#Yes there is a library in there somewhere

[sinisterexaggerator]

Happenstance

Hondo Ohnaka x Fem!Reader

Summary: You are a rich heiress with daddy issues; Hondo is an ex-pirate without purpose. Your fates are intertwined, and soon you will be too, unless the hired help can’t keep her mouth shut. Will your relationship advance, or is your meeting purely happenstance?

Content warning: 18+ / NSFW for alcohol / mention of drugs, fingering in a public place, kissing, blowjobs, dry humping, tit sucking, cunnilingus, PiV sex, daddy issues, alcoholic parent, neglectful parent, caught in the act, stealing, and HEAVY simping. Reader is WEALTHY. Reader's parents are at some point present in this fic. No physical description other than the fact she has a decent pair of tits.

Word count: 23.4k (SORRY)

Notes: Oh My God. I started this fic last Spring Break when I was still in graduate school, if you recall, and I just managed to finish it this week -- almost a year to the day. Don't ask me how it got to 23,000 words, but -- SO SORRY. I edited it to the best of my ability.

This is the longest single thing I have written with only two small breaks as a continuous story. I read Pirate's Price / listened to the audiobook version, and was inspired. Hondo lives rent-free in my head, as does Cad Bane. I should mention the bit about Hondo hiding his true intentions behind his goggles is an idea @allsystemsblue had some time ago and I agree. They are like a shield, barring view into his soul.

P.S.: Yes, I had to throw in a Cad Bane / Duros mention, and yes I threw in a scene in a library. I couldn't help myself. ;D

Read on Ao3

Ah, what a perfect evening for a teensy bit of excitement of another sort. Smooth jizz music provided a delightfully mellow atmosphere, the accompaniment of moderate lighting helping to facilitate a most relaxing experience. This particular high-priced cantina was bathed in a wash of dark hues and tantalizing scents, however one individual scent stood out from all the others - it was the unmistakable and arousing smell of profit! Hondo Ohnaka knew this odorous perfume like the back of his scaly hand – which was quite  well, in fact – and this time it had decided to take on the form of a beautiful woman wearing a rather priceless heirloom around her supple neck.

Oh, but this was no ordinary woman and no ordinary heirloom! This woman was one of the wealthiest women in the galaxy by no fortune of her own, and the priceless object she wore around her graceful neck was none other than a fragment of Life-crystal, a valuable stone only procured from one planet by the name of Rafa from the aptly labeled Life-orchards. Hondo only knew this from eavesdropping on the greedy aristocracy that populated this little rock. She was an heiress who most likely had many riches to her name; it was too tempting to pass up such an easy target. 

Despite the lore and interesting stories ascribed to the jewel in her possession, the important thing was that these Life-crystals sold for exorbitant amounts of credits on the black market from Batuu to Scarif, and it was this object that called to him like no other. Currently. As far as Hondo was concerned, that crystal belonged with him – that is, until he sold it – which hopefully would be as soon as possible once he laid his twitchy, ring-laden fingers on it. 

The crimson coated devil took note of his surroundings, drinking in the scenery, the song, the “ambiance,” if you will, as he mentally prepared himself for the task – or rather, game – at hand. This flashy establishment was situated in the middle of the entertainment district on Oseon 6845, the largest asteroid in the Oseon System. It was spattered with opulent hotels, stately residences, and venues for shopping, dining, gambling, and so much more. 

It was not important how he arrived here, but it was important that he find a means of transport on his way out. Hondo would no doubt have to make a quick getaway and possibly even a daring escape should the worst case scenario happen to occur – the one where he was caught red-handed!  It never hurt to think ahead.

Hondo recalled seeing an XS stock light freighter snugly nestled in its docking bay back at the local spaceport, not to mention many luxury starships. This thought somewhat quelled the anxious feeling in the pit of his stomach, though the pirate oftentimes felt butterflies before any sort of risky activity! The thrill, the chase - the not-knowing-what was-going-to-happen-next part – all very addicting and quite satisfying at the end of a hard day’s “work.”

Presently, however, his attention was captured by the thing he sought – all in due time for everything else – knowing that it was in his best interest to focus on one criminal undertaking at a time, though he was of course capable of multitasking. Adjusting his sleeves in turn and flicking a speck of something off the ornate cuff link of his decadent outerwear, Hondo sized up the fine specimen before him with a tilt of his head and a twinkle in his eye; it was just visible beyond thick black rectangles and reinforced transparisteel. 

This lovely creature who leisurely sipped her Toniray carried with her an air of… something. Nobility? No. Regality? Definitely not. Ennui? Perhaps. Or maybe it was an overwhelming sense of entitlement. Regardless, Hondo stepped forward with hands clasped firmly behind his back, unable to help his poor posture after all these years. He supposed he looked a bit out of place, what with his eclectic fashion sense and the swagger in his step, but that had never stopped him before, and it most certainly would not stop him now! It was then the Weequay had a unique thought: he could use her apparent boredom to his advantage. What that clearly entailed he had only a few seconds to figure out as she had already laid her eyes on him. And what captivating eyes they were. 

Oh, this would be easy, he realized, like taking candy from a youngling. He almost felt guilty – almost being the keyword here – but he had not too long ago disabled his pirate’s honor! There was no turning back for Hondo, not once his mind was made up once and for all!

That is, unless there was some unforeseen issue… one that he did not realize until it was already too late… 

Luckily, as of right. this. very. moment, that was not the case! The scoundrel had set his intentions. By the subtle shift in this woman’s posture  - the miniscule nuances of her body language – he knew – oh, he knew -- she would be receptive to the most fun game of all: the art; the craft of double-tongued seduction! This night may turn out to be awfullllly interesting indeed, he mused. 

--- 

A man approached you – if you could call him a man. He was not human, but Weequay, although he was dressed very peculiarly. You had been lounging with an expensive, rare, and azure Alderaanian wine. At a thousand credits a glass, it was nothing you could not afford as you were the daughter of a weapon’s dealer and manufacturer; your father had a contract with the Empire. You had not worked a day in your short life though boredom had set in. 

Your eyes traveled over this odd fellow, noting despite his eccentric look he was rather handsome in a sort of rugged, cavalier way. If you were being honest, this being having locked his sights on you like one of your father’s heatseeking missiles was the most exciting thing to have happened to you all week long. 

Though you were rich, your life was one of tedium and endless irritation mostly brought on by the rest of your family. You had your small pleasures, your haunts, and your dirty little secrets, but overall your days were dreary and uneventful. In fact, you did not have a good relationship with the majority of your siblings and your father’s work consumed him. You still harbored resentment for how many birthdays he had missed.

Considering these facts, you discreetly straightened your posture, taking another sip of your chosen beverage to project a façade of casual impassivity; there was no sense in appearing desperate for his regard. 

“Forgive me ef I am intruding – dhough as you sit alone, I du not believe dat I am -” the man began, pausing before you, “- but I couldn't help but notice your long face from across de room.” He offered a bow of his head, his right arm lifting ever so slowly for his bedecked digits to gently clasp and raise your hand. He planted a kiss against the back of it; your heart instantly fluttered despite yourself -- you had been disarmed. “A flower as radiant as you should not be made tu suffer so. Tell me, what ails you, my dear?” 

“Are you always so bold?” you asked without thinking, much to your regret. You were used to being approached by others, it came with the territory. Your family was famous in this system, and someone was always trying to inch their way into your admittedly small social circle.  However, in this instance you were intrigued, a little off-put, but also very much enjoying the attention of this dashing sentient. You did not try to dislodge your fingers from his grasp; you allowed him to naturally release your hand of his own accord.

The stranger smiled - or rather, grinned devilishly - revealing his pearly whites alongside shining gold. Your eyebrows raised ever so lightly in surprise, you having instinctually drawn your arm back once the man had finished with his somewhat antiquated mode of greeting; he was treating you as if you were some fair maiden in a holomovie from times of old, yet you were anything but. “Ah, yes, you see, bold es my middle name – one of dem, for I have many – alongside bastard, and scoundrel, and ‘hey you, get back here!’ Et es one of de… nicer tings I have been called.” 

The man settled in, resting one elbow casually on the bar top next to where you sat, fingers snapping briskly together as he called to the Duros behind the counter. “A drink, I tink!” Then, returning his attention to you, he lowered his voice, a low-pitched baritone replacing the sharper notes he had used seconds earlier to address the server. “But you ded not answer any of my questions. I am so curious tu know… what could make such a beautiful woman frown so very, very hard…” 

He trailed off, feigning he did not know anything about the preposterous amounts of money your family supposedly had to its name; he was amazed you were sitting here alone. Perhaps you had a bit of a rebellious streak. The one thing that made sense to him was that this “planet” was full of the well-to-do. Such little riffraff passed through Oseon, you had no need for bodyguards or security measures - unlike your father – perhaps a mistake. A mistake that would cost you quite a lot of credits! 

Yet, Hondo felt you should feel lucky. He was a rogue, a thief, a technically ex-pirate, but he would not be any of those things at the risk of your physical harm. No, no! He was not that kind of brigand, not anymore! Mental harm, perhaps. Harm to your ego - to your pocketbook - but that is where he drew the line! 

In fact, as of late, he had the thought of starting up a legitimate business of his own. 

Of course, he would require funds to undertake such a venture… There would be overhead costs - things he would need to purchase or otherwise procure by different means – and he was sure your little trinket would help to offset anything he could not ordinarily afford.

Yes, yes, he had nearly sold the Jedi Padawan Ahsoka Tano into slavery knowing that she would catch the eye of a… certain type of person. Yes, he had objectified and sexualized many species, including his own, both men and women – not to mention all his other crimes -  but! But, but, but, but, buttt! That was all behind him – pun intended – or so he liked to think! He supposed there was always a chance some impossibly-hard-to-ignore opportunity might present itself, but until. that. time, Hondo Ohnaka was a gentleman. 

It was when the server arrived that, unfortunately, Hondo realized he was rather short on credits, and that this fine venue was a little bit too rich for his jet-black blood. Under most circumstances, he would have ordered anyway, started a tab to walk out on later, convinced his latest victim-er-friend to buy him one, or merely walked behind the bar and poured it himself, yet today - today -  he decided to tell the truth. It was far more exciting that way, and excitement appeared to be the very thing you needed, for Hondo was rarely wrong in that respect. 

“Excuse me, my sweet,” he interrupted before you could even begin to answer his previous query, “but would you mind paying for dis old pirate’s drink? Credits are… so hard tu come by dese days. What you are having es fine,” he finished with another arresting smile. 

You sat quietly, captivated. Your brain needed a moment to catch up. You absentmindedly waved a hand to the bartender, asserting that it was OK, and to put it on your tab. The Duros produced another glass of Toniray, nearly the color of its scales, and the self-proclaimed pirate merrily swiped it from her outstretched hand before there was a chance to set it down. He took a measured swig then inspected it up close, drawing the imported wine near to his weathered goggles. “Ah, a fine vintage,” he declared. “Very rare and expensive, I presume.” 

“A thousand credits a glass,” you said offhand, twisting the stem of your flute against the bar top. The pirate nearly spat out his next sip of wine, though that would have been a waste, so instead he nearly choked while swallowing. 

“I daresay, dat es …more dan I anticipa-”

“-you’re welcome,” you interjected, the smallest of simpers curling the corner of your mouth. You took the opportunity to allow yourself another drink, watching him carefully over the rim of your pricey beverage. Even though you came off cool and collected, inside you felt a tingle of something akin to delight. You had never seen a pirate before, much less talked to one. Despite your station in life, you were more or less sheltered. The number of times you had stepped foot off this damned rock could be counted on one hand. 

“Oh-ho-ho, a woman with expensive tastes! On dat we can relate.” 

“On account of you being a pirate?” you inquired.

The way this Weequay’s smile split his face in twain should have been alarming, the brightness of his expression more luminous than the light of a thousand suns. He chuckled from the seat of his belly, throwing back another gulp of Toniray before he gazed at you with steely eyes, a twinkle residing deep within.

“As my beloved mother always used tu say, all dat glitters es not gold! Sometimes, et es someting even more valuable, like a much-needed vacation, or an interesting conversation,” the devil claimed, gesticulating with his hand as he circled back to his main point. “But, more importantly, de… company of a most gorgeous woman for de evening, hm?”

“Oh, is that why you’re here?” you teased. “You’ve decided to make a pass at me? And here I thought my ‘long face’ had you concerned.”

“My dear,” the nameless man began, the lush complexity of his timbre sending a shiver down your spine. “Are you calling me a liar?” he asked, even toned. His sudden seriousness caught you by surprise considering the circumstances. 

Your expression mimicked your abrupt change in mood, a slight look of embarrassment crossing your features as you stumbled to come up with an answer. This prompted the man to laugh so boisterously that the volume of his mirth caused you to startle in your seat. But you would be remiss if you failed to admit that the stern shade he had taken with you stirred something primal that could not so easily be explained. 

“Hondo does. not. lie,” the character before you blurted out, “he merely stretches de truth on occasion. But!” he continued, “enough about me, for now – though I am so very interesting – what of you, madam?” 

What Hondo failed to comprehend or notice - though the pirate could be said to always notice everything - was the reason for your sudden slack jawed stare. Your brain was whirring with memories – memories of your childhood – and the anger your father projected when storming about your house. Before the fall of the Galactic Republic, he had made his fortune selling weapons to both sides, covertly playing the field so well that he earned billions, but there was forever present a sharp thorn in his side.

By this point in your short history, at an age where you were cognizant of politics and war and their respective atrocities and outcomes, you were somewhat disgusted by your family trade. Growing up you had wanted nothing more than to be seen and heard, yet your father was always said to be preoccupied. 

Your disdain for him grew, as well as the company he spearheaded that raked in profits from death and destruction. There was only one thing that gave you a small reprieve and a tiny amount of joy – a household name that was spoken more times than you could count – the source of all your father’s woes and troubles -  a thing that made you smile when nothing else would, and it was the curse of one Pirate King, his title like music to your ears: Hondo Ohnaka, the venerable bane of your patriarch’s existence. And now, here he was, in all his waggish glory. 

One particular hyperspace route, the Shaltin tunnels, ran straight through the Sertar sector, home to Florrum and situated deep within the Outer Rim territories. No matter how many times or how many ways your father tried to deliver his goods to their respective buyers, it seemed the Ohnaka Gang was always there to disrupt his schedule. 

Though he never stepped foot outside his cozy office, more and more men died on route to Syngia Station nearly every day, all thanks to a notorious gang of miscreants. Although some did live to tell the tale, they came back empty-handed time and time again. Whatever wares were aboard those freighters became the personal property of one very crafty Weequay. The rush it gave you to see your father so distressed, the absolute glee you felt as you watched his veins pop out - it was exhilarating. 

It was like some kind of well-deserved revenge for all the wrongs he had committed, and for all those missed birthdays, holidays, and milestones. You loved seeing him so flustered and out of sorts. It was a reward for all the trouble you had to go through. 

For one, your mother was a rather lonely drunk, a lush for lack of a better word, and his absence only further drove her to the bottle. You blamed him for all life’s ails; your eldest brother remained an undisciplined, boorish loaf who wasted his life gambling, and you were stuck here on this Goddamn rock, though he would be the one to receive your family’s fortune in the event of your father’s untimely death.

For once, excitement had come to you. This man you suddenly wanted to kiss so badly had stepped foot into your life, and though he seemed to have no idea who you were or what was about to happen, you were trying and failing to remain calm. 

Still, that look of shock and awe, and something downright strange remained plastered on your face, the scoundrelly fellow shifting his body weight as he gave you an incredulous glance. He frowned, switching his attention down to the Toniray left in his glass. He finished it in one final swig, then made an observation as he studied the now empty flute. 

“I can… tell when I’m not wanted. I apologize for wasting your time. I shall take my leave of you,” he stated calmly while setting his vacant vessel down. 

You had to make sure; you could not let him scamper off, not without confirming his identity. “Wait!” you entreated, worried that you sounded a little too excitable. The Weequay’s eyes widened beneath his four-sided frames as he served you a questioning look, though it quickly dissipated, Hondo intrigued by this unexpected outburst. 

“Don’t go,” you half asked, half demanded of the trickster, your hand rising for you to return the Duros to you. “Bartender, another glass of Toniray,” you instructed, your eyes never once leaving the slanted, stormy gaze of the rogue just adjacent. You lightly touched his wrist as it lay limply against the bar top, fingers caressing the leathery skin that peeked from beneath the sleeve of his long coat. 

“Your mother sounds like an interesting woman,” you offered, motioning for him to take up residence at your side. “Join me?”

“Yes, dat she was. Dat. she. was.” His gloomy disposition melted before your very eyes like ice in a glass, though there was a pause; it was as if he was ruminating on some time long since passed. 

“Who am I tu deny you?” he finally quipped with a sweep of his forearm beneath his ribs. The knave bowed in a gesture of goodwill before he rose to take up a nearby stool. “And since you asked so very-very nicely-” he started, flipping his other arm right side up. Your teasing hand was involuntarily repositioned to lay within the center of his palm, not that you minded. “-how can I say no?” 

You endeavored to begin your impromptu interrogation without him noticing, though you were so antsy it was a wonder that you could stay still in your seat. You watched, charmed by his every movement, chewing idly on your bottom lip as the former pirate king appreciatively took his beverage from its resting place. 

He savored another sip, swirling its contents to absorb its aroma like a true connoisseur. You casually wondered how many wines this man had sampled in his lifetime, though he interrupted your train of thought before you delved too deep. “I am impressed, my little beauty, dat you would go out of your way tu spend such a hefty sum on little old me,” he passively admitted. “Es dere a reason for your… generosity?” 

