I'm just here to simp for Thrawn

Of course, everybody deserves a leave. To have personal and free time to allow the mind and body to rest and return even more efficient for the next mission. But Thrawn never enjoyed his leaves. His brain is made for work. For strategizing. For war.

Not leisure.

What could he do in this Empire instead of studying his enemies locked up in his apartment? Or visiting galleries to accommodate himself to his new environment? Each leave, he couldn't wait to return on his ship, using every tricks in the books to shorten his mandatory leaves to utmost minimum.

This is true.

This was true.

Now, he has someone waiting for him in his official accommodation apartment. Someone shares his life and awaits his return with a beating heart.

Now, he has you.

He types the final period, his eyes skimming the report and hits send. He closes the screen and stands up, heading to his built-in closet, retrieves his long trench coat and his luggage, already prepared, and leaves his office.

"Grand Admiral!" A masculine voice calls out behind him.

He stops and turns, discovering one of his officers hurrying after him.

Is there a problem? A last-minute order calling for him to stay on the Chimaera? 5 years ago, he would have been satisfied by that news, cancelling his leave immediately and returning to his functions in a heartbeat.

But now… Now this idea feels impeding to his personal life and fulfillment. Now, he has someone to return to, and while he would cancel his leave again in a heartbeat if duty called for him, the taste of contentment would be soured by your absence.

"Yes, Commander?" He asks evenly.

The officer reaches him and smiles brightly.

"You're going on leave? We wanted to hit the bars, me and the others, do you wish to come with us, Sir?" He asks.

Thrawn looks at him, mute. Commodore Faro is taking the Chimaera near Begamor, and most of the officers needed to stay on board. The little number of officers on leave already departed, or Thrawn knew they couldn't allow a night in town to return home.

So the commander just wants to go out alone with him.

Thrawn allow himself a tight lopsided grin. By now, you gave him enough earful to compute other people may find him to their tastes. Like this officer.

"No thank you, Commander." He sternly responds, turning his heels to walk away, "I am awaited."

"You have a reunion?" The junior asks, following his Grand Admiral, with just a respectful step behind.

"My wife awaits me, officer. Good day."

And Thrawn leaves him behind…

__________________________________

You stop your iron and check the white jacket. You took care of taking off the medals and insignias, of course, and now it is perfectly ironed and ready for Thrawn to pack in his baggage for his next departure.

You consider the perfectly stainless jacket of pure white.

You are no officer or soldier of any sort. You are only a civilian. So your means to help your Chiss, or make him feel supported are limited. But at least, each time he leaves to return to his ISD, his clothes are spotless, smell clean, ironed, and he has several Tupperware of dishes he loves prepared by yours truly.

That's not a lot, but Thrawn always made sure to let you know your efforts were greatly appreciated.

Does he also always tell you that he can take care of it himself, and that you should focus this time on your own career and goals?

Yes.

But this is your way of saying "I love you. I think about you." when he is away in space.

You close your eyes, and press the jacket to your nose and deeply inhale. Under the fresh smell of detergent, the thinnest hint of Thrawn's natural musk and cologne remains, filling your stomach of lively butterflies.

You miss him so much. You hope he knows you think about him everyday and pray the Maker for him to travel safely and returns to you unharmed. And you hope he has five seconds free each day to dedicate you a thought too…

You part from the jacket and start folding it, when strong arms circle your waist to press you against a large wall of muscles. Thrawn presses his cheek to yours, purring out loud as you yelp in surprise.

"You returned?" You ask, flustered and relieved, "I did not even hear the door."

Your Chiss hums, before pressing his nose into the crook of your neck to inhale your reassuring scent.

"I just arrived." He says softly, cradling you left to right tenderly, "I longed to see you at last, Ch'acah. I missed you so terribly during my campaigns."

You press your hands on his, snuggling against your Chiss with delight. Enjoying his aura and presence. His warmth.

His love.

