my hand. The boys in the booth on the opposite side of the bar snickered to themselves when Wrecker whispered “That’s what she said.” Crosshair rolled the toothpick to the other side of his smirk, as I tucked the pile of cards into the bottom of my hand. Omega peeked her head over the bar next to Crosshair, with a bright little smile on her face.

           “Cross, you pay her,” I said, taking another swig of my cocktail, not looking at either clone in front of me.

           “I'm not the one cursing in front of kids.”

I flashed him a dirty look before I dipped into my tip jar and tossed her five credits.

           “Why is there a child in my bar anyways, Bouncer?” I joked as Crosshair and I tossed cards on the bar simultaneously.

           “Do you want me to kick her out?” Crosshair replied, slapping the pile of cards as fast as he tossed the jack down.

           “Damn you and your fast hands.”

           “They’ll go as fast or slow as you like,” he whispered with a small smirk. I rolled my eyes with a smile.

                                                       ***

           I had never met any of The Batch until Crosshair walked in alone late one night. I saw the first four of them around the square and docks when Phee first brought them to Pabu, then they were gone for a while. When they came back, they looked like they’d trekked through hell, with Crosshair in tow. He showed up within his first few days on the island, coming in alone late one night, sipping on Corellian whiskey until I made the last call. This went on for a week before I got tired of him staring into his glass in silence when it was dead. I started handing him my data pad to play music.

           Over a few weeks, he moved from the table in the furthest corner of the room, to sitting at the end of the bar, leaning across to grab the card deck or data pad when he was bored and I was busy with customers. The first time he leaned over the bar to grab the data pad himself he spied the blaster sitting behind my purse.

           “What are you afraid of?”

           “I live, work, and walk home, alone,” I said, lifting boxes and rotating bottles in the cooler.

           He gave a low hum, and punched in one of the bar playlists I premade. That night he stayed until I finished closing to walk me home. He learned my schedule and walked me home every morning, even on days he hadn't been sitting at the bar. I had started tossing his tips back at him and made a playlist of his favorite songs. He waited patiently, listening to me hum along to the music as I cleaned, stocked, and took inventory. Our general conversations were short, but consistent, and enough was always said. I learned about him and his brothers' time with the GAR, knew about a stint with the Empire before he defected, but that was all. No real details, just his scars on the side of his head and neck, and an agonized look in his eyes as he stared down at his drink, or stared off at the ocean when he walked me home.

           A few more weeks went by: the playful flirting started, his brothers and sister started coming along for a couple hours here and there to play darts or cards. Crosshair always sat with them when they came along, with a more tense and quiet demeanor. A particularly busy night a lightweight local felt bold enough to grab my ass as I leaned over the table to collect the boys' glasses. Before I could whip around to push him off, Crosshair had him by the shirt collar and was walking him out the front door. The bar owner, Joy, who was helping me behind the bar, laughed “Cross if you're gonna be here all the time and so damn protective anyways, I could use a bouncer. Not much pay, but the work is steady.”

           So, after working together for a couple months, slapjack became our game of choice on slow nights. I tried taking him on once at darts; absolutely never again. Billiards? Even worse. Sabacc was fun until he started using the mirror behind the bar to cheat. Slapjack and War I at least stood a chance.

                                                       ***

           “Last call boys, let's let them go home,” Joy said as she came out of her office. “I'll close up, enjoy your day tomorrow.” She said, looking at me. Crosshair took the cards from my hand “What’s tomorrow?”

           “Just took the day off,” I said, dancing around his question as I grabbed his siblings' glasses off the bar. Lost in thought and moving on autopilot, I didn't realize he had come behind the bar and was trying to walk behind me as I bent down to grab sanitizer tablets from under the sink. My ass knocked directly into his crotch, nearly toppling him over, so he grabbed my hips to steady himself. Both of us froze briefly until I started laughing and winked over my shoulder at him, “Hey there handsome,”

           “We're in public, dear, control yourself,” he said, smiling and squeezing out from between my ass and the back counter to get to my things.

           “Alright! Cross is finally getting some action!” Wrecker's laugh filled the empty bar.

           “Finally?” I looked to Wrecker then to Crosshair who was facing away from everyone, shoulders tensed.

           “Nice, Wrecker,” Hunter said, nudging Omega towards the door.