“Are you the Hondo? As in, Hondo Ohnaka of the Ohnaka gang?” you blurted out, unable to control your inquisitive nature and desiring to know right then and there if this was the man that had kept your father awake at night all those years ago - so much for playing coy. 

“Ah, so you have heard of me,” the Weequay beamed, once more that infectious smile overtaking the entirety of his face as his ego was given a healthy boost of self-esteem. “Though I am no longer-” he crinkled his broad nose in mock disgust “-acquainted with de gang who stole my name, yes, I am he. He es me. I am Hondo Ohnaka, en de flesh.”

“Fuck,” you exhaled in a whisper, the expletive pulled from your lips with a sigh that bordered lewd. You made to remove your hand from his, pressing your already crossed legs together as you distracted yourself by biting into the perfectly manicured nail of your index finger. 

“What’s she like?” you randomly thought to ask, but more so to sedate yourself. “The mother of a pirate king – what kind of woman was she?” 

The thief was taken aback. Though not opposed to talking about his dear, sweet mother, Hondo could not help but notice the odd reaction to the affirmation of his given name. His smile became more nuanced, the layer visible to the people in the room one of joviality, while an alternative cognitive process vested itself and presented as the tiniest twist in his upper lip. He stowed what he had learned; for now he would do his best to entertain you, his wandering gaze studying the shape of your body before his stony eyes lingered, focusing for one millisecond – without detection - on your crystal necklace. Eyes on de prize, he thought, though now he believed there to be a chance of gaining more than one type of prize tonight. 

“She was wise beyond her years,” he began in a somber, yet affectionate cadence, “and always offered sound advice. Dhough my childhood ded not consist of fun and games, she taught me all she knew, namely how tu swindle an easy target!” The Weequay dallied to see if he had captured your full attention. You did not try to hide the fact that you were already hanging on his every word.

“No, dere were no hugs or lullabies for me, no creature comforts, nor any luxuries, but what we ded have between us was love – or, at least, I tink so, for a short time later she sold me intu slavery – and I will never forget her en all my days. Without my poor, sweet mother, I would not be de man I am tuday! Tu her I owe my life, even dhough she… often tried tu get rid of me before dis, but I du not love her any less! She did de best she could and dat, little one, es all dat matters en de end.”

What he failed to tell you were the fine details: how both his parents were nearly destitute with many mouths to feed; how his mother had kicked him out on more than one occasion when feeling cross with him; how a religion he did not believe in forced him into a life not of his choosing, and all because his kin had decided he was the easiest to sacrifice thanks to some… plastic, talkingnovelty, some children’s toy! But Hondo was not stupid – despite what some may think – he knew well enough they were in it for the profit to be made. Perhaps it was the greatest lesson of all that his mother had taught him: never trust anyone, not even your own clan. 

Instead of basking in the finality of his solemn words, you jumped - which was borderline disrespectful – to the next topic on your list. You could always apologize for your abundant enthusiasm later if need be, but for some reason you doubted that it would be a problem. 

“What happened to your merry band of pirates?” you asked, brushing your dress shoe against the Weequay’s ankle before you could put an end to it. Hondo responded by taking up his glass with one hand, while the other shamelessly placed itself upon your knee.

He chortled dryly, giving your leg a squeeze that made your pulse quicken and your heart race. “Dat, my ravishing beauty, es a story not worth repeating.”

“Tell me another one instead? A different story?” you chirruped, scooching closer until you were but a hairbreadth away from the handsome scoundrel, hip parallel to hip. You felt daring enough to uncross your legs, purposely rubbing your silky thigh against his trousers through the slit in your dress. You gingerly batted your lashes, knowing full well you were taking on the role of flirt, yet unable to control your most base desire. Currently, it was to simply touch the man in any way you could, or in any way he might allow. 

“Hmm, yes,” he hummed, his bony fingers drifting lazily from the cusp of your knee to the beginnings of your thigh, “I can… tink of someting dat may … pique your interest. A tale of one of my many successful business ventures, perhaps.” 

“Please,” you cooed, leaning closer still for the curve of your shoulder to playfully graze against armored plating; wisps of your hair swept across his sensitive frills, though ironically you did not know anything about alien biology, much less Weequay. You purred out a tiny whisper of satisfaction as his hand trailed upward, the heat between your legs beginning to build upon itself in spite of you just having met this man. Though the smile he gave you was of cartoonish proportions, there was just something about it, not to mention the reputation that preceded him that was nearly causing you to come undone.

With elegant precision, Hondo set down his glass, callous digits curling to rise and stroke the underside of your chin as he gazed resolutely into your eyes. Then, he asked if you had ever heard of a particular arms manufacturer with a particular name. 

The aforementioned organization was the one run by your father. With your best sabacc face you shrugged, though the suspense was killing you. You were about to hear one of your father’s tales from the perspective of the Pirate King himself. You were doing your utmost to contain your zeal, among other things; it was absolutely serendipitous, a moment of happenstance. 

“You see, dis, company, dis, organization - whatever you want tu call et – must have had one of de dumbest persons en charge of deir logistics, because no matter how. many. times. dey sent deir fancy cargo ships off entu space, Ohnaka and his gang, we took what was rightfully ours. By rightfully, of course, I mean de… fact dat dey were en our territory, and once you step foot – or fly ship – entu Hondo’s very backyard, why, you have no right tu question de king en his own domain!”

“Mhm,” you muttered, your foot still fondling his ankle as you leaned over on your elbow against the bar. You observed his voice to be expressive and melodic, each word articulated eloquently despite his decidedly swift pace. He was just getting warmed up, yet you felt you could listen to him talk all night should it please him as much as it pleased you.

Hondo embraced the meat of your thigh with another soft squeeze before ever so slowly inching up once more. You reined in a lustful utterance, compressing your lips to form a line as you refused to give in so easily to your increasingly obscene impulses. 

He continued with his tale. 

“Et just so happens – on dis specific occasion – dat dese weapons were on route tu a Jedi general! I intercepted, not knowing any better, of course, claiming de very expensive, very important missiles for myself.” 

Hondo paused, taking another delicate sip of his Toniray as you blinked languidly, wanting him to continue as soon as possible. “You knew Jedi?” you asked, enthralled.

“Of course I knew Jedi! Hondo knows – well, knew – many, many Jedi en his time. Considering dis man I was speaking of, dis general, tu be my friend, I had a devious plan dat would work out en both our favors…” 

He trailed off; you squealed audibly in disappointment, a low, profoundly  resonate chuckle rising up from the pit of his throat to rumble just beside you. The ruffian had drifted closer, the tip of his flat nose nuzzling the smooth skin along your neck as it came to rest in the divot behind your ear. 

You shuddered reflexively, letting a faint gasp escape you as Hondo’s fingers toyed with the fabric of your dress. “So eager tu hear de rest, aren’t we, little one?”

“Yes,” you practically pleaded. You turned on your stool to fully face him, leaning in so close that you felt your lips might touch. The cunning rascal only grinned again, this time leaving his cup behind to lightly run a thumb crossways your pouty mouth, the rest of his wiry digits tenderly wrapping around the bend of your cheek.

“So eager… for someting else,” he stated, though that did not stop him from recounting more of his adventure. “Dis Jedi - trusting old Hondo as well he should - came tu me, realizing dat dis particular dealer was … unreliable. He knew I was a purveyor of many, many tings, and he assumed – correctly, might I add – dat I had connections tu get dese tings he wanted.”

The Weequay had pulled away from you just marginally, enough to look you in the eye again. You whined a nearly indiscernible sound of protest, your fingers drifting downward to clasp the hand that still relaxed along your thigh. Ever so slowly you began to guide it, Hondo releasing a pent-up breath through his nostrils as his smile took on a hint of mischief. He relaxed his arm and let you take the lead. 

“Dere were many battles,” he remarked boastfully. “Each one was more exciting dan de last. Dey upped deir security forces, tried tu establish an alternative route with little success, and de man himself, de hoity-toity richly rich guy even went so far as tu learn of my private comm frequency so he could scold me en, well, person!”

By this time, he had worked himself up, Hondo gripping your thigh a tad harder in his fervor. You carefully caressed the back of his hand. He seemed to settle, or at least enough to release the pressure behind his grasp, but at the idea of your father being so stark raving mad that he had solicited this wily pirate for a cease and desist forced you to suppress a grin as you presently returned to gnawing on your bottom lip. You spread your legs a little wider as you snuggled up close to the much older man, making sure your knees touched; he hummed a sweet sound of gratitude, coming off his high horse to speak at a more suitable volume.  

“Oh, he was … so, so livid… I thought for sure de guy would have a heart attack right den and dere, but fortunately, or maybe rather unfortunately, he ded not.” Your arousal currently trumped your amusement, even as a visual of your father in one of his disagreeable moods found its way into your thoughts once more. You nodded to inform him you were still being attentive, your free hand undertaking a courageous feat when you laid it upon his chest. 

You did the very thing he had sought to do all evening, yet not wanting to earn your distrust or ire from the outset; you toyed with the tiny charms that dangled about his neck as he craved a chance to touch the Life-crystal that lived around yours. He withheld any comment, even as you languorously traced a path down the cut between his firm pectorals. He gazed at you with heavy-lidded eyes behind his goggles before he dived back in, his voice having lost its ebullient tone all together to be supplanted by something a bit more sultry and seductive. 

“His eyes, dey bulged, as ef I had my boot on de back of his head. He spoke of profits lost and some personal grievances of his.” He tittered wryly, noticing your extremity felt warm to the touch. “My little flower, you’re blushing,” he noted matter of fact before finishing his thought. 

“I said tu him, my good sir, as my beloved mother always told me, du not put all your nuna eggs en one basket – et es bad for business. Ef you drop de basket, you have no eggs, however, should you spread your legs – I mean, eggs - out over many, many baskets… dere es more of a chance you will still have some tu-” his voice dropped emphatically lower, “-eat.”

You caught fire the same time you caught onto his innuendo regardless of how lascivious or ridiculous it had been. You finally took your innocent fraternizing to another level, ushering the Weequay’s lengthy fingers all the way up and beneath your skirt. 

A small breath hitched in Hondo’s chest though nearly undetectable. He tensed minutely before he relaxed. The only change in his outward appearance was the torsion of his cheeky grin into an expression that was on the verge of evincing scuzz and sleaze; it only further impassioned the inferno that was quickly catching ablaze within your loins. 

Once accomplishing your task, both your arms lifted to capture the pirate’s neck in a loose and lighthearted hold. You dangled somewhat awkwardly around his shoulders, your lips daringly planting a soft peppering of kisses across his weathered cheeks and then reverently across his mouth; his bottom lip was so full, so plush. You could not help but spend an extra moment there, gently pressing your teeth into his flesh. 

Hondo sighed in yearning, enjoying the inundation of spontaneous affection, so long it had been for a woman of your caliber, or any woman at all, to pay him any mind. Perhaps it could be blamed on the reality his majesty kept tucked away inside; the reality where he no longer tried to keep close to anyone for fear of what the future might bring later down the road. Too many times had the Weequay allowed his heart to reside unprotected on his sleeve, and whether it be men, women, his rambunctious band of outlaws, or the fading memory of a once great love, he dare not tread that path again, or walk that line so closely to the edge. 

But, he had to remember, you were just a woman. A woman with a valuable and priceless jewel hanging around her neck; one that he wanted, and he still thought – though his thoughts were now heavily clouded – that he could use your rapacious neediness to receive an undue windfall, and just in time, for he had debts to settle.

No one seemed to pay you any mind, the rapscallion Sriluurian taking your more than obvious hint to brush the tips of dusky fingers along the silken fabric of your panties. He exuded a hushed moan, your sex having already left a moist outline from where your arousal spilled over to dampen your undergarments, but so heavenly a thing it was, the pirate had no complaints to offer but a semblance of praise instead.

“My dear, you are-” he whispered delightedly, “-so… unbelievably… wet.” 

You nodded, kissing him again in tiny, unhurried spurts directly on the mouth, your hips rocking gently forward to encourage further exploration beneath your dress. 

He obliged, Hondo gingerly teasing your already soaked cunt by staying above the thin strip of cloth that guarded your aching sex. His touch was so featherlight it simultaneously infuriated and stimulated you to beseech him for something more. 

“Hondo,” you breathlessly announced his name, “come with me,” you implored him, your voice a whine against his lips as you covertly slipped your tongue past ivory and gold to lap at tongue and teeth.

“Mm, darling …” The pirate’s words were temperate, spoken between playful licks and nips.  “Tugether? At de same time? I would love tu,” he insinuated artfully. “I also du not mind waiting my turn.” 

The Weequay’s dexterous digits slid your panties to the side, his last three fingers gathering the fabric as his thumb discreetly aided his index in parting your velvet folds. He exhaled into you, a wanton groan escaping him in muted notes as he saturated himself in your warm slick. 

He took his time, glossing your sensitive clit with the pad of a surprisingly soft thumb as he slid his stool closer to yours. A wave of all-encompassing desire surged through your core as you emitted a prurient gasp; it shortly devolved into a piteous mewl of pleasure, and the scoundrel had barely touched you. The music was thankfully loud enough - and the barkeep too busy serving others – for anyone to discover what was truly happening. From an outsider’s perspective, you may have looked like two lovers kissing, and perhaps it was not far from the truth.

“Oh, God, fuck,” you murmured shyly against scarred and sand-worn lips, though they were still so tantalizing and palatable. A bassy hum commenced, reverberating in such a way it immediately soothed you, despite it transitioning into a throaty chuckle. The scamp had begun to work precise, intricate circles around your swollen pearl.  

“Not a God, sweet one, but de thought es appreciated,” he retorted before bringing the conversation back around. “I… never finished my story,” he informed you in an indolent tone, Hondo having pulled away from your mouth to grace your neck with downy kisses, the Weequay continuing where he left off, even as he nursed off the taste of your skin and surreptitiously drove you toward an orgasm; he hardly exerted any effort in the process.

“You see, it was den de Jedi paid me tu deliver weapons tu dem.” More kisses were sprinkled delicately along your jaw. “I skimmed off de top – a finder’s fee, ef you will - for every freighter I intercepted.” 

The patient swirling beneath your skirt forced you to grip both sides of the pirate’s foppish lapel as you suppressed what would have been a rather crude noise. You had a sudden, powerful need to press your mouth against his, your intense hunger nearly consuming you as he unapologetically persisted in delighting you in public; you were practically strangers, yet he felt so familiar to you. 

“Soon, I had a great deal of firepower at my disposal, and quite a lot of credits tu my name.” The Weequay cradled your cheek as he trailed his wandering lips toward yours again. “I was one of de most feared and infamous pirates in all de galaxy,” he claimed, his voice dropping in volume once more as he reminisced. 

“You still are,” you panted, voice quavering as you were so close to the edge, so close to coming already that Hondo was brought back to the present moment by your words. He positioned his palm beneath your chin, winding his spindly fingers around its point as he forced you to refocus and look him in the eyes.

“So sweet of you tu say.” Your tongue slithered back inside his mouth, Hondo’s a roiling thick, black muscle that danced around yours with such enthusiasm that it drove you to the brink, a lust filled cry quickly cut off as he waded farther down your pharynx. It was an attempt to pacify you, Hondo not wanting to cause a stir and create a cause for gossip – you were a notable woman, after all.

His stratagem worked; you came quietly, pitiable whimpers and caught breaths engulfed by the thief as if sucking your soul from out your body while he deepened the kiss even still. His free hand massaged the back of your neck and shoulders as you descended back down to earth, or rather asteroid, from off your peak. What you did not detect or even feel was his unfastening of the chain that bore the weight of your favorite charm; it had occurred with such mastery that his expert movements had gone unnoticed. At some point the pirate had pocketed the Life-crystal from its place along your throat, and you were none the wiser - not at first.

“I want you,” you brazenly admitted once some vestige of sanity returned to you. “I need you, Hondo Ohnaka, my Lord, my Liege, my Pirate King,” you crooned airily between more furtive, wistful kisses. “Please,” you implored, “don’t make me beg,” you urged, the soft press of your lips breaking away to gather just below his ear.  

Perhaps this time the man felt a little out of sorts himself, maybe, just maybe, not expecting your affection for him to run so deep so quickly. Of course, that was not to say that this sort of thing had not happened many, many times before! This was not Hondo Ohnaka’s first. jump. into. hyperspace - not to detract from the absolute satisfaction he felt wholly within – but he never once grew tired of having an attractive sentient pine for more of his winsome company. 

“Ah, you are a go-getter. I admire dat,” he conceded, burying himself in the crook of your neck as he returned the gesture, interspersing more physical shows of adoration in the form of pecks across your collarbone. “And… just what would you do with me?” he asked, not bothering to disengage from the task at hand.

“Treat you as the king you are,” you said without missing a beat. “Let me show you,” you offered as you pushed off your stool, the Weequay’s hand being returned to him as it slipped out from beneath your skirt. You slid forward, interlocking your fingers amongst his, drawing that dexterous appendage toward your face before your tongue snaked out. You licked the remnants of your own slick off the devil’s ribbed digits as you moaned a salacious little sound; it took Hondo’s very breath away. 

The charmer found that he himself was entranced, beguiled by your display, losing himself in the sensation of your mouth around his finger. In fact, he was semi-speechless, which seldom happened, if at all, angled, achromatic eyes watching intently until you finally had the decency to free him from your spell. 