Each new campaign is agony for you. Months on end of doubts and worries, never knowing if your husband will return to you, or if you will one day wake up to an official, imperial death notice on your comlink.

Those moments together are so sparse and short, you have to take advantage of every one of them.

"I missed you too, Thrawn." You assure him, "I am always so worried for you when you are away… I am glad you made it back swiftly." You turn your head to kiss his cheek.

"Nothing can stand between me and my safe return in your arms." He promises.

He attacks your neck with little pecks, traveling it up and down, making you giggle for his ears only.

He suddenly parts, nose high.

"Something is burning." He informs.

"Bur- My pie!" You rush out of his arms into the kitchen.

You grab your oven mitts, cursing yourself. But it is too late, your spicy fish pie, Thrawn's favorite, is burned to a crisp.

"Oh no…" You lament, "I didn't have time to prepare anything else."

Thrawn observes you, arms crossed on his chest as he lays against the doorframe with a tight little grin.

"Are you mocking me?" You sniff, pouting.

"No, Ch'acah." He shakes his head, still smiling, "You prepared this dish with love, thinking about me, while juggling with your own job and obligations. All your efforts endear me to you even more."

"Well, I don't know if going to sleep with an empty stomach is endearing. I wanted to do groceries tomorrow, we have nothing left…" You sigh, leaving your ruined pie on the oven, discouraged.

"How about a restaurant for tonight, Ch'acah? I did not treat you to one, last time." Your Chiss proposes, "We could return to the Naboo Queen."

"The Naboo Queen?" You gasp, "It has a 2 years waiting list, Thrawn! We can't barge in just like that. And I'm nowhere gussied enough!"

Thrawn chuckles, standing from the frame to gently grab your face between his hands and kiss your forehead.

"There is no waiting list for a Grand Admiral and his wife, Ch'acah. Call your favorite stylist, they'll doll you up like a living piece of art."

___________________

"Aaaaaaaaah…" You let out, satisfied, "I am full! We always eat so well at the Naboo Queen…" You slouch on your seat, hands on your tummy.

Thrawn sits down next to you with a smug smile, indicating to his chauffeur they could start the limousine. The engine starts purring and the car lifts up in the dark sky of Coruscant.

"I am glad you enjoyed yourself, Ch'acah."

You hiccup, before chuckling.

"I may have drank too much."

"We both drank our fill." He admits, taking off his heavy black cape coat, revealing his pristine white uniform underneath.

He sighs lightly as he opens his collar.

"It's rare that you indulge in alcohol." You muse, booping his elegant nose, blissfully grinning.

"It was to help me wait." He retorts in an Olympian calm, keeping his smugness.

"Wait for what?" You ask, feeling the fire of alcohol in your stomach and on your cheeks.

His grins stretches, letting you catch a glimpse of his pearly white teeth. He leans toward you, a hand on your shoulder to force you to lie down as he looms over you, looking down on your flustered face.

"Wait to devour you up."

"What?" You laugh, tipsy, "Thraaaaaaaaaawn… You are the most cold blooded man I know." You hiccup.

He shakes his head at you, and you realize he is slightly purple at the cheeks.

The alcohol, or…?

"Yet, I need all of my self restraint and will power to not jump on you and claim you like a baseless wild beast." He lets you know, combing his fingers in his blue-black hair.

You gulp, eyes rounding up.

This vision of Thrawn slightly disheveled and blushing, his large chest raising up and down impressively, the best view on his thick neck and collarbone as he soars over you like an omen, terrible and beautiful…

The air evade your lungs at such a sight.

"Really?" you hiccup again.

He starts purring, one of his hand brushing your skirt up as it caresses your leg, the other hand solidly planted next to your head on the seat of the limousine.

"I miss you so much everyday, it is pure torture. And when I am with you, I can't help but obsess about the next moment I will be able to enter and pound you down…" He whispers lowly, "Your scent gets to my head and makes me loose all pretenses. I drool to taste you again." He licks his teeth as his red gems shine obscenely in the general dimness of the car.