           “This is a conversation we should not be here for,” Tech said and nodded to Joy as he followed the group out.

           Outside of the bar, I looked over at him as we walked. The moonlight highlighted his sharp profile. “So, what have you been telling them about us?” I bumped him with my elbow playfully.

He looked down at me briefly before looking back at the lit walkway, “There's nothing to tell,” he said seemingly annoyed, “You never answered my question from earlier.”

           “I didn't know I had to.”

           “You don't.”

I let silence fill the space between us for a moment.

           “My birthday.”

           “So it's special,” he said looking down at me. He was tall, I barely came up to his shoulder.

           “I guess. More like Joy just insisted I take a day to enjoy myself instead of dealing with Saturday night locals.”

            “What's the plan for tomorrow then?”

            “Nothing. Maybe laundry while I listen to a movie.”

That quiet hum again passed his lips, then nothing until he walked me to the door and said goodnight.

            Morning invaded my bedroom too soon. Light creeped across the floor and onto my pillow waking me before I was ready to face the world. When I rolled over and adjusted my pillow, I was almost comfortable enough to fall back to sleep when there was a timid knock at my front door. Annoyed and half asleep, I clipped up my hair, put on a cami and boxers I found on the floor and walked into the living room. I opened the door to a blinding sunrise and a lightly blushing Crosshair holding two to-go cups of caf.

           “Is that for me?” I said pointing to one of the cups, “Why are you blushing? Why are you here?” I said, stepping aside to let him in. As he stepped into the living room I was rudely awakened by the realization I hadn't cleaned all week. My house was small enough, you could see everything from the front door. Living room area to the left had a chair, caf table, and loveseat. A full laundry basket covered half the loveseat, 2 empty mugs and half a glass of water sat on the table. The chair had a rumpled blanket tossed across the arm. To the right was an open kitchen with a little island and a 2 person dining table. Ration bars and instant soup sat in grocery bags on the kitchen counter, while the dining table was covered in notes, and my dumped-out-purse-contents. My bedroom door was wide open to reveal the dirty laundry thrown across the floor, and a stack of books, 2 water bottles, 2 mugs, and my blaster on the nightstand. The refresher had cosmetics littered across the counter and last night's outfit and a damp towel on the floor.

           “Happy birthday. I was going to take you to breakfast but I see you've opted to skip wearing clothes today?” He said, handing me a cup and glancing down at my mostly bare legs and obviously braless chest under the cami. Unlike his brothers, he wore dark civilian clothes most days; but this day he looked particularly nice. He was wearing a black button up with dark pants and his GAR boots. The top two buttons were undone on his shirt, letting a few lines of a tattoo on his chest peek out.

           “I just woke up. Um, pants are probably in the basket. Sorry about the mess,” I said, taking a sip of caf and setting it down before making a panicked search in the laundry basket.

            “What happened?”

            “I don't like sleeping with clothes on, and I wasn't expecting company. If you give me a few minutes I can get ready to go–"

             “No. Your scars.”

I looked down at my thighs. Sure enough, just below the hem of the boxers, visible through dark tattoos, were the deliberate, straight marks across the tops of my thighs. All of my scars and stretch marks usually blended pretty well into my skin or were covered by tattoos, but they were still there, still visible to staring eyes. I pulled on a pair of sweats before I tried to busy myself with picking up the stuff off the caf table: “Not everyone heals from trauma gracefully,” I gestured to the chaos around my small house, “I still struggle, but at least my house I can clean.” Hands full, I turned towards the kitchen and tried to hurry by him, “Thanks for the caf. You remembered how I–”

        He stepped in front of me and reached to my hands, briefly tracing my knuckles with his long fingers before grabbing the dishes from me: “Need some help? Or company?”

I froze at the sudden and gentle contact, but held his eyes as I felt a warmth creep into my cheeks.

        “You, Crosshair, skilled marksman for the GAR and Imperial convict, are going to help me fold my panties?”

        “How else am I supposed to get a look?” He said with a smirk and light blush, turning into the kitchen. “You could always ask nicely,” I smiled and rushed to the dining table to condense the clutter. “Wait, what about breakfast?” 

“We’ll make it lunch,” He said as he kicked off his boots by the front door.