“Et es… hard tu reject such a… compelling argument,” Hondo tremulously muttered, his oblique hues never once leaving you as you trailed your tongue across your upper lip and top row of teeth. You cast a sultry glance, retaking the scoundrel’s hand as you began to pull, convincing the man to get up from off his rear and follow you. 

“Are you sure you’ve thought dis through?” he asked more out of curiosity, pondering the cognitive operation that led you to make such a rash decision. It definitely wasn’t because he was worried, knowing you may soon realize your beloved Life-crystal had suddenly gone missing in his notoriously thieving presence. 

One might say that question was meant more for himself. While more often than not flying by the seat of his trousers, on occasion the madman had a dastardly plan. In this case, he had premeditated only as far as this, not expecting or accounting for your very flattering and pleasantly surprising gusto toward his person.

This wasn’t to say he could blame you – Hondo was well aware of his physical attractiveness and that his reputation was known far and wide for many reasons - though it was a bolster to his confidence, nonetheless. He found the answer to his query was a nonverbal one as you had made it a point to steer him in the direction of the cantina doors, the pirate playing along for he was intrigued, on top of other things.

“No, but where’s the fun in that?” you replied on your way to the exit, stealthily relaying an order by the single press of a particular button on your wrist comm -- it summoned the immediate attention of your driver, signaling that you were ready to leave this place and expected your hovercar to be waiting at your leisure. Otherwise, you maneuvered between tables, chairs, and other bar goers, all the while actively encouraging your amused captive to stay close by your side. He indulged you, the dark chortle that impishly resounded behind closed lips threatening to loosen your already slack grip on what little composure you had left.

“Ah, a woman after my own heart,” he professed in response to your gratifying answer. “I find dat a bit of spontaneity en life es good for de sou-”

Hondo did not have time to finish; you had both made your way past the double doors. Urgently, you pulled him toward you, pressing a firm kiss upon his mouth.  His words died in his throat, dissolving into nothing more than a docile moan, his arms slowly rising so that both his hands might find their way to rest gingerly on either side of your pretty face. The tenderness of this singular act made your heart pump faster; you slowly drove him backward the two paces it took to reach one of the many panes of transparisteel that lined the building, the viewports of this bar extending beyond the height of the average man. 

He took it all in stride, allowing you to have your way; what would be the reason not to? He pondered this as his decorated fingers skirted the curve of your jaw to apply themselves just behind your delicate little ears, drawing your exquisite visage closer as he finally made contact with the window just behind thanks to your forthright escort. 

“Mn, my lovely little bird,” he cooed against your lips, “you make dis old Weequay feel wanted,” he confessed, perhaps permitting himself to be too vulnerable. It was no secret, or at least no secret to him, that he often craved the fellowship of some comely creature, or anyone at all. His was now a lonely life, traversing the galaxy in whatever way might suit his fancy, whimsy being the sole directive that propelled him from place to place.

Of course, that is exactly the opposite of what he told himself. Yes, he had lost his crew, his men, his fortress, his credits, his women, and even his Kowakian monkey-lizards! But!— he did not need them, or so he told himself. Hondo was more than the sum of all these things put together! He was a man who had accomplished so much already! And he was still… relatively young, there was still time, and perhaps he could right his reputation – for all the good it did or did not do him – to not be seen as a pirate, but a legitimate business owner with a new place carved out for him among the history books.

Still, at that moment, it did not quell his ache for this to somehow not be too good to be true as you pulled away, looking the Weequay in his uniquely askance eyes. 

It was there with Hondo pressed against the wall of glass that you saw your own reflection from the corner of your vision. Pleased that you did not appear too disheveled after the sordid affair inside, you did a brief double take as you realized your favorite piece of jewelry had gone missing. You paused cursorily before gazing back at him, a playful smile exhibited despite just learning that you had been robbed. 

“That’s because you are,” you returned with another kiss, quickly taking up his hand to usher him toward the appearance of an airspeeder that had slid to a halt at the end of the walkway. Your chauffeur had already opened the automated door, revealing luxurious, cushy seats on either side and a tinted pane of transparisteel that would give you privacy, though you fairly trusted the man who would fly you to your destination. Still, you had plans he was not privy to. 

“This way,” you guided him, pulling Hondo along as you crawled in first. The scoundrel followed, taking the seat opposite yours as the door slid closed, pewter irises absorbing their surroundings as your guest inspected your opulent ride. 

“Dis es quite de vehicle,” he commented, perhaps feigning being impressed more than truly affected by its extravagant size and ostentatious interior. “Et es yours?” he questioned you curiously, though sure that he already knew the answer. 

You presently ignored him as you actuated the comm panel built into a nearby console, your voice calling out to your duteous wheelman as you gazed unwaveringly into Hondo’s eyes. “Home,” you instructed him, continuing to stare unapologetically with a hungry look as the thief leaned back and got comfortable, a saucy smile tugging at the edges of his mouth.

“You are … taking me home tu mother, yes?” he teased, knowing full well he was not the “take home to mother” sort, however, that was more or less the case.

The airspeeder began to move, joining the faint traffic that existed on this space rock, however fashioned to look as if its surface were hospitable to life. Synthetic trees whizzed by, accompanied by an assortment of lights as you zipped past The Esplanade. It was a pedestrian thoroughfare known for its fine shopping and dining, though you did not let that distract you as you persisted in admiring your catch. This time, your study of the Weequay was once more complemented by a nibble to your bottom lip. 

“You are clearly awestruck by my illustrious presence. Of course, dis es tu be expected. I completely understand. Aldhough, considering you were not shy en de cantina, I thought perh-”

You whisked forward, nimbly placing your knees on either side of his muscular thighs as you came in to straddle his lap. You planted yourself firmly astride him, both arms reaching up for your explorative fingers to wind their way between his frills as you moved in to kiss him once again; your need for the pirate was voracious and quite possibly unquenchable, yet so sudden was its onset. 

Hondo had laughed as you approached so deliberately, though the sound of his amusement was cut short as your tongue snuck its way inside his already opened maw just for the sake of another taste. The rogue’s gaiety at once quieted, only to be replaced by a receptive moan as he settled in with you against the posh seating of your transport. 

“Dat es de spot…” His comment was muffled by your kiss, Hondo reveling in the gentle caress of your human fingers as they danced between the sharp barbs along his jowls.

You abruptly halted your barrage. “I know you pilfered my necklace,”  you whispered against his supple lips without further elaboration. 

He froze, as if caught in a hovercar’s high beams, the shoulders and neck of the Weequay stiffening as your hands found their way down, down, until your fingers casually wrapped themselves around his throat. Your thumbs worked a pattern against his tough and scaly skin, though perhaps the charming devil may have thought you were planning to choke him right then and there. 

He laughed again, this time nervously, his head marginally tipping back as his gray eyes regarded you behind his goggles. He kept a blaster on his person, after all, though it would be a shame to have to use it on such a seemingly defenseless woman. Ah, but he knew better than to fall for that! Yet, he took his chances. Danger was as alluring as it was … dangerous.  

“I was… hoping you would not notice,” Hondo admitted with a kind of passive defeat, his musical voice having lowered an octave and holding within it a modicum of what you thought might be shame, or guilt.

“It’s an honor,” you teased, humming against his mouth; it was contorted in his blatant bewilderment as you slyly swept your tongue across his own, so warm and sweet. You could not help it; you gently gyrated your hips as you pressed your clothed sex against his loins, the heat in your core building as you sighed out a contented, airy breath.

“I…” he began longingly, Hondo transported back to salacious thoughts. Your provocative position across his lower half was not helping matters, as he was caught between being somewhat flabbergasted and highly aroused. 

“I don’t care,” you assured him softly, your hands sliding down the pirate’s throat to brush past the armored plating of his crimson coat. Your fingertips trailed along the intricate filigree-like pattern woven into its fine threads, swirling to match the shapes, until you arrived at his gaudy belt buckle. The texture of its design was cool against your skin. 

“Dat es … wonderful news …” he barely managed as the width of your splayed palm serried itself between you. You carefully groped the bulge that had begun to form beneath his trousers, nearly moaning outright at the feeling of it twitching in response to your measured touch. 

Hondo himself took a moment to recoup, releasing a pent-up breath. He was not surprised you had caught on, he had only hoped it would have been after he had made a hasty getaway. Of course, agreeing to accompany you elsewhere was his first mistake.

Et's dese little details dat will get you entu trouble every time, he mused. 

“You mean tu say… dat I may keep et?” he asked, perplexed. Your lips had already found their next target; they planted themselves one time after another across each raised line that was etched into his neck. He crooned out a little noise - you had never touched a Weequay before this night, and you were so very curious as your fingers tenderly kneaded the now fully swollen protrusion flexing against your palm.

“Yes,” you murmured, working your way up and over beyond his distinctive frills to administer another round of sensual kisses to the striated flesh of his angular cheek. From there beyond, you traveled to meet his lips once more, skirting the surface of his bottom rung with your teeth as you silently begged for a quick admittance. 

The once great pirate king chuckled lazily as his weight slightly shifted under your own, Hondo’s hips rolling faintly beneath your grasp as he admired the sensation of your tepid hand cradling his cock. Still, it would be neglectful if he did not admit he was very, very, skeptical, the scoundrel hoping to remain mindful of the situation at the same time you had decided to deliciously squeeze his dick – it made everything ten times harder and in more ways than one.

“Ut-ut-ut,” he intoned quietly, feeling a pleasurable ache flooding his senses as your index finger had found its way to the slit at the head of his cock. “Wait-,” he began, “-but et es worth at least two mill-”

“Five million credits,” you cut him off, speaking directly into his mouth before your eager tongue worked its way past gold capped teeth to twirl around his own.

He attempted to continue to talk, even as you kissed him. “Dis es not some sort of trick? You are not pulling one over on old Hondo? I should have known better dan tu trust de intel I received!” he practically shouted, though you kept on with your mission as you replied.

“Hm? Mn-mn,” you responded, questioning exactly what he meant as you shook your head in the negative to indicate you were being honest about your intentions, unlike the pirate whose lap you were currently roosted in. 

“What intel?” you whispered along his still flapping lips, your occupied hand painstakingly aligning his erection along the outside of your already damp panties. You finally let go only to begin undulating your hips while you simultaneously massaged his cock through the seam of his pants.

Hondo gave a lecherous groan, such was the sensation of you rubbing so shamelessly across his hardened member, even if only atop your clothes. It was becoming difficult for him to think clearly, and to form words, his own hands finally coming to rest gently along either side of your waist as he endeavored to keep you still. 

“Dat…dat you are… so very, very rich, and so very, very bored.” He took a slow, deep inhale, attempting to contain his lust.  “Dhough now, I wonder ef dis was all a ploy tu incriminate me. Perhaps you plan tu turn me en? Du you… work alone? Where are we really going, little minx?”

You gently pulled away, muttering placidly into his intriguing, pointed ear. “I was bored-” you corrected him, “-and I am very, very rich,” you finished with a mischievous smile, slightly intensifying the rhythm of your hips. 

In the midst of confessing your financial status and attesting to your continual ennui, your arms rose for you to remove the backs to both your earrings; they were fashioned from Krayt Dragon pearl and as a pair worth a hundred thousand credits each. You collected them in one hand as your other collected his, placing them directly in the center of his open palm. 

“Take these, too,” you offered as the intense heat in your belly further expanded, the friction from the outline of his hard-on luring a tiny whimper to the surface as you leaned back in, both arms now encircling the Weequay’s neck and head as you pushed him forward, giving him full access to your breasts.

Hondo found himself being smothered by a pair of luscious, humanoid tits; he favored them - as seemed liked the natural thing to do; his species was also endowed with such a gift – he was very familiar. Weequay, though considered to be reptilian thanks to their evolutionary adaptations - including blaster-resistant scales - were warmblooded. The women were proof of that. And, just like other warm-bloods, you had those things that were so soft, pliable, and hypnotizing. 

The pirate did not complain as his oxygen supply was momentarily cut off, though he gave a muffled, somewhat exaggerated chortle as he pocketed the earrings, letting his guard down just a little more as he used both hands now free to compress those doughy objects against either side of his cheeks and not his frills – stabbing you with the spiky protrusions that grew out of his face seemed like it would ruin the mood, to put it mildly.  

“Oh, you are a naughty, naughty thing, ah?” His question was suppressed by the fleshy mounds of your chest, the man having begun to carefully work them between his adroit digits as you felt a gentle nip that made you chirp. This only triggered the pirate to titter throatily, the flat of his broad tongue licking a stripe between the cleft of your cleavage.

“I love an enterprising woman who knows exactly what she wants-” he complimented, “-and how tu get et.” 

Following this bout of praise, Hondo lifted one breast from the confines of your dress to be revealed, the scoundrel’s unexpectedly well-kempt-for-a-pirate’s teeth placing your sensitive nipple between them. He nibbled ever-so-slightly before intaking it to suck, the rhythm of his tongue causing you to gasp as you continued to grind against the firm outline so perfectly arranged - it was pushing you toward your second orgasm of the evening - you had no shame. 

You continued to clutch at the back of his head as you rocked slowly across his lap, your breath quickening as he skillfully sought out his reward; the little noises you made were more than enough to stoke the fire in his heart, the Weequay’s suckling of your teat becoming more nuanced and refined with every small reaction your body gave.

“You’re so good at that; don’t stop,” you murmured readily, the scoundrel obliging as he kept his pace. 

Within moments, you had edged your way to the cusp of pleasure once more. This time, Hondo allowed you to vocalize as you cooed for him such pleasing sounds, riding the wave to its end before you perceptibly relaxed. 

The pirate unlocked his jaws, adjusting your rack for you as he refitted them where they belonged. He made a flippant comment to boot, though meaning no ill-will; he was just surprised, and maybe a tiny bit proud of himself.  “Well, dat was easy.”

You grinned as you pulled away, not having time to respond as your journey came to its end. Now properly tousled, and more aroused than ever, you crawled off his person as the door began to open to reveal the path that would lead you to your home. 

“We’re not finished,” you assured him, hopping up from your seat and exiting the vehicle. Hondo hesitated, as his erection had yet to subside, though he peered out to admire the lush, artificial foliage, the sprightly water fountain, and the ornate stairwell he would have to climb in order to reach a set of decorative double doors. It was more extravagant than his old fortress back on Florrum, akin to a palace, or a compound – not something as rinky-dink as a mere mansion!

“Well, well, well, es dis de Fountain Palace of Hapes? De … Castle of Per'Agthra, perhaps?” the pirate joked, finally exiting the hovercar so that your driver could attend to its proper storage. Your family had many modes of transport to their name, this airspeeder only one of them, not to mention the SoroSuub Personal Luxury Yacht 3000 parked at this planetoid’s northern pole; it could be ready to go at a moment’s notice.

“This is where I live,” you stated plainly, using all of your self-control to keep your mitts off him as two attendants came forward to offer their assistance. None was needed, so you began to shoo them away with a dismissive wave, the other hand reaching out to clasp Hondo’s bony fingers as you guided him onward and up into your family’s ridiculously prodigal home. 

“Time for a tour,” you asserted lasciviously, your voice having dropped a note lower as you dragged him beyond the doors splayed open for you by a man in a crisply ironed suit. They only needed a small push before the mechanics took over, yet the theatrics and the aesthetics of an old-fashioned door had been your mother’s idea.

A woman waited for you once they had parted, though she was not your matriarch. She was the caretaker of your vast property – a housekeeper of sorts - an Arthurian with white hair who wore gloves upon her hands as was her species’ custom; she would only make eye contact with you whilst speaking as to her any other time was considered rude.

“You did not inform me we would have a guest,” she remarked, her gaze diverting to silently judge the manner of dress of the person at your side. She then turned back to you, most likely noting your rumpled appearance by the slight scrunching of her nose. “I was not prepared. My apologies.”

“Greetings, Madam,” Hondo began, moving to take a bow as he of course assumed that everyone would be interested in knowing more about him. In your heart, you knew he was not wrong, but it would not serve you in the here and now. 

“I am-”  

“-This is… Orb Orenk,” you interjected. The look the man gave you indicated he was affronted, just as you had feared.

“I was asked by father to retrieve him from Club Corusca. He is a new business associate of his,” you lied, hoping that she might buy it.

This woman, who was so loyal to your father that she knew his schedule like the back of her hand, gave the perfectly polished floor a peculiar expression, finally raising her eyes to look into your own once more. “Your father, last I checked, has been delayed. He will not arrive for some two rotations,” she finalized.

“Oh, well, then I suppose I shall have to entertain him,” you shrugged, taking up the Weequay’s hand again as you began to escort him past the massive foyer and into a large hall. You could feel the Arthurian staring at the back of your head as you made your way, just happy that she had kept her peace for now, even if she did not believe you one iota. 

This was your home, you rationalized, though she was like its eyes and ears. At least you felt safe in the fact your father would not return for a few days’ time. The only thing that had you worried was the possibility of her recognizing your guest of honor, though so far so good, and you were at this point bound to take your chances.

Presently, however, Hondo was barely hiding his indignation as you tugged him along behind you, though somewhat distracted by all the attractive, valuable objects that were on display, as your abode was fashioned with all sorts of expensive things. 

“I daresay I am wounded. Dat was uncalled-for,” he lightly scolded, “are you now embarrassed of me?” he questioned, pondering on your reasoning for giving your housekeeper a false name when you had embraced him back at the cantina for who he was.

In reality, Hondo knew what it was like to have a need to hide your identity very, very well! Still, it did not hurt any less, for his reputation was the one thing he still had left to him.