"… Right here? In the car?" You ask, astounded.

"Why not? The windows are smoked." He retorts, cocking his head.

You throat dries up.

Decency calls for you to calm things down. You both drank, in a car in the middle of the streets, with a chauffeur mere meters away from you... This is not proper.

But sometimes decency can see itself out, and let you enjoy your husband in peace!

Before he can add anything else, your grab the back of his head and force him to lie on you, pressing your greedy mouth to his to claim your Chiss for yourself at long last. He doesn't lose a second to respond to your kiss, his lips embracing yours as his free hand slides under your back to hug you tight. His second hand that was brushing your leg now grab your naked thigh by the handful under your dress, kneading the flesh with his large hand.

You undulate your spine under your husband's muscular body, grinding your clothed groin to his, entangling your legs with his as he pushes his tongue into your mouth, making you moan out loud. Your tongue hurries to meet his to hug and dance.

The kiss is languorous and heady. Thrawn robs you of your oxygen so easily your head spins in a matter of seconds. His tongue twirls with yours in a sensual meeting before he allows you to take a new breath, parting a mere inch from you, breathing your air.

Your mouth part as you inhale, your chest rising up and down, brushing against his. He brushes your cheek before kissing the other one, and he lowers himself.

He traces the length of your neck with the dart of his tongue, kisses your clavicle as he pulls on the draped shoulder straps of your dress down, revealing your blue laced bra to his red jewels, he chuckles, cocky.

"I see you prepared with a possible night of passion in mind, wearing my colors on your skin like that."

"And what if?" You retort, smiling devilishly to your man.

He grins and lowers his head to lick the valley just between your bosoms, feeling and kneading them through the bra with his hands, pressing and toying them like stress balls. Your hands slide under his white jacket and black tank top, caressing his sculpted body after so many months.

You thought you were going crazy without him, but he returned to you, and is here to service you like a husband should…

He kisses your two breasts, and heads south. He grabs your skirt and lift it up, pushing it out of his way, discovering a laced panties at his colors again. He sniggers before kissing your inner thighs reverently, fondling the meat lovingly.

He presses his lips on your Venus mound, right where your womb hides, while he pulls on your panties to take it off you. One you are free of the cumbersome garment, he presses it to his nose to take a whiff, letting out a satisfied moan and hides it in his pocket.

"I'll keep that for the rest of the night, if you do not mind, Ch'acah." He informs you, not leaving you any choice.

You shake your head at your Chiss with a smirk. He can be so silly sometimes.

He straightens his posture to click a button.

"Yes, Sir?" The Chauffeur asks.

"Keep driving."

"Where should I drive you, Sir?."

"Nowhere. Just drive until I order you to take us home."

"Got it, Sir." And the communication stops.

"There, we shall not be disturbed at an importune time."

"So sagacious, my love." You approve, opening your legs for him.

He caresses your thighs up, keeping them wide spread as he position himself comfortably. He presses his nose into your pubes to inhale your more significant musk deep into is lungs before kissing your slit loudly. You immediately tense up in excitation. He chuckles, leaving pecks here and there, up and down, left and right, covering your labia in love and attention.

"I am going to breed you so hard." He lets you know in a growl, "I will give you so many loads you will look the part. And you will take it all."

And before you can banter back, he takes a sloppy lick at your slit, claiming your pussy. You let escape a mewl as he gets reacquainted with your pussy again after so long. He grips your thighs by the handful, keeping you wide open for him, easily accessible, for him to feast.

He eats you out voraciously, he traces your slit up and down with his dart and then takes a large and long lap with the flat of his tongue. He alternates between short and quick and long and slow, driving you up the wall. He lathers your labia with his saliva, marking his territory on you.

'This woman is mine.'

'This woman is a Chiss' wife.'

'Whoever lays claim on her shall face me.'