       I cut up some fruit and brought it to the living room. He’d sat on the free section of the loveseat, briefly glancing over a novel I had on the side table. I put the laundry basket on the floor between us and sat on the other end of the sofa. He put the book down and grabbed a piece of red fabric sticking out of the basket, pulling out a little red dress. I started a movie and watched him hold up the dress and stare at it confused.

           “You don't fold those, if you were wondering.”

           “It's short…”

           “A friend bought it for me, but it's tight and my scars show. Not sure what occasion I’ll have for it, but it's cute. I'll let it sit in my closet for a while.”

He draped the dress on the arm of the loveseat and picked through the basket until he found something he knew how to fold.

        The movie carried on while I put the clean clothes away and picked up the dirty clothes off the bedroom and refresher floor. When I was done, Crosshair was settled into the loveseat, feet up on the table and one arm draped across the back. He seemed relaxed until I sat down and saw he was grinding down on his toothpick.

           “I'm still not used to being all domestic.” He answered before I could ask, feeling my stare on his profile.

I curled up into myself on the loveseat, but even being on the opposite side, his long arm could reach completely across and he brushed the back of my neck with his thumb.

           “You didn't have to–” I said sheepishly.

           “Relax. You're not the problem. I offered to help. I'm still…”

           “Trying to make this place a home?”

           He stopped clenching his jaw and looked over at me for a moment before looking back at the movie. He continued the gentle touch on the back of my neck, tickling little the curls that slipped from my bun. I let the movie play for a few moments, to see if he had more to say. But he just continued rubbing the back of my neck with his thumb for a while longer before I spoke:

           “I know that no matter how welcoming a place or person can be, after being fucked with for so damn long its hard to feel safe. But I want you to feel safe here, because you've made me feel safe for the first time in so long,” I looked over at him. His eyes were flicking back and forth across the holo, trying to find something to say. Catching sight of the near tears in his eyes I added: “Even when you startle me by dropping by at the ass crack of dawn without warning.”

He gave my curls a gentle tug with a snicker and I laughed.

            “I don't have your comm frequency” He said with a smirk.

           I playfully made a shocked face, “Don't have my frequency, but now you've folded my intimates.”

           “And rubbed my crotch into your ass.” He said bluntly, looking back over at me.

           “Look at you, getting all this action,” I said as I pinched his side playfully, catching a good spot on his waist that made him flinch.

           “Wrecker doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut about other people's business.” He whipped his head back to the movie.

           “Never known the company of a fairer kind?” I said playfully, still looking at him. He let a few moments pass, blush creeping into ears and cheeks, clamping down on his toothpick.

           “Is that a problem?” He finally said, still avoiding my face.

           “No. And not shocking either. Can't imagine you really had that much time to enjoy R&R during the odd times you got it.” I looked back at the movie.

           “Never had any interest before now anyways,” He said.

           I felt him shift on the loveseat, felt his hand creep up into my hair and gently take out the clip. I looked over right as he took the toothpick out of his mouth with his free hand and set it on the lid of his empty caf cup. His eyes met mine as I shifted my body to face him and reached over towards his waist again, “Before now, huh?” I said with a smile pulling on his shirt. I heard the clip clatter to the floor.

           He leaned into my reach, crawling fully up on the loveseat to lay his body between my legs, one hand still in my hair as he held himself up with the other one. I gripped onto his shirt with both hands, until he stopped leaning towards me, hovering close, flicking his eyes back and forth to study my face. My left hand cupped his face and my thumb caressed his cheekbone, tracing the bottom line of his tattoo. His body weight pressed into my hips, bringing my attention to my dampening set of boxers and a warmth radiating off both of us.

           “Sit up, or kiss me dammit.” I said, breaking the staring contest we seemed to have started. He let out a low huff and pressed his smile to mine. I giggled against his lips.

           “What's so funny?” He said pulling back enough to answer and pinch my side.

           “This has become a very nice birthday.”

He pressed his lips back to mine, more passionately, giving a gentle tug on my hair, and creeping his other hand under my cami to grip my waist. His hands were warm against my stomach but my hands made him shiver as I slid my hand under his shirt and over his abs. I moved to pull away but he leaned in further, holding tight. I slipped my hands back out and slowly unbuttoned his shirt. Once undone, my hands traced up and down his upper body, feeling out every muscle line and scar, while his hand alternated between squeezing my waist and sliding up and down my thigh.