Not that it was a good reputation. He had been labeled a brigand, a rogue, and an all-around scoundrel! This was of course in addition to a smuggler, a conman, and a pirate! 

As if this were all negative! A. very. unfair. assumption! Hondo Ohnaka had honor! And he was many, many things all at once, some of them more unsavory than others, and some, well, just came with the territory.

But he was also a lover, a poet, and a strategist! For now, he was a pouter, jutting out his bottom lip as he was currently offended. Once you had him far enough away, you paused, turning to face him.

Oh, that look. You heart sank as he stared at you behind timeworn transparisteel. You leaned in and took the base of his jaw in your hand, your fingers bypassing and weaving between his distinguished frills as you caressed the Weequay’s cheek with a back and forth stroking of your thumb. 

“No,” you breathed out, overcome once more with lust as you pressed your lips to his. You trailed tender kisses along his mouth and to either corner before imparting your true feelings. “I don’t trust her, that's all.”

“And yet… you trust me.” Hondo’s expression transformed into a wide, shit-eating grin as he turned his head to kiss the center of your palm. He took up your hand, then planted another across the back of it. 

“How very interesting,” he stated as his confidence returned.

To be fair, his confidence had not strayed very far, and Hondo was always one to bounce back quickly, no matter how awful the circumstances. Besides, this had been a rather small slight to his ego in comparison to anything else he could recall.

Still, he could not help but wonder about you, his grin broadening as you stepped closer, the devil playing submissive as you backed him in against the nearest wall.

“I am… sensing a pattern,” he said smugly, allowing you to dot the underside of his throat with a sprinkling of adoration; you slowly inched your way up and over his chin, offering your tongue once more. 

The pirate accepted, prompting you to moan softly against his warm and wiry lips. Your fingers grappled with his coat as he took to groping your right breast. His other hand drew you in by the small of your back, his brand of strength gentle, yet so very compelling; it caused you to practically melt against his robust frame. 

You wished this moment would never end, and perhaps it might have gone on for quite some time, had two giggling maids not rushed past you in the corridor. They attempted to shield their eyes the best they could to give you some semblance of privacy, though their incessant whispering accompanied them until they vanished around the corner.

You abruptly tore away, Hondo immediately adjusting his ensemble to remain at his most presentable. He swiped a thumb across where a tingling sensation lingered, then gave you another award-winning smile. “Et es… so hard tu find good help dese days, yes?”

“Hurry,” you persuaded him once more, towing him along in the direction you were desiring to go.

The pirate conceded, though he would not do so without giving you an earful of sound advice. “Ap-ap, my dear. As my sweet mum always used tu say, ‘rushing es a form of violence. Be quick, but du not hurry.’ Life es… so short, after all. At least, dat es what I keep hearing.”

“And I’m impatient,” you replied, having guided him to another wing of your absurdly large home only to pull him into a turbolift that would usher you to the third floor of your abode.

In the space of time it took for you to hear the chime, you kissed him three more times, your hands gliding over his stalwart form. From his taut abdominal muscles to the sharpness of his hips and down the meat of his thighs, you only paused to cup his groin; his cock was once more enlivened by a single touch of your playful fingers. 

“Are you sure you aren’t just a little eager?” you asked in a mellow, teasing tone of voice.

The scoundrel laughed huskily; a sound you could become addicted to, so melodious and dry, its intriguing vibrations once more causing shivers to trickle down the length of your spine. Everything about this man, despite his connection to your father, demanded that you make love to him until you passed out from exhaustion. 

And that was exactly what you planned to do. But first, business.

“You may be… ontu someting, yes?”

On that note, the lift opened to reveal another hall. You would have kissed him again, but you would wait to do so behind closed doors – there was a particular set that had long ago crossed your mind – and for more than one reason. While it made sense to take him directly to your bedroom, you had a few pit stops you wanted to make along the way.

Finally, you made one such stop, enticing the Weequay into your father’s favorite room of the house: his study and personal library.

Not sure that you had gone unnoticed upon entry, for the moment you did not care, Hondo gazing around the room and up toward the vaulted ceiling where there was a skylight that gave a clear view of the stars. 

Although not obvious from first glance, Oseon’s business and residential sectors were encased in a kind of bubble. The gravity, air, and flora of this planet were all of an artificial variety. Still, it was an impressive thing to be able to look straight up into an expanse of black with only the dim twinkling of faraway stellar objects to break up the monotony.

“Your family certainly spares no expense,” Hondo remarked, glancing toward the direction you had wandered off in. At this time, you were removing a most splendid work of art from off the wall, unveiling to Hondo and to yourself a safe deposit box built right into its surface. You had seen your father open it many times and had memorized the code, knowing that sealed inside were some of his most valuable and prized possessions. 

The contents were at once revealed; held within was an assortment of rubies and gemstones, diamonds, pearls, and more Life-crystal fragments, not to mention credits of the highest denomination, gold and silver – it was a veritable treasure chest! These items you gathered in handfuls, carrying them back to where Hondo stood curiously watching before you shoved both money and jewels straight into his pockets.

Hondo was dumbstruck, and maybe a tiny bit concerned, not used to someone so willingly parting with their wealth and for seemingly no good reason. He chuckled anxiously, then cleared his throat, addressing you as you walked back to get another round.

“What es de meaning of dis? Not dat I am… complaining, by any means,” he added as he dipped his fingers down into his coat. He withdrew a fistful of the riches you had so unceremoniously stuffed there without a word of explanation, admiring them, the way they sparkled; the heft of their weight in his hands; the price he knew he could get for them from the right buyer, though he did not let himself get carried away with his grandiose daydreams -– not yet. Hondo was sure he needed to keep his wits about him. This was all so very peculiar. 

“I’m paying you for your services,” you stated as you returned to shove more jewelry and credits into his boundless pockets, both in front and within the lining of his coat. He balked at that, placing a hand against his chest as the other still held a wad of pretty stones, giving you the most offended look that he could muster.

“Hondo es not a common whore! He cannot be bought with-” He paused, thinking over what he was about to say. It seemed he thought better of it as you began to smatter his throat with zealous kisses. 

“OK, yes, maybe I can, but dis es highly irregular. Not dat I would put a price on my head, dhough many, many others have already done dat.” He pondered on the past for a moment, remembering a singular wanted poster he had seen in passing with his face on it. It had read he was only worth seven thousand credits! Seven! That had been absolutely uncalled-for! Hondo was worth far, far more than that! 

Not to mention, the image of Cad Bane right next to his handsome mug read one million, which the pirate had found ridiculously outrageous! If anything, they were on par and deserved to be wanted - equally! 

You had ignored his ramblings as you began to work your way down his neck to the split of his tunic, ever so softly pressing your lips against his unique skin. Here you placed more kisses, one after the other, as he continued to talk. However, you did not mind, as his voice alone could make your heart flutter, so musical were the notes that rose up from his larynx. 

“But, as my mother always told me, son, du not look a gift fathier en de mouth,” he concluded, looking down into your eyes as if he had just realized you were still in the room. 

Then, Hondo noticed you were slowly getting farther and farther away as you sank toward the floor, the Weequay’s face tilting at an angle as he studied you from beneath his distressed goggles. The villainous grin he gave you only quickened your haste, your fingers diligently working at the same time your knees found carpet, unhooking his trousers to reveal the man had gone commando.

You involuntarily gasped at the sight, having felt it through the thin fabric of his pants, but not understanding the full potential of his anatomy until you saw it for yourself. 

The little sound you made had triggered the pirate; his grin only intensified. “Du not be frightened, little bird,-” he quipped, “-et does not bite.”

You hesitated a moment longer; it was stout, thick, and slightly above average, though it was ribbed in alternating patterns with the deepest grooves lining its base. You hummed a little sound of adulation before your tongue simply could not help itself; you clasped him by the hips with both hands as you prompted him forward. Using his assurance as an invitation, you painstakingly licked a stripe from the bottom of his shaft all the way to the head of his robust cock. 

The pirate shuddered, exhaling a haggard, broken breath of air. “Returning tu our previous topic of conversation, as far as mouths go-”

He had not finished his sentence before you encircled the tip of the Weequay’s foreign dick with your lips, lapping up the bit of pre-cum that had leaked from the slit at its head. Your mouth stayed cinched tightly around him as you ingested nearly the whole of his phallus, your cheeks hollowing out as you worked your way back up with a very deliberate, powerful suction.  

“Yours es-” He surrendered then, leaning back against your father’s ornate desk on the palm of his free hand, having hurriedly pushed his chair out of the way in the process. For someone who talked of not being in a rush, his haphazard movements had caused you to smirk, even with your mouth full. 

“Mmm,” you moaned, relishing the taste of him as well as the way his eyelids had begun to close as a most pleased expression had overtaken his handsome visage. You worked in a syncopated rhythm with your tongue, keeping him on his toes, but the up-down motion continued at a steady pace as you fluidly glided over each rib and ridge.

“-es quite…” It seemed as if he were still trying to carry on a conversation, one hand occupied by priceless loot while the other had decided to almost lovingly stroke your hair. This only encouraged you, the pucker of your mouth deepening as you slathered his dick with your spit. The Weequay finally dropped the jewels back into his pocket, gazing down at you once more as you unabashedly stared into slanted, lustrous grays. 

“Spectacular,” he finished, his other hand joining the first as he placed both on the back of your head with something tantamount to reverence. However you might describe it, it was gentle; he was not forcing you to go faster or deeper, his thumbs lightly caressing the base of your skull as he relaxed even more. 

It was also apparent he liked to watch, even as his eyelids continued to droop, Hondo finding himself lost in the sensation of your warm, inviting mouth working his cock as if he were a tasty treat that you could eat - one enjoyed in the heat of the summer on some sticky planet, or while on vacation in the tropics of Glee Anselm.

Now fully seated on the edge of your father’s work area, a particular thought sent a spark of joy into your heart - if only he knew whose cock you were sucking in his study. The look on his face would be absolutely priceless, worth more than all those jewels you had lined the pirate’s pockets with. 

Of course, should he really find out, his reaction would be extremely unfavorable. It was obvious this was happening entirely on purpose; you would not be able to come up with an excuse strong enough to save your life. You doubted your father would actually kill you, even in the throes of an anger so volatile he might tear the scoundrel limb from limb. Being his own flesh and blood had its benefits, but you would never allow any harm to come to this man, not while you were still alive.

This thought process increased your excitability, taking the time to  sit up slightly on your knees so as to get a better vantage. You paused in your veneration to allow his cock to slide out of your mouth; you kissed it tenderly before your tongue flicked teasingly across its bulbous tip, taking the time to situate yourself into a more comfortable position. 

The pirate had opened one eye, his breath slow and steady before it picked up again at the flutter of your tongue against the sensitive head of his cock. Hondo himself shivered, though his movements were exaggerated, the Weequay’s hand relocating itself suddenly as it came back around to snatch you by the chin. 

You stifled a gasp, though his gaze was so sharp and intense that you reflexively whimpered, his voice low and licentious as he stared penetratingly into your eyes. 

“Tell old Hondo what game you are playing, child.”  He had murmured his demand against your lips, the pirate having hunched over near to your level. You were unable to form coherent speech, so he pressed his mouth against yours that had been left immobile. It was an act of fiery passion that before this moment you felt nothing could quite match, the gruffness of his tone having caught you off guard. It had somewhat frightened you, to tell the truth, but the feeling was quickly offset by your bolstered arousal, as if you could possibly become any more turned on. 

Though he was considerably your senior, you were not a youngling, yet you took no offense, even as he was trying to demean you in some way. It was likely he still did not trust you, and you had not bothered to explain yourself or your bizarre gifts - you really could not blame him.

You forewent any elucidation and instead gathered up his girth in your hand as your fingers cinched carefully around it. You gave it a long lick in one fell swoop before intaking it back into the whole of your mouth and toward the far end of your throat. Then, you gently gathered his testes in the curve of your other hand, a warm palm massaging them with calculated enthusiasm.

Your head bobbed to-and-fro, alternating once more between up and down as you whined against Hondo’s cock, cognizant of the fact you may never get another chance at this. An almost imperceptible tremble vibrated through the Weequay’s core, it being exhibited by way of a quiver in his knees, the pirate digging his nails into your hair as those fingers still locked around your chin stayed stationary, though his thumb had begun to rub a pattern along your jawline.

“I… believe you tu be incorrect,” he stated arbitrarily, though it spurred your curiosity. “You are de one… who es…  servicing me,” he informed you between ragged breaths, Hondo feeling that he was near to peaking under your expert control.

“Mn, little bird, sing for me,” he pleaded in a voice softer and more melodic than before. “Et begs de question,” he whispered, that same thumb continuing to stroke your cheek as he rocked his hips forward in time with your head’s momentum. “Tell Hondo what he has done tu deserve all dis.”

You were thoroughly enjoying yourself, nuzzling into the rogue’s affections as you made lewd slurping sounds, engorging yourself on the blissful experience of making Hondo Ohnaka squirm and fidget amidst your charms. You could tell he was close; you wondered what the cum of a Weequay tasted like, but you would not find out, as at that moment the door to your father’s study slid open to reveal one of your personal attendants, a young woman who stood with her mouth gaping open as she took in the scandalous scene.

Yet, she was one whom you had bonded with, being so bored cooped up in this house. She was about your age, and you trusted her well enough, having often confided in her your secrets and relaying to her the latest gossip from about town. 

Still, it caused you to halt, jerking your head back for Hondo’s erection to vacate your throat. You wiped a drizzle of spit off on the back of your hand as you stared at her, wide-eyed. 

She stared wide-eyed back as Hondo blinked indolently, coming out of a stupor that had temporarily disarmed him, so sluggish and slow was he to recover from this impromptu visit that for a moment his genitalia remained outside his trousers before you hastily thought to aid him in putting it away.

You stood as Hondo finished the job, not having said a word for once, the woman creeping forward one or two steps inside. The door closed behind her; she seemed disturbed, but also worried, finally speaking to you after she had overcome her visible shock. 

“Miss! The Madam’s on the way! She’s bringing Jaina with her, and those little sandwiches!” she stated in a rush, her eyes darting to Hondo as he had finally risen to his full height, the Weequay looking out of sorts as he brushed off each sleeve of his coat in turn before joining you at your side.

“Thank you, Mara! Comm me should you see anything else!” you said, dashing behind you as the girl took a small curtsy and left just as quickly as she had arrived. Shouting at the handsome scoundrel who looked somewhat confused, yet also intrigued by the idea of sandwiches, you demanded he play along: “Quick! Pretend to look at books!”

“Pardon?” Hondo asked, nonplussed, the baffled expression intensifying as he turned to watch you dart back toward the open safe nestled in the wall.

“Pretend to look at books!” you repeated, referencing your father’s library that lined the walls with expensive and rare items printed on traditional paper.

“I would prefer tu try one of dese sandwiches dat was mentioned, or-” he paused for effect, strolling toward a bookcase regardless as he removed a volume from off the shelf. One wiry finger traced a path down its gilded spine. “-I could always go for something a little more… gourmet.” 

He smiled again, having recovered rather quickly, his mood once more bright and cheerful even though he had been denied a finish to what you had started. “Aldhough, finger food also has ets place.” 

You gave him a quick look, knowing exactly what he was referring to, though you were too enwrapped in your current task to be amused. Closing the safe deposit box, you reset the lock, quickly collecting the painting from where it lay against the wall to replace at just the proper angle. You stepped back to admire your work for a split second before scurrying across the room to join the rascal, taking up residence by his side. 

Hondo had just cracked the volume open, doing as you had instructed, feigning interest in what was written on its pages. You quickly made some shit up in your head just as the door opened, speaking to the pirate as if you had long been settled into conversation.

“You are correct, this particular book does date back to the time of the Old Republic,” you began as the white-haired Arthurian stepped into the room along with her accomplice, a woman of lesser status who carried with her a plate full of those tiny sandwiches Mara had decided to warn you about. “As you can see, they still practiced top edge gilt, which the edges of the pages are finished in real gold along the top of the text block-”

You cut yourself off, pretending to be surprised, as Hondo himself seemed genuinely to be so. There was more to you than met the eye, your expertise on such an obscure detail catching his attention as you rounded on the woman by the name of Hilre who was once again sticking her nose in your business where you felt it did not belong.

“Madam Hilre,” you said curtly, removing the book from Hondo’s hands as you closed it and returned it to its proper place. Hondo easily allowed this, taking the opportunity to utilize his infamous charisma. 

“Ah, we meet again, my good woman. And what es dis you have brought us?” He traipsed forward, plucking one of the perfectly cut sandwiches from off the plate held by Jaina, at once taking a bite and savoring its flavor. Hondo was legitimately hungry, after all. He had not had a scrap to eat since arriving at this rocky little asteroid. 

“Shawda Clubb!” he exclaimed as you came forward, looking directly at the Arthurian who, as was her custom, had averted her eyes.  “Et es truly delightful. De best I have ever tasted,” he emphasized, though you were unsure if he was telling the truth.

“Thank you, Hilre, but we do not require your services,” you said tersely, walking past her and around, “Mr. Orenk, allow me to show you the garden,” you lied, knowing very well what your next destination would be. 

“Certainly,” Hondo acquiesced, though he held out both hands to Jaina who still carried the full tray within hers. “May I?”

To your surprise he took the entire plate, leaving your servant dumbfounded as she stood there with an odd expression, dropping her hands down to her sides. She did not comment, knowing it was not her place, but looked to Madam Hilre for guidance, which she was quick to turn and watch as you made to take your leave.

“Shall I prepare a place for Mr. Orenk for the evening? If he is waiting on your father, and since he is delayed, he is to spend the night, yes?” she asked with a hint of suspicion in her voice.