You gulp as he coats your flesh with his drool, leaving his scent, his pheromones, his mark. He purrs approvingly when he feels your fingers finding his hair and pressing him down tighter against your cunt, leaving him no ways of escape.

Like he would want to be anywhere else, he internally sniggers.

He is at his true place: between your thighs. And when you'll be home, he'll have you sit on your throne : his face.

He grunts and groans as he devour you like he wished he could for months and ends, but so cruelly separated from you, his other half, his woman, his betrothed. His soul taken human form.

He is going to breed you. He is going to pump so much into you, you will be begging him to stop, overstimulated and shaking, stomach bloated and pussy lips swollen and sensitive.

He will get to admire you rounding up, his baby growing in your core and finally he will be able to offer your couple what you wanted, and what he dreamed about for years, thinking this happiness was forbidden to him.

A newborn.

A baby.

A full family.

With a little bit of chance, it will be an adorable little girl… How he imagined fathering a cunning and clever daughter so many times. That would be his shiniest medal, his badge of honor.

A little girl to call his. A baby of you.

Would you bless him, Ch'acah, and fulfill his dream? Give him a strong daughter? And make him the most blissful man in existence?

He is already getting impatient to have her in his arms, to finally be able to hug her close to his heart.

He smirks at his own foolishness. It takes 9 months with humans. He'll have to wait for a moment. He'll take you to his ISD to help you and take care of you at all times. He can, he is the Grand Admiral.

Who would dare say a thing to him?

But right now, he must focus on 'creating' his baby girl. And this part is as delectable and deserves as much care and attention. And you have all his attention, Ch'acah. He is solely focused on you.

Sweet, sexy you.

His wife, his partner. The future mother of his children.

The future mother of Chiss. The highest honor in existence.

He cannot helps but grin as he parts your pussy lips to titillate your little clit. He whips and drums it, plays, glides and crosses it, forcing ungodly moans out of you.

Such feminine notes.

Such delectable music to his ears.

Is this your way to entice him even more to you, sweet girl? He will gladly responds to your mating calls and make you cum so hard to will lose consciousness still impaled on his cock.

So play your charms and deal your cards wisely, woman. The night is young, and he feels ravenous.

He twist and twirls his tongue on your delicious pearl as one of his hand releases your thighs to feel your entrance. He feels your ring of flesh contracting at the mere brush of his pad, pleasing him greatly.

You've always been so reactive to his touch, Ch'acah. Always agreeable and willing, he'd had pain finding a new woman as worthy as you.

He loves you so much. You make him lose all sense of priorities and sweetens his dark existence. You light up a warm fire in his life when he was resigned to spend it in solitude, away from his kin.

You gave him a new home. A place to return to. A place to long for and miss while he is away.

And he'll kill to keep it. To keep you.

You are his weakness, his soft spot. And he shall protect you, even against the Emperor.

Touching a Chiss' wife is signing its own death warrant.

Hurting a Chiss baby is an open war declaration with the entire Ascendancy.

After all, they descend from dangerous Carnivores. It would be a waste to not use those predators' instincts. All aliens species, neighbors to the Ascendancy, know this peculiarity of their race. The sharpness of their minds and fangs do not fool anyone.

Mess with their families, pay the price with your blood.

You mewl when you feel him enter your tight cunt with a knuckle, feeling yourself gaping around his digit. He caresses your inner flesh slowly, draws circle with his finger to stretch your ring of flesh gently, getting you used to his intrusion while he keeps harassing your palpitating nub. He bites it tenderly and make it roll between his swollen lips, making you yelp and arch your back so impressively, he is himself surprised.

You are always so much more sensitive the first days of his return. You touch and have fun by yourself when you are away, of course, but feeling his caresses on you again, smelling his masculine musk, pressing his warm skin against yours, being caged under his larger body… So many wonderful ways to make you pant and ready for him.