        He pulled away to catch his breath and tucked his face into the curve of my neck. After a moment he slid his fingers into the waistband of my sweats, breathing becoming heavy and slow, kissing behind my ear. I grabbed his arm to make him look at me. He freed his hand from behind my head to hold himself up.

        “You don't have to take this further than you want, you know. I’m perfectly fine with waiting as long as you want.”

He smirked slightly, then in almost one fluid motion lifted me up into his arms as he pushed himself up off the loveseat. He carried me into my bedroom and threw me onto the unmade bed and climbed back over top of me, an obvious tightness in the front of his pants pressing into my soaking boxers. He brought his lips back to my neck, corners of his lips tugging into a gentle smile. A soft sigh escaped me as he kissed down my neck towards my collar bone, making him grind into my hips playfully. 

           I tugged at his unbuttoned shirt to try to pull it off. Without moving his lips from my skin he pulled it off and tossed it aside, then continued teasing at my waistband. I pushed against him to sit up, pushing him off long enough to pull my shirt off and toss it onto the floor. He looked down at my bare chest, flushed. His hands ghosted across my stomach and waist as he brought his hands to my breasts. I started working at his pants while his eyes and hands explored my bare skin. He traced the tattoo along my right rib cage before bringing his hand back to cup my breasts.

           When I managed to undo his belt and buttons, he began tugging down my sweats. I let him slide off my pants and boxers but froze as he eyed up my entirely naked body, feeling myself dripping on the bed with anticipation. Feeling suddenly self conscious remembering the scars and stretchmarks that patterned my thighs and hips I reached for his pants again, this time he relented to back off the bed long enough to pull them all the way off, his hard cock freed of any restraint and his eyes never stopping their roam about my body.

        He climbed back over top of me, starting his kisses again from behind my ear, down my neck, across my collar bone, trailing all the way down to my thighs. My legs draped across his shoulders, hands squeezing my thighs, he flicked his gaze between my eyes and my dripping folds.

           “May I?”

           “You know what to do?” I said teasing.

He nipped at my thigh, leaving a mark. “I’m a virgin, not a nun,” he started kissing my inner thighs, trailing up to my hips.

           “A visual learner then–” I ended in a gasp, as he licked from my entrance to my clit, stopping and teasing my clit with his tongue with just a slight amount of pressure.

           “I’ll shut up now,” I sighed.

           He chuckled against me, then looked up, “Don't do that,” he licked me again, “how will I know what you like if you're quiet?”

           He devoured me, exploring every possible sigh and moan I could make and focusing his tongue on the movements that made me squirm the most. He played with my clit intensely while his eyes were trained on my face, listening to my panted instructions. As I got closer and closer to my peak, I instinctively grasped onto his hands, still curled around my thighs, holding onto each other like one of us might get washed away.

           “Fuck,” I moaned as my back arched off the bed slightly. I felt the vibrations of his moan against my clit, and he picked up his pace just enough to push me over into my orgasm, thighs squeezing his shoulders, letting go of one of his hands to grab onto the headboard.

           He brought me through my orgasm, still teasing my clit until it bordered overstimulation. I released the headboard to caress his cheek between my legs. He lifted his head away from my soaked pussy, smiling with my arousal all over his chin. With both hands I went to wipe his face but he just kissed my palms before he got up and dipped into the refresher. When he came back, he hovered in the threshold, wiping his smug face with a washcloth with one hand, stroking himself with the other, admiring the sprawled out and puddled mess I was on the bed.

           “You look proud,” I said chuckling. He tossed the washcloth in the hamper and crawled back into bed between my legs, he hovered above my lips for a beat before kissing me. I could taste myself on his tongue before he trailed his kisses across my jaw and back down to my neck, his erection pressing into my pubic. “What would you like from me?” I whispered as I kissed his ear teasingly. He gave a short scoff before shifting his hips so his length moved to grind between my wet folds. One hand slid up my thigh as I bent my legs to wrap them around his waist, while his other hand cupped my face as he continued his kisses on my neck and collar bone. He shifted his hips as I reached for his length to line it up, both of us moaning deeply as he pushed himself inside me. I held onto his biceps, as he paused for a moment, head buried in the curve of my neck. “Fuck, you feel good,” he groaned into my skin, before slowly rutting into me.