Hondo paused mid-bite and looked at you. He shrugged his shoulders minutely before fitting the rest of the sandwich into his mouth. “Yes, of course,” you agreed before hurrying out and back into the corridor with the Weequay thankfully in tow. 

“Dese are quite delicious, you should try dem,” he said with a mouthful of food as you made your way back toward the turbolift at the end of the hall. 

“Tu de garden, den?” he asked, licking the edges of two fingers to clean the taste of the Manpha-fowl and nuna bacon off their tips. This tiny set of movements enthralled you, so set on the image of his tongue and what it might feel like down below that you erratically searched out the button to the second floor without so much as a glance in the direction of the control panel.

“No,” you breathily exhaled, stepping forward to remove the plate from his hands just as he took up another sandwich. Hondo decided three was enough, allowing you to withdraw the tray without protest, nibbling on the end as you salaciously whispered, “now for the main course.”

The pirate’s expression morphed into an impish grin as you were now back on the same page. 

“Well, et es about time.” He quickly finished his snack within the next two bites just as the door to the lift sprung open to reveal yet another hall. You placed the half-empty tray down on a nearby side table, picking up two other items: a set of solid gold candleholders. They were antiques, and worth a small fortune; you emptied them and then stuffed them inside yet another of Hondo’s many pockets.

“Ah?” he asked quite simply, though you were already dragging him down and to the left. 

You were feeling frisky, and perhaps a bit more headstrong than before, wanting to defile and defy the stolen riches around you as well as your family name. To cavort with pirates, and your father’s long held enemy at that - even if the notorious scoundrel was none the wiser - had you riddled with excitable, anxious energy. Not only that, you were dying to take this man to bed, but not just any bed - the best, most luxurious bed in all your home – the one belonging to your parents.

You paused your trek, Hondo nearly bumping into you as you listened for complete silence, though he had made a sound of mild reproach. “Are we playing hide and seek?” he asked with a questioning lilt to his voice.

“Shhh,” you encouraged him - despite the scoff he gave - to be quiet for just one moment. You were sure your mother was in the lounge downstairs, sipping her expensive wine and watching holodramas for lack of anything better to do. Although it was getting late, she was known for staying up all hours, and she often slept on the sofa in her clothes. 

Once sure there was no one else about, you took him to the suite at the end of the hall, shoving open one of the massive doors to reveal a room so large it may as well be an apartment in and of itself that rented for four thousand credits a month on Coruscant. 

“Well, well, well!” Hondo marched past you and toward the middle of the space, forgetting immediately that he had been lightly scolded. It gave you enough time to turn over a family holo-photo that was being projected on a table by the door. “Dis bed es big enough tu fit three of me, ah?”

“One will do,” you were quick to retort, gently pushing him forward with both hands, your palms flat against the lower part of his back. 

The man humored you, allowing himself to be ferried. “Yes, et es a fact you could not handle more dan one of me,” he quipped. “Dere es no shame en dat, my dear.”

He turned on you quite suddenly, a devious look that was new-to-you plastered across his angular face. It was safe to say he had caught on to why you were here, the corners of his eyes crinkling alongside the upward curve of his toothy grin. 

“After yo—” His face fell, as you had already begun to walk away in the opposite direction, Hondo having been prepared to usher you where you rightfully belonged – atop sateen sheets and plush pillows. However, you had other plans, only meaning to delay your coupling a moment longer by way of marching straight toward  another door.

It parted to reveal a walk-in closet of ginormous proportions, Hondo peeking his head in behind you as you stepped forward, the Weequay’s lips forming a solid “o” shape unbeknownst to you just behind your shoulder. 

“Your boudoir has a… boudoir?” he asked cheekily, noting the posh clothing and accessories that were housed within. Handbags lined one wall, and hats another. There was shelving for shoes of all kinds, including those typically for men. Hondo quirked his head, not guessing you would be one to want to adorn a three-piece suit, though many hung carefully ironed and arranged on hooks. 

“Ah, we lead a double life, du we?” The pirate sauntered forward, fingering the length of one of your father’s designer coats as you became busy opening various drawers and miniature cabinetry; these stylized boxes were designed to hold rings, necklaces, and things like solid gold cufflinks, or platinum tie clips – a plethora of exquisite items resided here – things that were never worn or used after their initial purchase. It was all for show, and a waste of money. You were determined to make a dent in your parent’s horde.

“It’s my father’s,” you offered with a laugh, collecting all manner of jewelry and trinkets that were pocket-sized. 

“I must say, his tailor es a being of unmatched skill,” the scoundrel admitted, rather admiring the pattern sewn into the rich emerald fabric he was fawning over. You distracted him by sidling up to his hip, hands burdened with more treasure being unloaded into any empty nook or cranny you could find upon his person. 

Hondo stopped to stare, encapsulating your wrist with a mild pinch of his fingers. Your eyes traveled upward progressively, coming to rest on his, so beautiful and expressive, yet now they were narrowed in apprehension as was the theme for this evening. 

“And would he… approve of dis?” the Weequay asked, his voice taking on a dour quality.

You shared eye contact for a few more seconds, thinking of how you ought to kiss him again, right then and there, the far off look in your gaze being replaced by a vampish smile. 

“No,” you responded plainly, sealing your answer with a frivolous giggle, marching past the knave to exit back into the main chamber of your parent’s suite.

Hondo’s own smile returned, spreading across his corrugated face like the rising of a sun at first light. He briskly followed you, commenting on your behavior. “Now I tink I am beginning tu… understand.”

You would not allow him to finish that thought, turning for your skirt to swirl around your legs as you clasped his hand, dragging Hondo toward the monstrous bed that lay positioned against the adjacent wall. It was the main feature of this elegant space, and it hardly saw any use as far as you were aware. With your mother always passing out on her chaise lounge, and your father being absent more often than not, you were sure this was the first time it would see any action since the dawn of the current decade. 

“Time to finish what I started,” you bawdily suggested. 

“Ap-ap-ap,” the pirate interjected, interrupting your plans when he drew you in, forcing you to spin on your heel to face him. “Now et es my turn, darling.” 

He released your hand, then pushed you gently, barely exerting any force. You took a tumble right onto the bed behind you; you laughed gayly, stretching your arms out toward the pirate, suddenly overcome by a rather playful mood. “Come to me,” you whispered. 

He took one step forward, and you scuttled one inch back, Hondo smirking as he drew ever closer. “Et es not I who will be coming,” he teased, “not yet, anyway,” he offered in a dry and passive tone. 

You watched in awe as he crawled atop you, the Weequay repositioning his coat so its tails would not get in his way. How had you lucked out so well? You remained captivated as he slowly worked his way down, the delicious weight of his body pressing into yours as he took the time to run his lanky fingers along the curve of your jaw. 

“A work of art,” he complimented, causing your cheeks to burn. 

“Flatterer,” you shushed him, a hand lifting for your forefinger to skim vertically down the Weequay’s textured lips. The man took up your hand and placed a tender kiss against the back of it, coolly maneuvering your wrist to a place just above your head. 

Hondo would hold you to this spot, fingers intertwined amongst yours, only gradually releasing you the farther and farther he journeyed down the span of your shapely form. Ah, but he knew you would not stray; you would not stop what was about to happen, for you had gone to such great lengths to readily seduce him. 

“But I am telling de truth. Should I hold my tongue?” he asked mischievously, expecting he already knew the answer to that question. “Or, would you prefer dat I use et?” he added, the undersides of his banded fingers taking to caressing the pliable meat of your thigh. 

His gilded teeth met with the fabric of your dress; Hondo hiked your skirt up, rising to gently reposition it by way of his mouth. A little shiver rode up your arms as you watched this intimate act, your anticipation only heightening every second that ticked by.

You bit your lip, chewing absentmindedly as you had become enthralled with every minute movement the pirate made, his current set being for long, lithe fingers to gingerly tug at the corners of your panties. 

“May I?” he inquired, asking for your permission. He was such a gentleman, you thought. 

“You needn’t ask,” you offered, words muted, heart thumping beneath a cage of bone as you witnessed the beginnings of the removal of your undergarments.

“As. I. suspected,” Hondo joked, kissing the upper portion of your leg. He would discard your underwear with a theatrical toss, the scent of your arousal engulfing his senses. 

Hondo was overtaken by an immediate desire to make you beg. 

Oh, he would bring you to the brink, to the edge of sanity; you would never forget his name – not that you could – remaining unparalleled and unrivaled to any subsequent lovers of yours for as long as you continued to live. 

Hondo would get comfortable, splaying his legs behind himself, lying flat on his belly with a sea of brocade and crimson waving out to either flank. Then, the ne'er-do-well briefly slipped his palms beneath your buttocks as he dragged you forward, hands sliding up each curve so that two wide thumbs could press back the lips of your labia toward the narrow, inguinal groove that connected abdomen to hip; he spread you open as you watched.

You practically moaned before he ever touched you, observing the thick, broad, black muscle that unfurled from the depths of his wicked mouth to taste you. A crafty tongue traversed the breadth of your vulva, artfully slow; it meticulously lapped a line to the cusp of your clit, the foppish freebooter kicking his feet as he felt the squirm of your stomach; the tightening of tendons and sinews, all a form of nonverbal encouragement and he had barely begun.

“Hondo,” you purred deliciously; your sweet adulation of his name was almost as tasty, this single mention spurring him to enliven his pace, but not by much. He was exacting when it came to this, doling out pleasure on his terms, his flannelmouth good for more than just weaving tall tales or boasting of his misadventures. 

“Yes, love?” he asked between masterful strokes, stopping to suck the pulsing pearl that craved attention, thighs quaking as your belly lurched, so close already. 

The villain paused, lifting his head, helmet rising first as beady, silver eyes zeroed in on your face contorted in the near midst of passion. He grinned fiendishly as you whimpered a complaint, ragged breaths exuded from lungs which expanded and contracted in rapid pants. 

“Don’t stop,” you implored him for the second time this evening, falling back to rest your head on your parent’s garish coverlet. Your fingers dug into the lavish, designer pattern as you twisted fine threads into stringent clusters inside your bunching fists. You languorously hiked a knee, letting it fall to one side as you stretched yourself wider, one hand unwinding to reach outward so that you could cup your lover’s cheek, slithering betwixt thorn-like frills to caress striated, tawny skin. 

“Iiii… du not tink I heard a ‘please,’” Hondo chided, feigning to be disappointed by your manners, or lack therefore, though he was already so fond of teasing you; you writhed exceptionally well, and the soft, well-placed caress of your hand alongside his face was a nice touch, to say the least.

“Please, Hondo, please,” you urged, hips grinding subtly into the sheets below as your body ached for more. 

The scamp simpered; he laughed a wry, cold laugh, Hondo taking the time to pluck two of his many golden rings off his long, spindly forefinger; they arrived in his pocket, beside all the other treasures stored there. He recalibrated his attention, once more dipping down below.

“Like music tu my ears,” he praised, voice dangerously low; words brazen. He tested you by carefully interring his ringless finger into the wet recess of your cunt, his tongue returning to its prior engagement before he had so shamelessly baited you to plead your case. 

A delicate flick across your clit paired with a succinct, patient gliding back and forth against the seat of your pleasure caused your limbs to insensibly convulse without your say; the tip would coil, applying a scant amount of pressure toward that special place, your belly gasping as you released the scoundrel from your grip to claw at bits of pillowy satin. 

“Yes, yes—” you uttered, voice restrained as you attempted to assuage yourself from making too much noise. You turned your head so that you might bury your face in bedding, Hondo once more lifting up to scold you.

“Ut-ut-ut! I want tu hear you, sweetheart,” the man boldly informed you, having so rudely taken his tongue away so that he could talk. You pouted like a spoiled youngling, ready to throw a fit if the Weequay would not let you cum, once more begging him to finish.

“Oh, please, Hondo— keep going,” you beseeched him in a most convincingly humble tone. 

“Hmn…” the bastard uttered, rather enjoying himself by denying you your finish. “I suppose et es de least I can du, no? For all de trouble you went tu, bringing me here and filling my pockets with such handsome, valuable treasures.”

“Yes, exactly,” you agreed, though to your dismay Hondo briefly disengaged. You almost cried out for him, though he did not stray too far, only readjusting.

“Aww, my sweet…You are breaking dis old pirate’s heart,” he proclaimed, though you were not any more reassured. “Let me not keep you waiting a moment longer,” he taunted playfully, his deft thumb placing itself atop your clit to swirl so, so slowly; so, so softly. 

Hondo massaged you with diligence even so, craning his neck to instead lap at your already slick sex, inserting the point of a lengthy onyx tongue between your velvet lips. He kissed you below the belt as if he were kissing another mouth; he was eager, industrious, and terribly unhurried, but it was his snail’s pace that pushed you to the verge, your imagination running wild as you had chosen to stare at the vaulted ceiling of your parent’s bedroom.

You could feel every aspect, every swipe, every inch of that roiling, dancing organ that made-out with your cunt as it probed and caressed you, your stomach jerking in that same telltale manner as he brought you to the brink.

You spoke his name, this time louder, not knowing who might be listening in, or even caring. Hondo did not bother to increase his speed; he kept things steady and on an even course; it almost drove you mad, the sound of your own blood rushing through your ears nearly drowning out the sound of your mother’s piercing shriek. 

She called out to you, shocked and appalled by what she was witnessing, a bottle of some expensive, imported wine clutched firmly in her hand. You had been midway through an orgasm, so unbelievably caught off guard that your brain and body were no longer communicating. 

Hondo marginally cocked his head, tongue retracting back into his mouth as he hovered above you, legs lowering to be eased back behind himself; he had taken to lightly treading air in his excitement, turning to face you as even he - for a moment - was unsure of how to behave toward this bleating woman.

“A friend of yours?” he questioned.

“Mother!” you screeched, pushing your skirt back down; Hondo made a sound that began as a thing undignified, but it quickly worsened as it turned toward a choke; you had labeled this onlooker to be none other than the matriarch of your rich family.

“What a surprise! Won’t you join—er—” 

You pushed the pirate back, up and off you; at any other time, he would have been incensed, though he merely crawled onto his knees before he was able to stand and rid himself of any dust that may have collected - stereotypically - on his shoulder.

Hondo did not take into account the… sizable erection he bore, clearly visible by the raised fabric of his trousers. Clearing his throat, Hondo adjusted his coat to partially hide his heightened state of arousal; he did not necessarily mind being caught. 

However, he also did not quite see the point, as he had just been discovered eating out this woman’s daughter, and in her own bed, no less. What did it matter if his cock was as hard as boa-wood? 

Hondo glanced at you as you hastily tried to mask your shame, having tossed the so-far-unused comforter over yourself, though you had since rearranged your dress. 

“Before you say anything—” you interposed, your parental unit having opened her mouth to hopefully do something besides scream. You stood to your feet, then brushed out the wrinkles in your clothes, “—this is Hondo Ohnaka.” You made sure to enunciate that last part.

The woman’s face fell; she strode forward. She circled about the man, taking him in as if he were a circus performer, or some kind of specimen to be studied in a science lab. Her steps were jaunty; she had all the confidence of royalty, however sloshed. Hondo trailed her with his eyes, ready to speak when she burst out laughing. 

“Madam, I fail tu see what es so funny.” 

Your mother pressed a finger to Ohnaka’s lips; she continued her observation as Hondo knit his brow, his beautiful eyes narrowing into deadly slits. He looked to you again as you stood, flinging his disheveled braids out over his back with an agitated cast of his head; he was not amused, impatient for you to explain yourself and why you had kept him a secret from your housemaid but not from your own flesh and blood.

“The pirate?!” she finally asked, throwing her neck back to cackle toward the cathedral ceiling, following it with another large swig of red wine. 

“Ah, so you have heard of me as well,” Hondo beamed, mood predictably changing. Your mother stared at him as if he was a figment of her mind, recalling all the instances that her husband had nearly blown a blood vessel thanks to this intriguing character. 

She laughed again, a dry, derisive sound, swirling to face you, bottle in tow. 

“Mother, I—” She grasped you by the strap of your dress, pulling you close to her face; she smelled strongly of alcohol and expensive perfume; it was a fragrance she preferred that was harvested from Nlorna flowers. 

“Anywhere but here,” she whispered, then adding, “Hilre’s lurking about the house.” 

With that she released you, sashaying her hips as she left you there with another dry, sharp laugh; you fought to calm your pounding heart, once again turning to face your befuddled lover. It was clear Hondo did not appreciate your mother’s continued mockery; he had put on another sour face. You wondered if the jig was finally up, though you would still endeavor to try your luck. 

“This way—” you entreated, taking his hand as you prompted him to follow you back out into the hall. 

“—No!” he protested, his voice heavily punctuated by his charming Sriluurian accent. “Youuuu have kept Hondo en de dark long enough! What sort of place es dis, and what sort of person are you?” he demanded, words saturated in a smooth, dark baritone.  

You forced yourself not to smile, knowing he was genuinely perturbed, though you found it absolutely delightful that you should be able to get this far in your ruse - however innocent - when Hondo was known far and wide for his wily tricks. 

“I’ll tell you as we walk,” you promised, holding out your hand. Ohnaka scanned it unfavorably with his eyes before skirting it altogether, walking past you and out into the spacious corridor. 

You at once caught up, keeping pace as you guided him back toward the lift. “That man you told me the story about, the one that you used to steal weapons from during the Clone Wars-” you began, pressing the button that would soon open the elevator’s Clari-crystalline doors.