He turns his finger up and starts grazing your G-spot with the pad, sending jolts of pleasure into your quivering core. He fondles and toy with the small gummy surface, worsening your wetness, as you feel your slick pearling off his hand, down your thighs and butt onto the pricey leather of the car.

You gasp, biting one finger to silence your lecherous pleads in an attempt to remain dignified.

A foolish attempt, as Thrawn knows your mind and body by heart. He knows how to please your flesh and mind, to have you eating in the curve of his palm. He knows he must manage expectations and effects, tension and release, fantasms and kinks to have you screaming his name.

And he took the time to study you thoroughly. You have not a single last secret for your husband. He looks through you, into your soul, with his gleaming rubies and approves and appreciates solemnly of what he sees.

A worthy woman. A courageous one.

One worth fighting for. To kill for.

And to breed…

It was no secret in your couple that the Chiss nearly got wiped out by a violent ice age after the implosion of their sun, and the repopulation efforts went so ingrained into their genetic that… Animalistic… Tendencies resurface during coupling times.

Females are fertile all year long, and males grow dangerously territorial and protective of their partners.

And as much as Thrawn prouds himself in his self control and mastery over his mind and body, he had no qualms letting go of his constraints when an old lover of yours came visiting unannounced.

Oh, he did not kill the poor man. Just terrified him to his core while you had your back turned. And maybe one bruise. But as the saying goes : all is fair in love and war, and Thrawn fairly explained to the fool that he had no chance against a Male Chiss in his prime.

After all, a man has the right to ensure the survival of his line, and he among them all, earned the right to have it prosper. His genetic and brain passed down onto a new generation, more babies for the Ascendancy, the survival of the species secured and even uplifted with a mother such as you.

Some of his kin would argue mingling with near-chiss would only muddy the purity of the species' genetic material, he would argue that he is strengthening its defenses and enrich it by diversifying it.

You are as worthy as any Chiss. As great and capable.

Once his time to return to the Ascendancy comes, he will show you off as his official partner. You won't have to lower you head to anyone else, not even the Mitth Blood.

Not even the Patriarch.

No one.

So silence yourself all you want, seductive creature. He'll have you screaming mercy for him soon enough…

He suckles your clit as he pushes a second finger in, stretching you up. Your legs tremble, you are drenched in sweat while your skin is covered in goosebumps.

So, so reactive… So, so delicious…

You gulp, trying to breath but the smell of sex is so powerful, your head is spinning. And the sounds… Oh dear Maker the sounds.

So wet.

So lewd.

Your little moans, his purr and growls, his fingers torturing your drenched cunt.

So obscene. So obsessive.

So intoxicating.

" Oh my… Maker…" You pant, the only intelligible sentence you have been able to pronounce since he started torturing you with pleasure.

He fingers you nasty style, hooking you up with his knuckles, entering as deep as his digits can go, and skim and love as many of your sweet spots they can access. He kneads and feel your tight walls, allowing him to open you up more and more, feeling your tight cunt relaxing around him.

Always a pleasure to work you up like that, Ch'acah, he muses to himself as he sucks your pearl like a lollipop.

"Ah…! Don't stop…! I'm so-" Your sentence is cut short by a wet mewl, drooling over yourself.

Stopping? When he is having so much fun? Certainly not.

You're not going anywhere, Ch'acah. You're stuck with him in this limo for a few hours at least.

He scissors you nice and good as he drums your pulsating bud passionately. He is making out with your pussy full on. He makes love with his mouth, tracing curves and making paintings.

It should be illegal to have such a flexible and precise tongue. He is as sharp with his words than his cunnilingus skills. Holy fuck.

He always made your knees buckle and your heart leaps with his tongue, it is dis.res.pect.ful.

He releases your other thighs to press down on your Venus mound, adding external pressure, and it precipitates your fall.

With a last flick of his tongue, you come undone and squirt violently into his open and thirsty mouth. Your entire body tenses up as you see white lights behind your eyes. You accidently press your legs close, caging your Chiss face against your quivering core, preventing him from breathing.