           It wasn’t long before he was fucking me hard and groaning unabashedly. The hand that was cupping my face, gripped onto the sheets beside my head, while he held himself deep inside me holding onto my hip. My knuckles were white, switching between holding onto his arms and digging into his waist, leaving small red scratches down his sides. His orgasm came hard and fast, slamming his hips into me, resting his forehead on mine as he came.

           He lifted his flushed face away from mine, not looking at me as he started to pull out and back off the bed. “Wait, Cross,” I said trying to hang onto his arm but he gently pulled away and slipped into the refresher.

           I waited a few minutes before I got up and knocked on the door. When there was no response, I tested the door and found it unlocked. He was facing away from me, staring at the shower but made no move to turn it on. “What’s wrong?” I asked, closing the refresher door behind me. He glanced over his shoulder at me, then back at the shower. I walked up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing my head into his back, his body oddly tense. “Can we shower together, or do you want space?” I let silence fill the room for a moment. After a pause, he took one of my hands and kissed it, “Stay,” was his only response.

           He avoided looking at face until we were curled up on the dry side of the bed. I rested my head on his shoulder, my leg draped across his hips, tracing the outline of the skull and 99 tattoos on his chest. I listened to his heartbeat, smelling my soap on his skin, feeling his right arm wrapped around me, thumb rubbing circles around my own tattoo. I was starting to doze off when he spoke:

           “You didn’t…” He kept staring up at the ceiling, “...finish, a second time.”

           “And?”

           He looked at me as I sat up on my elbow to look down at him. “If that’s what you’re upset over, don’t be. Once is plenty to start. Come on, take me to lunch.” I pinched his side, making him flinch and briefly frown at me. “We’ll worry about round two later,” I said, starting to roll over him to get off the bed, but he held me over him, my legs straddling his naked waist.

           “Round two?” he asked. Maker, he was adorable when he was confused.

           “Only if you want to,” I kissed his forehead and continued off the bed to get dressed.

           “Only if you wear that red dress,” he smiled. He laid on the bed, with his hands behind his head and propped up on my pillows, as he watched me get ready before he got up to pick his own clothes up off the floor.

                                                       ***

           “How was it?” Hunter asked when he came up to buy another round. 

           "How was what?” I said smiling to myself and yawning as I grabbed him another cider.

           “Yesterday,” he said, giving a suggestive smile and glancing over at Crosshair – who never did go back to the Marauder that night, opting to just wash his clothes before work.

           Crosshair sat at the opposite end of the bar, watching a particularly rowdy group of women enjoying their phattro a little too much.

           “It was quite lovely. He makes for good company.”

           “Thanks for being good to him. And let us know if he fucks up, we'll straighten him out.”

           “Oh I don’t think he’ll be a problem,” I said as I popped the top off the cider and handed it to him with a smile. “She is, though,” I said nodding to Omega standing next to Hunter with her hand out.

           “Don’t I get a favorite brother pass or something?”

           “You do, but you used it earlier today.”

           “This is all your fault,” he said playfully scowling at me.

           Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of the women walk up to Crosshair and put her hand on his shoulder, whispering something in his ear. I looked at Hunter who was clearly eavesdropping, smiling. When I looked over, Crosshair was pointing at me. She pouted then waved me over, asking for another phattro. When she walked back over to her group, I leaned against the bar beside Crosshair, grabbing my cards from my bag, “What did she want?”

           “Jealous?” he said smirking, taking the cards from my hand and shuffling them.

           “You pointed at me, I have a right to know what excuse you used me for,” I said yawning again.

           “Not an excuse. She asked if I had someone,” he said flatly, dealing cards between the two of us. “I kept you up too late last night,” he said as I yawned for a third time and finished my caff, soaking the mug in the sink.

           “Please do it again,” I said with a sleepy smile, picking up my cards. “But not tonight. Let’s just cuddle tonight.”

           “Who said I was spending another night?” He said with a smirk, playing with the edge of the top card.

           “Me. Pick up clean clothes from the Marauder before we go back to my place.”

           “I need to wear clothes?”

           I gave him a playful wink and we started tossing cards onto the bartop.

************************************************************************