“-Annnnd what of him?” Hondo asked snootily, cutting you off. He looked down his broad, button nose at you. You came to terms with the fact you wished to kiss it though putting the idea on the back burner for now.

“He’s—” You both stepped inside, Hondo wasting no time in finding a place to stand. He folded his arms as you picked whatever crazy spot you were taking him to now, it being the top, the fifth and final floor of your obscenely lavish-even-for-a-pirate’s home. 

You turned to meet his gaze; it was obvious he was now very skeptical of you. “All my days—” you paused, trying to work out just where to begin, “—I grew up hearing stories about you. My father was never present in my life; I grew up to resent him, and his work,” you confessed, gliding forward to take his hand in yours once more.

“Dis does not surprise me,” Hondo vaunted, though you would not let his inflated ego detract from what you meant to relay.

“This house, this money, these clothes I wear, that jewelry in your pocket – it’s blood money. Money earned from weapons sold that causes death and heartbreak on untold planets, from the Core Worlds to the Mid Rim, and perhaps even beyond,” you elucidated, Hondo listening with rapt attention to your story.

The chime for the turbolift dinged, signaling the arrival to your destination; your room was just down the hall; the entire level was yours.

“Yes, yes, go on,” Hondo prompted, having found himself curious in what you were about to say. You had not let go of his hand, ushering him to your private quarters without any more delay. 

“Even as a child it never sat well with me. I heard things, saw things. Things that disgusted me and made me ashamed, yet here I sit in the lap of luxury with nothing to show for it. But you—” You pulled Hondo forward and through your exceptionally tall doorway, kicking it closed behind you with the toe of your shoe. “You single-handedly thwarted his plans; you seized his product; you made his life a living nightmare, and for that I thank you.”

“Well, Iiii don’t know ef you would call et single-handedly—” Hondo began, but you had kissed him; the former leader of the Ohnaka gang only wished to give credit where credit was due. He supposed it could wait, his hands finding the dip in your waist to pull you close so that he might indulge you.

After a moment, he slipped back to look you in the eye, the cheekiest, most fiendish grin you had ever seen affixed to his smug mug. “So, one might say dat you have ‘daddy issues’—" his voice dropped nearly two octaves, thick like molasses, and noticeably subdued, “I should have known...”

“Your name was a constant in my household,” you breathed out. “I laughed when he cursed you; I wanted to know what it was like to be a pirate; I wanted to know you, see you. I wanted to run away and never look back, I had meant to escape this life, I—”  

Hondo had taken your chin in the flexure of his palm, his thumb almost absentmindedly trailing across your bottom lip in a bittersweet caress. “—And now… daddy’s little girl es all grown up,” he concluded, it being easy for him to ascertain where all of this was going. 

“Fuck me,” you pleaded earnestly and without warning, your tongue darting out to lick and suck Hondo’s thumb with somewhat sobering enthusiasm - not that Hondo was at all inebriated from those two glasses of Toniray back at the bar. He was just… surprised for the second time this evening; never in his wildest imaginings could he have predicted the way this night would fare.

“Sweet one, are you sure?” he asked in a peculiar tone, questioning your urgency. “We have been making a habit of being interrupted, et seems. Are you positive no one else es going tu come bursting en tu ruin our fun? Your… father, perhaps?” Hondo added seemingly as an afterthought, though it had been the most pertinent thing to ask. 

“He won’t be home for two whole days,” you whispered, still indefatigably kissing and sucking his thumb. 

“Den old Hondo will bestow upon you your greatest wish, dear child – me,” he ceded, walking you back the few steps it took him to lay you down. 

When the backs of your knees hit the bed, your legs folded; you sat down swiftly, tugging on the pirate’s blood-red coat. He hastily rid himself of it – albeit with the sound of loose jewels and credits clinking against metal - you doing the same with your dress. 

Your underwear was nowhere to be found, having left it on the floor of your parent’s suite. Hastily, you unfastened your brassiere, discarding it off to the side as Hondo kicked his boots off and bent down low over your retreating form. 

“Perhaps you would care tu undress me?” he inquired, tone sultry and seductive as he pierced you with look that caused your loins to tingle. 

“Please,” you requested, immediately going for his helmet. His eyes lifted as he watched your fingers stretch out toward his face, then vanish somewhere up above. You displaced it, setting it on the bed, Hondo’s bare head apart from his long braids now visible to the naked eye. 

He grinned again, a devilish stretch of his wide mouth as he flashed dual rows of aureate and pearl; you lifted his goggles up and over his forehead by their straps, for once able to see those sloped, ash-gray irises up close. 

You gasped mildly in shock; you were beguiled; his ears were pointed at their tips. You dropped his eyewear beside his helmet so that you could gingerly run your fingers along his strikingly handsome, reptilianesque face.

He bore a scar, its pigment lighter than the rest of his leathery skin, over one eye. His countenance was stark and skeletal, eyes sunken to protect them from harsh desert winds, though there were none of those on Oseon. You found you could not stop yourself from kissing him again, fondling and caressing his armored flesh; the tapered shape of his elvish ears. 

Hondo had to admit that this was somewhat unexpected. He had assumed you had other ideas when it came to the removal of his clothes, but you had gone for those accessories that prevented you from being able to delve into those windows of the soul. His swoop-pilot goggles were just as much for safety as they were for forestalling others from probing too deeply; Hondo always played his cards close to the vest. 

He gazed at you as if seeing you for the first time, and perhaps there was some truth to this, the Weequay’s chin lowering as he studied your pretty face in the dim light of your bedroom. 

You were more beautiful than he had previously thought, and the way you were drinking him in with your thirsty eyes was distracting and disarming. It was as if he was water itself, and you were so very, very parched. 

It was either that, or he now felt vulnerable, having nothing to hide behind; nothing to shield him from your scrutiny. 

“I take et you… like what you see,” Hondo said sonorously, yet there was a lacquer of uncertainty in his tone. 

Did you like it? Were you disappointed?

As if addressing his implicit fears, you pulled him down on top of you. “More than anything,” you whispered, excitable hands ripping at his tunic. Hondo subsequently assisted you, removing his arms from their long sleeves. As he did the rest, you redirected your energy toward the belt buckle that bore the symbol of a life since past; his Ohnaka gang was no more, but they were nothing without the man himself to lead them.

“Dat es what I like tu hear…” 

He had a moment when you were unzipping his pants that he thought about your reasons for wanting him, the daughter of a weapon’s dealer scorned. Oh, how you must have despised your father, and your mother was a piece of work herself. Many times he had been as wasted as he had seen that woman; more so, yet— had she also been a lush when you were still in diapers? Had you always found yourself to be neglected? He knew something of that.

Perhaps this was to be your revenge; Hondo knew something of that too, yet he did not once feel used. And even if you were using him, far be it from him to complain. 

Still, he saw genuine affection in your eyes, or was it awe? He could not blame you for desiring to copulate with him; you were not the first person to take him for a ride, but perhaps this was the first time it almost seemed funny. Funny, but endearing, nonetheless.

You had placed him on a pedestal without his knowing anything about you; he was some sort of heroic figure, or a person to look up to; a role model, though a poor one. He almost wondered if he should be doing this – almost. 

Then, your warm hand was on his prick; it brought him out of his quiet meditation, a thing Hondo rarely was - quiet. The pirate pushed his trousers down off his knees and toward his ankles, kicking each pant leg loose, one by one, so that you might bask in his full-blown nakedness. 

“Uhh- how old ded you say you are?” he suddenly asked, his voice holding within a modicum of trepidation; he did not take the time to do the math himself.

You laughed brightly. “Old enough,” you replied.

That was good enough for him, though he was significantly your elder. If it did not matter to you, it did not matter to him. He had no more reason to think about it, your tender lips meeting with his. 

You were overtaken by desire, lifting your legs to wrap them properly around his torso. You guided him in, your free arm hooking around his neck for your human hand to clasp the back of his head as you aimed to kiss him hard and deep.

Hondo moaned against your mouth, helping to ferry himself forward; you took that part of him that was ribbed and ridged in your palm, angling your hips so that you could begin to slide it within yourself. 

The man inhaled sharply through his nostrils as you inched your way down, down along his shaft until his cock was buried fully inside you. Your plush inner walls gave it a loving squeeze, Kegel muscles tightening insofar that Hondo’s whole body went rigid, the Weequay pulling away from your greedy lips. 

“Mmn -- keep doing dat, and I won’t last long,” he forewarned, but you were already using your legs around him as leverage to glide back and forth across his girth – and girthy it was.

Each raised line, each groove of his phallus felt wonderful inside you. It was alien, unlike anything you had ever felt before, already close to satisfying every itch nothing else could seem to scratch.

You let out an uneven exhalation, gripping the man by the shoulders. Your eyelids fluttered as you whimpered a dulcet sound in his goblin ear, coming already from only a few strokes of him inside you.

Hondo tilted his head, having not even begun to fuck you. He thought you to be exquisite, your face twisting in pleasure without him so much as having to pump his hips. 

“Wait for Hondo, no?” he teased.

You laughed shakily, though it was almost forced, still coming off your high. Finally, you opened your eyes fully to look at him; he was too perfect. Your heart ached, knowing that beyond your short time together lay uncertainty, and that you might never see him again after tonight. It was a thought you nearly could not bear.

Your eyes welled with tears; your emotions were short-circuiting. Hondo pulled back, momentarily concerned. “Darling, what es wrong? Have I done someting?” he asked. 

“You’re not kissing me enough,” you lied, though sounding needy.  He stared at you long and hard before bending at his waist to dip low and press his mouth to yours. You hungrily accepted it, cinching your legs around his flanks to push him deeper still.

Hondo lightly gasped before it morphed into a moan of gratitude for your healthy appetite. He was also feeling something, respecting your tenacity while also marveling at the copious amounts of attraction you felt for him. 

Why, it bordered infatuation, a thing that might be considered dangerous under the right, or wrong circumstances. Still, that did not dissuade him. His ego was being fed, and fed well.

And yet, he was beginning to like you. Perhaps it was all the gifts and gold you had bestowed upon him, the fact you were not just some ignorant, rich heiress, or the fact you were rebelling in the only way you knew how – by having promiscuous sex with your father’s hated enemy. In another life, maybe he would have had you join him on his quest to rob the galaxy, yet now he was nothing more than a washed-up pirate captain without a crew.

You exalted him, and he felt somewhat humbled by it. It was a foreign feeling, like that of being satisfied. While definitely not new, per se, it was different. It was not exhilarating in the same way he had once presided over droves of men to do his bidding. No, this was like drugs, like the most potent strain of spice, or the drowsy, stupefying effects of the nastiest narcotic. For a moment, he felt lost in the sweet heat of your debauched embrace. 

But Hondo would feel the damp trickle of your tears; people did many unusual things in the throes of passion, such as claiming love when there was no such thing to be found upon its finish. Still, he wondered, the underside of his thumb daring to brush those pesky drops away as his tongue remained ensconced in your tepid mouth. 

So moved by the gesture, you could have cried ten times over, however humiliating, pulling away to exact your grip with the muscles of your thighs to a more readied position. Your kisses came quick, feverish, incrementally deeper, faster, as if you were a woman starved for months on end who was only now allowed to partake of the most forbidden fruit. 

“Sweetheart,” Hondo lightly berated, “you have me,” he posited. “Du not rush et, hm?”

He had coerced you to slow, to follow his pace, your ardency unbidden and almost uncontrollable. You could only nod, arching your hips to settle at a more favorable angle, each languid caress of him inside you causing your toes to curl. The wet squelch of his cock thrusting into your cunt was reminiscent of the finest music, igniting your senses as if your whole body would soon burst into flames.

The dastardly being captured a pillow for his use, propping you up so that you might relax. Hondo dragged you forward until your body was folding on itself, your sex snugly bound to his groin as your back remained level on the sheets.  

Powerful thighs propelled him forward as gentle hands groped yours, sliding up the smooth flesh of your legs to come to rest at the cusps of your hips. Sinewy fingers bit down, snaking around to grasp the meat of your ass as Hondo pressed his cock to the head of your cervix, careful not to push too far or to cause you pain. 

“Harder,” you dared. “Deeper.”

He did not ridicule you for this; he looked up with those heavenly sky-gray eyes. One hand crawled to the curve of your middle back as he clasped you tightly, ramming you repeatedly with the alien shape of his thick, ribbed shaft. 

All you could do was lie there, mouth parted to exude nothing but startled silence, pain mixed with pleasure rocking you to the very fiber of your nerve endings. Hondo would grunt generously with every precise stroke of himself inside you as your body twisted in ecstasy; he was unable to help himself as he cupped the roundness of your breast in his hand, the other still holding you partially aloft.

“Breathe, my dear,” he whispered as you started to unravel, your form jolting with every forceful push of his hips as he pinched your raised nipple. The tears returned, though it felt so right to cry, the warmth stored in your belly blossoming into elated moans as you gasped for air.

“Hondo,” was all you could think to say, “fuck, Hondo—” you repeated, perhaps louder than you meant to be. 

“Dat es what I am doing,” the man above you whispered in a salacious tease. 

“Hondo fucking Ohnaka,” you laughed, at once coming a fourth time that evening as you wailed to the walls, the ceiling, and anyone who might hear you, despite not knowing that indeed your housekeeper would, as she had parked herself for the last five minutes right outside your door. 

“May I, darling? I can’t – hold—” he struggled to keep at it, wanting nothing more than to please you thoroughly before he himself got his. In fact, he had never asked if you had any sort of protection to ward off pregnancy, not that he wasn’t sure he had several bastards out there roaming throughout the galaxy without an inkling as to who they were, or to whom they belonged. 

“Cum inside me,” you uttered coyly, batting your sultry lashes in that way only a woman knew how. Having given him permission, Hondo obliged; you gleefully held his pulsating cock in place, feeling every pump of semen enter you as you cupped your lower abdomen and pushed down on purpose, just to intensify his orgasm. 

The Weequay’s eyelids fluttered as did his erection in your guts, spurts of hot ejaculate coating your insides until there was nothing left of himself to give. He pulled out, a creamy white substance dribbling down the inside of your legs, the man doing all in his power to calm his mind and regain control of his gelatinous limbs.

“I—dat was—” he began, gently releasing your lower half so that you might lie down properly. He would soon join you, bereft of energy, sprawled prostrate on his belly as he began to succumb to drowsiness. “Perhaps I could just… rest here a little while, ah?” he asked.

“My home is yours,” you whispered, cradling the Weequay’s head in your arms as your hands cushioned the sharp angles of his face. You would only leave him momentarily to clean yourself and to locate a clean towel in your personal refresher, doing your best to sop up both his and your own excess.

Once accomplished, you drew him to your bosom like a thing forever to be cherished. You tucked yourself around him like a warm blanket, never once worrying that you might get a rude awakening, though Madam Hilre had her own plans once her suspicions had been undeniably confirmed. 

Still, at that moment, you were floating high above the artificial clouds of Oseon, not caring what daybreak might bring, only that you were content to lie here at Hondo Ohnaka’s side for as long as fate allowed.

---

You showered but did not dress. It was a balmy morning, and the warmth of fresh brewed caf enlivened you. Hondo would encircle you, as if lovers on a honeymoon, gathering your waist with one arm as he partook of his own beverage in the opposing hand. 

Your view was of the gate below, surrounded by a lush garden that Hondo had somehow failed to notice on his way in, taking the time to rub your naked belly tenderly as he peered over your shoulder, breathing in the perfume of fresh flowers that he knew, unfortunately, were not real. 

Nor was the tree that provided you with shade, just to the right of your commodious balcony. It looked real, he thought, knowing that not every planet could be so lucky as to have foliage as lustrous as Naboo, or Eriadu. 

Drinking from his cup, he offered his compliments, the first thing said on this bright, beautiful day. “Delicious, as es everyting en dis house.” His upper lip perked slightly, “including you,” he added cheekily. 

It was so early, and yet faithful Mara had left you a pot of caf outside your door with a timid knock. Had you not already been awake, you were sure you would have missed it, the smell having brought Hondo to consciousness some few minutes later. You were happy he had joined you, your neck craning back to grace the man with a good morning kiss, the hand not wholly occupied subtly pushing his a little lower, his fingers skirting your soft mound. 

“Is that so?” you asked, Hondo entertaining your early morning lust by slipping between the folds of your labia. He spread you apart at the seam, reintroducing himself to your hypersensitive clit only to massage sumptuous little circles so masterfully it made your eyes begin to roll toward the back of your head.

“Et es.” 

You tossed your mug and let it break somewhere off to the side, grasping the back of Hondo’s head as you prompted him closer to you, the Weequay’s long, black tongue delving into the deepest parts of your throat as he bent down to engulf you in his sweet embrace.

You involuntarily writhed, sharing the same breath from Hondo’s lungs as you moaned against his lips, offering him your orgasm through the impassioned furl of your tongue. 

“Stay with me,” you uttered your plea softly, Hondo’s hand once more trailing up so that his fingers could wind carefully around your vulnerable throat. He swiped your bottom lip with his thumb as the rest of his fingers moved to grasp your chin. Then, he forced you to look at him as he studied your face, there being an intensity to his gaze you could not place. 

He meant to speak, only he was interrupted by your servant busting through the door. She did not stop there, rushing onward to the balcony, covering her eyes for sake of modesty even though her voice rang out high-pitched and alarmed.

“Miss! Your father’s coming!” she blurted out, “Hilre caught onto who you’ve brought home!” 

“What?” you turned to face her, not caring that you were naked, only fearing for Hondo’s safety and the sudden announcement Mara had made. “That fucking bitch!”