But instead of forcing your legs back open, he presses them tighter with his hands, forbidding you from releasing his head before you finish squirting onto his tongue.

Your silent scream finishes as your body finally relax, and you slouch back on the seats with a sigh of relief.

Phew, such orgasm always takes such a toll on your body… And Thrawn knows it all too well for your own good.

"Good. You seem prepared enough." He lets loom over you, reminding you that you are not done here yet.

You gulp, reopening your eyes to see your husband getting rid of his soiled jacket and top, his jaws still pearling of your essence he so gleefully drank, licking his lips.

Your gaze caresses the show in front of you, his smug expression, his wide chest, his sculpted abs, his tight waist… And his tensed pants.

He opens his white pants, revealing his tight boxer drenched in pre-cum and eagerness. He gets rid of his boots and finishes unclothing before you, finally freeing his erection. The tip is swollen and wet, it stands proud and erect, standing up to attention immediately, its ridges drawn sharply with his veins. The pre-cum is still leaking profusely, even after so long, and he takes advantage of it to lather and lubricate his entire length with it, pulling on the crown.

Again, you gulp.

He places himself back between your legs, pressing his fat tip to your pussy, teasing your slit up and down, lathering it with both your essence, before aligning himself with your entrance, and pushes past the tight ring of flesh.

"Ffffuck…!" You gasp out as you feel him invading your secret place.

"It's alright, Ch'acah…" He sussures, looming over you with his hypnotizing red eyes as he keeps getting deeper.

Your man was always so much to take in. So much stretching to invite him in.

He sniggers in his purr, breathing deeply as a sheer layer of sweat glistens on his deep blue skin, highlighting every well drawn muscle for the pleasure of your eyes only.

"So tight, my darling. It's even better than in my memories… You swallow me so well." He praises with his signature smug grin, "You drive me crazy, woman. I missed you."

You cannot help but melt. He missed you? Him?

What should you say about him then?

"I missed you too, Thrawn. So much…"

"We are together for a time. Let's enjoy each other."

And he fully lies on top of you to capture your lips in the most heart meltingly tender kiss. A kiss only he holds the secret of.

A kiss so reverent he made it an art form to better cherish you.

You hiss, barely any air left in your lungs as he finally buries himself to the hilt, his hips locked to yours. You gulp, your arms locked around his neck as you try to open your air ways, but you are just so stuffed and stretched…

"Tell me when you feel good, Ch'acah." He whispers, kissing your cheek, "I do not want it to be painful for you."

"Could you… My clit …? Please?" You let out.

"Of course, love."

His hand travels between your two bodies to tease and fondle your clit, easing out the tension in your flesh and muscles. You let out a sigh of relief, as he brushes his nose tip to yours playfully.

"You clench so hard around me. You choke the life out of me." He chuckles.

"You fill me like a stuffed… Dish!" You retort.

"I cannot help my size, I am afraid. I can only help you relax." He looks at your sorrily.

You look at him.

Squinting.

"You're not sorry for a single second, aren't you , Thrawn?" You demand.

He flashes you a lopsided grin.

"It is hard to, when you keep begging for always more of me."

You stick your tongue out at him, vexed.

"I love you so much, Ch'eo (Y/n)."

"I don't know if I do.'' You pout exaggeratedly.

"Ah. Whatever shall I do, then?" He asks, with a false afflicted expression.

"Say sorry with your body, perhaps?" You bite, contracting your pussy around his shaft, making him gasp.

"If you ask me, Ch'acah. I shall oblige."

He slips out, leaving only his tip, and sinks back in. He is still a piece of work to adjust around, but your body allows his movement without being difficult. And quickly, he is rutting into you with a steady rhythm.

He thrusts well, hitting your spots right and true easily, exploring depths no man before him discovered in you. You're so tight around him, you can feel his heartbeat through his wet tip, his girth warming you up from inside.

He hugs you tight with his free arm while he twists and kneads your little clit, puffing up your inner muscles, making them soft and thick for his cock to rest in and snuggles. Like an extra fluffy pillow, a sheath for his sword.

Just the perfect place for his cock to rest and anchor you down.

He thrusts in easily, your two essences mixing in, making lecherous and indecent wet sounds, flesh slapping flesh, huffed grunts and choked mewls, the raw scent of sex getting to your head, the pleasure electrifying your core and tensing you up to your finger tips.

Thrawn reconquers your lips, entering you with his tongue, allowing you to taste yourself with him. His tongue hugs yours as he hugs your body, shielding you from the rest of the world, protecting you as it his role as your Chiss.

You hiss in his kiss when he digs his nails into your skin, when the rocking if his hips gets harsher, when his grip on you tightens even more.

"You strangle me, Ch'acah." He growls, panting heavily, "You make me see stars each time your cunt contracts around me. It's incredible." He grabs under your thighs to press them to your chest, allowing him to deepen his plunging in your puffy flesh.

He works you up like a basic hoe, yet he is so reverent in gesture, like you were a queen, forcing the most ungodly mewls out of you as he pounds you down.

He fucks you like he would fuck royalty: Giving his all, yet with his utmost respect.

It turns you on so much…

He licks your cheek to your temple with a long groan, leaving more pheromones on your skin, marking you again just for good measure if the the ones he left on your sensitive puss were not enough. Always thinking ahead.

You look down between your body and feel your gut tightening at the sight of his thick cock sinking into you like sin, letting you admire a formidable bulge in your tummy as he enters in and out.

"Fuck…!" He hisses as a response, "Ch'acah… Don't toy with me." He threatens.

"I-I can't help it…!' You explain.

He angles your hips to hit just the right spot, making you spasm around him and drooling all over yourself.

"There. Teasing girls get what they deserve." He darkly chuckles as he bully his cock into you.

He impales you on his length without any kind of mercy or regard for your dignity, undulating his hips so deliciously your entire world spins off its axis, many stars exploding behind your eyes.

Your cunt twitches and dances around his shaft, gripping him tighter and tighter, until the tension coiling in your core snaps clean, forcing a scream of his name out of you, far from being silent this time.

Your arch your back as electricity explodes inside your veins, coursing your entire body, blinding you out you roll your eyes into your head. Your toes curl as your cunt immediately tenses round him, trying to retain him inside, throwing him off his rhythm. His hips stutter and he loses sped as he gets sloppy, until he buries himself one last time, up to hilt, to spill it all inside of you.

You moan out loud as the warmth of his creamy seeds invades your cunt, filling you up even more, your cunny greedily milking him out of every last drop he might have for you. You feel his cock twitching and spurting inside of you as he empties himself with a long sigh of satisfaction.

Your body, holding on by sheer desperation, collapses on the pricey seats of the limo, quacking all around with convulsions due to the aftershock.

Thrawn lazily claims your mouth for a sloppy and drooly kiss before sitting on his ankles, but keeping his dick well cosy in your wet warmth. He takes a long breath, caressing his hair back as he looks down at you from all his station.

His red eyes are just a sea or fire, his black pupils invisible in the red light of lust as he considers you, mute.

You gulp, trying to recover some dignity after that… Breeding session.

"Did you… have fun…?" You ask, catching you breath, whole wet with sweat in your dress.

He raises an eyebrow with a smirk.

"You ask that question like we are anywhere done, Ch'acah."

"… We aren't?" You gulp again, dreadful at the long night you now know awaits you.

A restful night in the arms of your husband is not yet on the menu yet, it seems. He wants more of the taste of your flesh and pleasure for himself…

He sniggers, licking his sharp fangs.

"I hope you did not plan on enjoying a full night of sleep in the next days, Ch'eo Ch'acah. Not when I just returned to you and my body craves you more than oxygen…"