Mara dropped her hands; her eyes darted between the both of you, Hondo taking a sip from his mug as if unperturbed, thinking he perhaps still had time yet to finish his caf.

“I heard her on the comm! She knows he’s—” Her eyes widened as she had chanced to look, really look, at the Weequay who had on not a scrap of clothes “—Hondo Ohnaka!”

“So I am,” Hondo said offhand with a playful grin.

“How far out is he?” you demanded, wondering what else she may have overheard, ignoring the Weequay who was at the heart of your concern.

“Don’t know, miss, but—” 

There was a sound like that of a single blaster shot. Hondo’s mug shattered in his hand. “Uh—” 

All three of you turned to look; your father’s personal guard was on the lawn, gazing up at you five stories high. 

“Fuck,” you whispered. 

“Indeed,” Hondo replied, dropping the handle to the ground; it was all that remained, the men below belting out curses and obscenities as they began to rush inside. 

“You have to go!” you urged him. Hondo seemed to agree, flying past you and your dutiful maid to gather first his trousers, and then his tunic from off your floor. 

“Mara!” you ordered, “belay them; turn off power to the lift!”

“Yes, miss!” she replied, giving a curt nod of her head. She was out the door in seconds; you thought this woman deserved a raise for all she had to go through on your behalf.

Someone screamed your name; you darted to the balcony once more, Hondo having already adorned his helmet, his goggles, and his crimson coat. 

Your father and several of his hired goons stared up at you, his jaw having dropped to the ground. In your haste, you had forgotten you were in the buff, the man yelling so pointedly you thought he might give himself an aneurysm. “Is he in there with you?!” he demanded,  followed by a furious, “put some damn clothes on, for fuck’s sake!” 

He did not wait for an answer, stampeding into the house with an entourage of four other men. Hondo had slipped on his boots in the nick of time, witnessing the tail end of your father’s heated outburst. His duster jingled with every movement, full of the treasure you had so kindly conferred to his possession, silver eyes sparkling in the light of this asteroid’s star. 

“Go north,” you instructed him, firmly clasping his cheek in the crook of your palm. “Docking Bay seventy-seven, there is a ship there. It should be unlocked.” Your eyes brimmed, knowing this might be the last and only time you ever saw him. “Take it, hurry,” you implored him, Hondo giving you his most stunning smile.

“Ah, a double-seven! What a lucky number, ah?” Then, he paused. “I will never forget you,” he promised, jumping with surprising agility on top of the nearby banister as if it was nothing at all; the railing was fashioned from pure, Durosian marble and quite elegant, though it also served its purpose as a step stool. 

This is when Hondo felt truly alive: laden with gold, jewels, credits, and escaping with his life and dignity intact. He looked over his shoulder when he heard you shout; you were doing your utmost to distract and delay your father’s guards just as the man himself stormed into the room. 

You had common sense enough to grab a robe that had been previously discarded over the high-backed chair of your vanity, tossing it on to clothe yourself, only if so your father’s thugs couldn’t get an eyeful any more than they already had. Then, you heard your own last name; Hondo was calling out to your father from his perch in a nearby tree, the brigand holding on with one hand as he dared to give him a mock salute. It was a gesture that was almost friendly, the scalawag unable to miss out on his chance to gloat.

“Another ting I have stolen from you, ah?” Hondo asked cockily. “Your peace of mind, and your daughter’s heart.” In that moment, the newly risen sun caused a plethora of gems, jewels, crystals and gold to gleam, light refracting radiantly with as many colors as a Kallakean rainbow from out the numerous pockets of Hondo’s stolen coat.

“Filthy Quay!” you father bellowed.

Hondo blew in your direction one final kiss.

“No!” you screeched as your patriarch withdrew his pistol in a fit of unbridled rage. You shoved him as hard as your strength permitted, guards scurrying valiantly to surround you on all sides as others fired aimlessly at the now vacant spot on which Hondo had hung like a Kowakian monkey-lizard from off a single branch. 

Burly men held your arms as you gazed after the retreating form of your audacious lover, your heart beating fervently in your chest with the joyous knowledge he had escaped unscathed to live and fight another day. You could not help it; you laughed without reserve. To simultaneously scorn your father and fall from his favor had been an easy feat. But no matter what was to become of you, you would be content, because it had all been worth it in the end.

Main Masterlist

Hondo Ohnaka Masterlist

[critterbitter]

Language divides and building bridges.

Elesa’s feeling homesick. Emmet, bless his heart, tries to help by infodumping while Ingo frantically runs off to find water (crying is a very dehydrating experience).

((Would you look at that! The kids are picking up kantonese and galarian from each other!))

BONUS:

Heh. Callback.

Want to see more? Here’s the masterpost for submas!

[cultivating-wildflowers]

my book-buying ban ends on August 1st

my library's huge book sale begins on August 1st

it's fate

[system-architect]

my new guy; theka, the servitor! this isn't technically his actual body, just a hologram

[smug self-assured asuran krewe boss voice] yes you can grant our AI office manager executive control over the entire facility. it should definitely also serve as the jailer for the violently rogue other AI we inherited from the other krewe we subsumed. yes i absolutely want you to remove any kind of learning limiters from it and also not give it any lines of code that would make it forcibly power down its cpu tower if left to its own devices without any living interaction for a long period of time. what do you MEAN "that could be dangerous?" or "what if something happens to us and leaves our entire facility abandoned with a supermassively overpowered AI guarding it and it goes insane"? why would any of that happen? it's just a computer. do you want to get fired? i am very smart.

[shirecryptid]

"You're already dead," I said. "But stay anyway. Stay with us, and shelter all the wise-gifted children of the world," and made all three of the spells into one: the terrible murderous truth I had to tell the maw-mouth, and the sutras' longing plea for golden shelter, and the beautiful lie that the Scholomance had been built upon, and into that working I poured all the mana that Shanfeng had given me, the mana that had been saved up to build a school to save the lives of children. The work that Orion had tried to make his own. I repeated the incantation in Sanskrit from the sutras, the incantation that really just meant "stay," and then Liu joined in, saying it in Chinese, the version she'd used in Beijing, and Aadhya said it with me the next time in English, "Stay and be shelter," and even as we were speaking I felt more jolting sparks going through me: Miranda and Antonio and Eman and Caterina had joined our human chain too, behind Khamis, and then there was a thump through us all like a lightning strike: Li Shanfeng had joined the line behind them. I gasped with the surge and said it again, stay, even though I couldn't hear myself speaking anymore; more hands and voices were coming, everyone on Shanghai's side streaming to join in, power crackling through the line into me, and then Liesel's voice was calling out over the noise, "Not in a single line! Get closer and spread out!" and she pushed in next to me, putting a hand directly on my back, another supporting branch. Alfie was right next to her, reaching to touch me as well with Sarah gripping his free hand. In another moment, his father was there too in a line behind him. Wizards from both sides were crowding in now, all of us saying it together: "Stay," getting louder and louder even as the Scholomance and Orion both shook from their foundations. He was getting heavier and heavier in my grasp, as if I was trying to hold him up, along with the entire school and all those other enclaves loaded up on his shoulders, against the dragging undertow of all the sloshing power of stolen mana draining away from under them. But everyone behind me was trying to help, trying to hold them - and then Ophelia and Balthasar were there, too. But they didn't join the chain: instead they came all the way up and put their own hands directly on Orion, next to mine. And then Aadhya, my darling Aad who'd taken that first mad flyer on me, gritted her teeth and put her hand on Orion too, and other people started to grab on to them, spreading out the weight, pouring in more mana. We were all holding on to him and just saying it over and over, stay, in all the languages of the world, and beneath our feet a golden light was rising up out of the widening cracks in the carved inscriptions, filling them in, starting to make them whole, and there was light all around us, warm, full of hope, as Orion lurched forward under my hands, like someone who'd just been pulled back onto solid footing. He gasped and reached out to me, reached his hands out to cup my face, and he said in a ragged, broken voice, choosing, "I'll stay. El, I'll stay," and kissed me, through our tears.

The Golden Enclaves by Naomi Novik

[1o1percentmilk]

feeling so empty tuesday

[cookiecrumbconundrum]

me, researching the most extremely specific thing: wow, why is there absolutely zero research on this very tiny detail of this extremely specific thing, crazy

[vonlipvig]

the pile of books on my desk has reached dizzying silly heights

[rainingincale]

.

[rurifangirl]

No context

Just

Shou but mlp unicorn

[notemily]

I can barely do any of my "stuff" because all my time and energy goes to my job... so my rich fantasy is not having to work. that's it. being able to take life at my own pace and have plenty of time to rest if I feel ill or have a migraine or whatever, not having to drag myself out of bed to go to work because they only give me so many times of calling in sick per month before they start to talk about punishing me for it.

I like the library. but I hate working full time.

[playingonedchess]

i only ever really do things electronically these days, everything used to be on paper like at school all that hand writing stuff and the millions of handouts and reading and sometimes even owning paper books

[fmhobeus]

so, nerdy loser college boy choso *sighs* *opens legs*

a/n: just so you know, this man is gonna make you do all the hard work for a piece of that loser boy dick 😮‍💨 so... um so at some point around 2000 words in i realised this is way more than a hc post :3 eat it up if you will!

nerdy!choso who borderline has no friends except his gaming buddies who doesnt meet irl like ever. he doesnt like going to classes, especially this one. he doesnt need it but it's a requirement for all first years. and boy is glad it is when he sees you come in.

nerdy!choso who only listens to discussions when you're talking. suddenly he needs to put down his headphones and nod at every word you're saying. his eyes follow every gesture of your hand, every sway of your ass, every single time you fix your hair.

nerdy!choso who is starting to get a bit enamored with you, your style, your way of speaking. he loses track of time gawking at you in class from the last benches as you prettily do all the work in the class. he hates how beautifully your hair falls on your face, how nicely your clothes fit you despite being pretty modest for college. he hates how he can see the silhouette of your tits when you turn to the side. but he's too much of a gentleman to keep looking.

nerdy!choso who ends a game early when he remembers you, lying and saying that he had promised someone to meet them somewhere. the place is his bathroom and the person was you. god, you really shouldn't wear those tight jeans to class y'know? how will he continue to be a gentleman if you do?

nerdy!choso who despises groupwork but prays to dear god this class has some reason to pair you two together. he's getting so desperate to talk to you knowing damn well he too pussy to do it on his own. and the lord answers his prayers, the teacher assigns groups of three for a presentation. it's you, him and some slacking trust fund baby.

nerdy!choso who is about to combust and have a full blown panic attack when he sees you approach him after class with that smile on your face that would make the angels swoon. you're going on about distributing the work equally and what not while he is trying his fucking hardest to not accidently make eye contact with you and piss his pants : (

nerdy!choso who now has your name, your number and your email and he feels like the happiest man on earth. his hands are literally shaking as he responds to your request to call. he's overthinking every word he types.

choso: yeah i can do wednesday. choso: i'll be okay with whatever day you want.

nerdy!choso who hops on video call and short circuits with a view of you in an oversized band tee and a brief view of your room. why did you have to be this pretty? why did you have to video call him when you couldve done the work on text? why did you have to put your hair up like that? why oh why did you have you say "choso? hey, you there?" so seductively to bring him back to the present?

nerdy!choso who gets like no work done in a 30 minute call which felt like three hours. he knew he would hardly be paying attention so decided to record the call with your consent, saying he'd need the notes you were typing out on screen only to play it back and stroke his dick to you for what might've have been the twentieth time this week. his strokes only getting faster as you say his name in that voice he imagines sounds way better moaning and screaming it instead.

nerdy!choso who, after the presentation, is on greeting terms with you when he sees you studying in the library. he sits as far away from you as he can while still being able to see you. occupying the coziest corner of the library to stare at you study right when you come up to him.

"can i join you, choso? i'm all alone and your space seems comfy" you say with a smile, "of course, i dont mean to disturb you, is saw you were on your own too, so..."

uh oh, uh oh, uh oh. god no. please no. please dont say yes. please dont be staring at her like some dumb idiot (too late) please.

"uh... yeah sure why not?" he awkwardly says as he makes room for you to keep your things. he was such an idiot for thinking he could say no to your pretty face in the first place.

nerdy!choso who is absolutely drunk on your scent. it feels way better than any alcohol he's ever had. he feels like an animal in heat when he smells your sugary perfume mixed with the styrofoam-y air conditioned smell of the library. you're gonna kill him, yknow? how is he supposed to respond to this? what is one to do when their stupid college crush sits next to them? he gives you a half smile before furiously typing away on reddit, the only place with answers for losers like him.

nerdy!choso whose hands. oh his hands. (can be i a big whore for a second?) his long hands that feel like they're the size of your face. his kempt, beautiful and trimmed nails. his lengthy fingers that seem to yearn for something more to foddle with than just the keyboard or controller. he typed as such an insane pace it made your pussy ache. he was going so fast, jesus. those hands were meant to do more than just ask "how to talk to girls" on reddit.

nerdy!choso who (on the advice of reddit) asks if you would want him to order something for you. you tell you had a frappuccino not too long ago and that it was quite sweet and filling. and he hates himself for thinking that he could give you something much sweeter and filling than that like a horny fourteen year old.

nerdy!choso who is now determined to not come off as a creep so he does his work with the focus of four adderalls. he is typing as fast as his heartbeat, not realising he got two classes worth of work done in just an hour. he looks over at you, blissfully unaware of the absolute war in his mind.

nerdy!choso who feels as though if he doesn't muster up the courage to ask you out right then and there, he'll probably be the biggest loser on the planet. (as if he wasn't already)

nerdy! pathetic! choso who stutters a million times and barely gets the job done then too. his eyes are scanning your entire being (trying his best to not gawk at your tits) for any sign of discomfort.

"so- uhh so ummm... wo-would you, like, uh... like to do this again? sometime?... i got a.. a lot of work done today, so.."

oh heavens, the sheer nervousness in his tone makes you want to pull his pants down and show him how to really get work done.

you agree with a smile, even suggesting a better, more ambient (more romantic) cafe to study in. choso's heart is about to burst and flood the fucking library with his blood the way it is beating at an alarming rate.

"umm yeah uh 5 sounds... awesome... i hope it isn't a-a bother to you?" "no way, choso. i loved today," you offer him a smile as you gather your things, "i really like your hair, by the way" "i like your hair too, y-y-you smell very nice", he gulps.

fuck. why did he say that? what? you smell nice? who says that? is he like ten? you can't help but giggle at the sheer embarassment on his face.

he feels as though he's gonna melt into a puddle and turn to stone and throw up all at the same time.

nerdy!choso who is the most stupidly hot guy you've ever met, you think as you go giggling back to your dorm. mental note: pick a skimpy outfit for 5pm ;)

[nezuscribe]

it's that same summer when you're at the gojo summer estate, the one near the sea. you're still teens, long before gojo became arranged!gojo.

your last encounter with gojo was something you brushed off. but gojo couldn't stop thinking about you. you were this puzzle he didn't know how to figure out. this war map that no matter how long he looked at it, none of his past strategies were making sense.

but the two of you go about your usual routine. he's with his friends, and you stick to yourself.

or at least you tried to.

gojo's mother, the lady of the gojo family, was an earnest and strict woman. everybody knew that she wasn't one for games or jokes. she rarely smiled and rarely, rarely, laughed. you, along with all the other kids, knew to bow extra low whenever greeting her. she seemed to carry more power than her husband, but she didn't seem to find an issue with that.

but for a woman who was so keen on tradition, she seemed to care about you a lot more than the other children.

when she spoke to you, her eyes softened. her voice was gentler, more caring. your sisters especially grew annoyed at this, trying to butter up to her even more, but she seemed to harbor this sort of kindness only towards you.

you didn't question this either. it must be some form of pity, but you appreciated it nonetheless. sometimes you pretended like she was your actual mom, but then you quickly shook that thought away, chiding yourself for thinking something so childish.

this sort of gentleness she had with you turned into her trying to include you in things. some days it would be having tea with you when the other adults were having tea somewhere else, or sometimes she'd plan a little dinner with you where you could get dressed up and act like a lady.

tonight, however, she seemed to think that the best way she could include you was to include you in the group of the other kids, a gentle and guiding hand on your protesting back.

"really, i like the library," you insist, but it couldn't be farther from the truth. you had been inside the library for so many hours that you could blink and those high walls filled with books would be seared into your vision.

"nonsense," she tells you, her blue eyes and white hair looking down at your form as she waves it off, "the kids are outside near the fire. they'd be delighted to have you."

you cringe a little bit, wondering if she was just as daft as her son.

but she had found you near the fireplace, trying to stick its warmth as you hunched over yet another book. she decided that enough was enough, you should be out with the other kids.

so you couldn't say much to the woman who was hosting your family to argue, letting her lead you outside the grand patio and into the overbearing fields that led out to the sea, you soon saw the fire crackling away, the sound of laughter filling your ears.

some of the kids who were facing the two of you nudged the other ones to turn around, looks of confusion on their faces as the noblest lady of the land led a quivering you closer to them.

the usual look of caring she had whenever she was with you melted away, turning to something icy as the two of you neared the group. her hand on your back was still present, but you wished that it could somehow push you deep into the ground where you could hide forever.

her eyes looked over the group until they fell on her son, gojo, and narrowed.

everybody's eyes bounced from you over to her.

"there should be room for one more, yes?" she asks, and all the kids quickly nod, moving over on the logs that they had created into makeshift seats as they scrambled to make space for you.

you wondered what it was like to command such respect from people, what it must be like to have people actually listen to you.

she nudges you forward a little bit and you glance up at her one more time, a sort of useless plea as she encourages you to sit down.

you take a deep breath, offering them all an apologetic smile as you slowly sit on a log, your legs cramming together to make yourself seem as small as possible.

you watched as she walked back through the patio, talking to a maid as she motioned over to your group, saying something you couldn't make out, and you looked back to the other kids, the ones you had barely spoken a couple words to, and wince.

"sorry," you say slowly, your hands fidgeting non-stop in your lap as you laugh awkwardly, wishing you could just drop dead.

you can see your sisters seething in the corner, rolling their eyes as they sneer. the other kids nod at you just as tensely, and you wonder how disrespectful it would be if you just went back inside.

you feel a pair of eyes searing in the side of your face, and you look slightly to your right to see gojo staring at you, his eyes slightly squinting, just as his mother did.

you swallow thickly, picking at your nails as you send him a small smile before looking back down at your lap.

you could still feel him looking at you, but you chose to ignore it.

gojo doesn't really know why his mother liked you so much, but he never truly questioned her. she treated you with a tenderness he never saw her treat anybody (aside from him) with. he sometimes saw the two of you sharing tea with each other, other times hearing her laugh whenever you cracked a joke. something unusual for both of you.

his eyes look at your face, taking in the way you duck your head to seem smaller than you are. your eyes avert any contact, teeth gnawing on your already chewed-up lips. gojo looks at your hands, at the way you pick at your nails. he looks at your dress and sees the way the seams are fraying, the initial shape of the dress looking a little bit unfitting on you. almost as if it wasn't made for you specifically. his eyes narrow in more as he pieces it together. the dress is a hand-me-down from your older sister. not because your family couldn't afford a new dress, of course not, but to remind you of your place.

he feels a sting in his chest.

slowly the conversation with the group goes back to usual, the other kids pretending that you weren't there. gojo could feel the arms of one of the girls latched around his, her body pressing into his side as she tried to get closer to him. he wanted to shove her away, but didn't want to make a scene right now.

one of the girl shifted the talk to the topic of couples, talking about how she saw this husband and wife in town the other day who seemed to actually like each other.

one of your sisters, mei, snorts, shaking her head at the idea.

"us girls either marry an old man or a slightly older one," her eyes look over to you, "there's no in-between."

everybody grimaces at that, her other sister, yume, shoving her shoulder roughly at the crude statement.

"what?" mei scoffs, sitting back up as she nudges her chin to you, "she is."

yume gives her a warning look, one that's clearly saying she's saying too much, but mei doesn't seem to care much. everybody stirs, their heads craning with the thrill of gossip.

gojo looks at you and wants to see what you think about all this, but you're so far in your own world that you don't notice the commotion that seems to be directed at you.

mei calls your name, trying to grab your attention, and your head shoots up, brows furrowed to see who needs you.

"right?" she asks, knowing you don't know the answer.

you look around again, wondering if she was just trying to be funny.

"what?" you ask finally.

"you have to marry someone older, yeah?" mei presses, her eyes gleaming as your confusion melts away into one of embarrassment, looking at yume to see if mei was really serious.

of your two sisters, mei was always the mischievous one, if you could even call her cruelty that.

gojo sits up slightly, his brows scrunching up together a little bit at the mention of this. nobody had heard of any marriage offers, especially this early. you were still underage. who...?

you scratch at your neck, heat rising to your cheeks at the sudden attention on you.

"it was just an offer," you say through clenched teeth, shooting mei a look as she just smiles smugly. she knew she'd never have to deal with this.

"who?" one of the guys asks.

"nobody," you say quickly, waving it off as you rub a hand over your face, wondering if you threw yourself on the fire if that would help.

"naoya!" mei says instantly, your eyes widening as she reveals this very secret thing that even your father was trying to keep hushed away. you feel your stomach drop, eyes stinging in embarrassment as gasps echo around the group.

"isn't he...?" one of the girls tries to do the math, seeing how much older he already is.

"i heard he wants children," another girl adds, giving you a look of attempted sympathy but it just looks like a wince, "like, a lot of children."

you shut your eyes, rubbing at your aching forehead. you look briefly at gojo, only to see him looking incredulously at you. he's the only one who doesn't seem to be talking in a shocked or excited tone.

everybody gets excited about a terrible marriage offer when it's not them who have to offer themselves up.

he's studying you, seeming to be the only one who sees the way your chest is heaving, as if you're struggling to breathe. or the glossy look in your eyes, the way you dart them away so nobody can see. gojo looks over at mei, at the way she looks satisfied for delivering her piece of gossip for the night,

at your expense.

he doesn't know why he feels the way he does, or why he drags the girls arm away from him as he stands up, shrugging his coat over his frame as everybody suddenly looks at him.

but he's only looking at you.

"i forgot to give you your blanket from last week." he says simply, his voice heavy and coarse, as if he hadn't used it in a while, "come with me,"

well, he never said he was good at lying.

but he puts a steady arm on your shoulder, helping you stand up as you shoot him a confused look, letting him lead you away as the silence behind you becomes defeating.

you wipe at your nose, sniffling silently as he leads you through the grassy field.

he glances down at you. this is the second time the two of you have been alone, and the first time he's ever seen you on the verge of tears.

"thank you," you murmur thickly, rubbing at your eyes with your palms as you laugh wetly, "she wasn't supposed to say..." you trail off, looking away from him in embarrassment.

gojo guides you up the porch, behind a long marble pillar where the two of you are away from the other's curious stares.

he's never been good at comforting people, but he's never wanted to more than now.

"she's right, though," you say through a stutter, arms crossing at your chest as if that's what gojo was thinking about, "naoya, he-" you can't finish the sentence, the reality of it too heavy for you.

naoya proposed a month ago. a marriage offer for when you turn of age. he was desperate to find a wife, but not too many women were desperate to make him their husband. but your father needed the alliance, and your father's wife needed you away, so they swiftly agreed to it.

gojo's hand still hasn't left your shoulder, and he gives it a small squeeze.

"i'm sorry about this," you motion to yourself, laughing humorleslsy, "i didn't mean to...gods, i just...i don't want to be his w-wife," you admit quietly, shaking your head as you hide your face in your hands, "i-i don't want to have his children."

gojo feels bile rise to his throat at the thought of that.

he's only seen you twice. why does he care so much about what happens to you?

"somebody else will come along," he says in a whisper, and you look at him through your fingers, dropping them to your side as you blink slowly, rubbing at your cheeks.

"no good man wants to marry me," you tell him quietly, without any trace of pity for yourself, something that was simply the truth, "if not naoya, then another variant of him."

gojo leans down slightly to level with you, his lips pressed into a thin line.

you don't know why he's so close, or why he looks more worried for you than anybody else has. you shrug him off of you, trying to collect yourself as you peer through one of the large windows that look inside the estate.

"you can get rid of that blanket," you mutter, eyes darting from the window to his stunning blue ones, ones that make your knees slightly weak, "i was going to knit a new one anyways."

you bid your farewells, nodding lowly at him as you find your way inside.

gojo watches your back, looking back at the group as he runs a hand through his hair, gripping at his white locks in frustration.

he doesn't know what he's feeling. he doesn't know why he wants naoya suddenly dead. he doesn't know why he's not going to listen to what you just asked him to do, or why he wants to hold onto that blanket.

gojo doesn't know why you suddenly infiltrate his every waking moment, or why he needs to see naoya buried alive just so that you wouldn't have to marry him.

he doesn't know the answer to any of these things. but he doesn't know if he wants to.

[captainsparklefingers]

When you haven't written anything in like 2 or 3 weeks, a sudden burst of creativity that ends with you writing 573 words and ending the scene you'd been working on in your crappy lil story feels like a victory.

...of course the burst doesn't last but hey, any progress is good progress, right? And maybe that'll make working on this easier, too. Today isn't over yet, maybe the juice will come back, and even if it doesn't, I'll take a win, no matter how small.

[filmstarved]

i can fix him and fuck him.

18+ [logan x female!reader]

nobody can break through logan's walls with ease like you can. and he actually lets you, welcomes it even. he needs it to breathe and when he's ready to walk out of the gifted youngsters door, there you are again.

word count: 5,737

logan sulks. he’s so devoid of love and compassion that he sulks. he’s confused most days, too. unsure of who he is and what he even wants. the people who are somehow closest to him can’t even find their way past the fire breathing dragons that guard the drawbridge to his heart. (scott jokes that he doesn’t have a heart and that the adamantium replaced it and he’s fully pumping cold, hard metal).

logan is a man who answers to himself and doesn’t give people even the slightest chance to ask him a dumb fucking question because he’s not in the fucking mood. he’s never in the mood…unless you put him in one. usually a good one.

you earn a smile from logan as easy as the sun makes it seem to rise every morning and the moon to take its place at night. it leaves the team dumfounded. they believe if you weren’t here, logan would have left a long time ago. they’re right. logan used to search high and low for any excuse to leave. he never knew where he’d go, he’d just…go. but you didn’t dare let him out of your sight. not ever since the professor had brought you to what you call home a little over a year ago now.

deep down, he wanted reasons to stay. somewhere deep inside that metal frame…he wanted things to be right again. he’d find it tiring most days to carry around his grief and anger. but you gave him reasons to stay just one more day.

“so we’re working on that thing for charles together tomorrow right?” you asked on a wednesday, standing so cutely in the threshold of his door that it was almost annoying to him.

“so we’re catching that movie downtown with ororo and hank tomorrow right? it starts at 6!” you asked on a thursday.

“heeyyy, lo…do you possibly, maybe think you could sub for scott’s morning classes tomorrow? he has a dentist appointment…,” you shyly asked on a very late sunday night. (logan heard scott’s jokes about his heart so he made you ask. logan was the only one available.)

but behind his stoic stature and intimidating glare fixed on his face accompanied by knitted brows, he’d always say yes…to you. you were his reason for staying. he knew it but would never admit it. you knew it but played the oblivious part well. and the rest of the team would gossip about it when you two weren’t around. but as long as you were here, logan has nowhere else to be.

although as of late, you’ve been busy. much busier than usual. charles has you creating plans for a mission happening soon. when you���re not teaching mutant ethics 101 to freshmen, you’re hauled up in the lab or library; sometimes darting back and forth between the two multiple times a day leaving very little time to worry about logan.

tonight, you brought your work back to your dorm. as you cleaned up a rough draft of an exit strategy, rain began to tap lightly on the window. you had lit candles littered around the room as well as grouped on your table, a small desk lamp illuminated the surface further. as you reached up to stretch your aching back muscles, you were startled by the sound of a throat clearing.

your eyes shot to the sound at your door where logan stood, leaning against the frame; arms crossed and still like he had been glued to the spot. 

“hi lo,” you say. “y’scared me, heh.” you aren’t used to logan greeting you often, especially not this late. he’s over 150 years old, of course he’s grumpy and an early bird. you’re usually the one at his door with requests and invitations to social events he assumes can be nothing short of insufferable. he sighs, his stare dropping to burn holes in the ground. “logan, are you-“

“i think i’m gonna get out of here, bub.”

those words felt like an arrow hitting the bullseye in your chest and then another splitting the first one right through the center.

“wha-what do you mean?…you’re leaving?” you asked, confusion and frustration trembling in your voice.

“it’s too hard being here.”

with that, you stood up from your chair, beelining to him. “c’mere,” you say hushed, pulling on his leather clad arm, trying to unfold them and get him out of the door frame. he doesn’t budge and you pull “the look” that you know he can’t say no to. “come sit with me please, lo.”

he unfolds his arms which allows you to grab his hands to lead him to take a load off on your bed. your bare feet pat on the hardwood floor as you quickly go back to close the door.

you walked back over to him, assessing his body language. ever since he let you use your mutation to “read him” a few months ago, you told him you’d never do it again without his permission. one gaze into his eyes and a touch of his skin and you could feel everything wracking around in his head. anxiety, rage, hate but love, pain. it was hard to feel just for a moment and your heart cracked knowing he was riddled with those feelings constantly.

but right now you couldn’t help it, he was slouched on the edge of the bed, his head dropping to rest in his large hands, and apparently ready to walk right out of the door. your powers are amplified with a touch and even more when you can look into their eyes. from a distance, you could feel a sense of unease and something else… a pressure…built up in your stomach as you surveyed your friend. it didn’t feel bad though…it felt familiar. a good familiar. you stopped reading him and did your best to shrug off the aching stomach feeling and care for your disheveled logan.

he wasn’t emotional, like ever. he hid all that, only showing you what you wanted to see; what he believed you wished him to be — happy, whatever that was. but that couldn’t’ve been farther from the truth. sure, you want him to be happy but also just whatever he wanted to feel, you wouldn’t suppress it or try to change it to fit some ideal of who people on the outside want him to be. yes, he was one of the meanest motherfuckers you had ever met but he was your mean motherfucker. (whatever that means because nothing has ever really been clear between you two).

you walked closer to him, forcing yourself in his diabolical bubble. you stood between his legs, removing his hands from his face to wrap them around your waist. you scooped your hands under his scruffy chin, pulling up to get a look into his bloodshot eyes. oh, he’d been crying.

“lo…,” you muttered. “why were you crying, wolv?” you slide a thumb across his cheek where tears had stained the skin. “why do you want to leave?”

he pulled his face away, breaking his stare with you. he dropped his head forward to rest on your stomach, wrapping his arms around your legs so his hands rested on the back of your thighs. he began to slowly rub the exposed skin of them that your very short night shorts didn’t cover. he lifted the hem of your shirt slightly to press his hot face into the soft, cool skin underneath. he hummed into it, allowing you to feel the vibration.

“logan,” you softly moaned his name under your breath. his fingers press firmly, inching closer to the crease in the skin where your ass meets thigh.

“is this okay?” he asks lowly, when he looks up for confirmation to keep going, you’re already looking down at him nodding. “say it’s okay for me to touch you like this, bub.”

“yes, keep going, logan,” you said curtly. in your voice there is a hint of need. you hadn’t been touched like this since jean’s christmas party, tipsy off spiked egg nog in the garden with a guy whose mutation was a very wet, long tongue. flirting with him seemed intriguing in the moment, but five minutes later, it rendered itself utterly useless due to user error. the sexual tension between you and logan is so potent it usually clears out a room. aside from accidental brushes of hands and quick looks at each others lips mid conversation, neither one of you has acted on it.

his hums turn to growls and soft whimpers as your hands ran through and tugged his hair. your fingers found their way to his nape, splaying out to grip the hair there in your fist. he managed to place a single kiss on the skin right above the elastic of your shorts before you pulled his head back to scrutinize his face.

“you don’t have permission to read me,” he groaned. before you could ask how he even knew that’s what you were doing he said, “you get this serious, focused look in your eyes. i can feel you in my head.”

“logan, what are we doing?” you ask, releasing his hair and stepping out of his bubble. 

his hands drop from the absence of your thighs onto his lap and his sighs frustratingly. 

“what do you mean?” he asks, admiring your body in the dim light with a semi pressing on the denim of his jeans through his boxers.

“i’m…not doing this with you…if you’re just gonna disappear from my bed before the fuckin’ sun comes up. i’m not doing this,” you said, with your hands on your hips.

he pressed his hands into his knees to push himself up to tower over you. he took two big steps forward and stood in front of you. his hand raised up to brush the back of his fingers across your cheek to cup it and rub his thumb over the warm skin. 

he pressed his lips to yours, skillfully allowing his tongue access to it. you let him. “i give you permission,” he moaned in your mouth. “read me. feel how i feel about you…how i’ve always felt about you.”

he welcomed the hesitant slip of your hands past his jacket and under his shirt, shivering and chuckling “mm, cold” into your mouth. you rested your cool touch on his hips and with his mouth obsessed with yours, you read him. 

your head dizzied instantly and the hair on the back of your neck stood up. you had never felt anything as strong as this. you could almost taste the colors in logan’s head. your heart dropped to your stomach like you were on a rollercoaster, feeling sick from adrenaline in the best ways. and then, returned that good familiar feeling. this time buried even deeper in your stomach, moving it’s way lower…and lower until logan was swallowing the noises escaping you. before you literally passed out, you dropped your hands and took back ownership of your lips and tongue. breathing heavily, you moved away from him to collect yourself.

a beat of silence followed by a heavy sigh and a “well, say something” from logan passed and you opened your mouth to speak before shutting it again.

that…was the best thing you had ever felt. no drug could compare to the euphoria that a minute of kissing logan could bring. you could practically feel yourself lubricating and your upper thighs unconsciously squeezed together as you scrambled to find thoughts.

there were none. your mind already dumb and wanting more of him…more of the feeling. your fists planted firmly on both your hips as if you were grounding yourself to the floor to avoid buckling. you eyed the ground, looked back up at him and forwarded with another heated, taking-in-each-others-breath kiss. your hands found their way to the same place gripping the hair on his nape to which he praised the tug with a moan. he supported your balance as your whines got more whiney and needy and your hands held onto him like life support.

“lay down,” he said into your kiss. it wasn’t really a command, more of a warning because he tossed you on the bed like unfolded laundry.

he stood over you as you collected yourself, darting your tongue out to taste the spit he left behind. you propped yourself up on your elbows to get a look at the man casting a shadow over you. without the sounds of pleasure exclaiming in each others mouths, your ears absorbed the comforting sound of the battering rain. a tree branch smacked the window as thunder rumbled outside.

logan took a moment to admire your presence. starting at the top, he gazed upon your hair that he associates with vanilla and roses and the times he’d touch himself wondering how it’d feel being wrapped around his hand and pulled.

as he removed his leather jacket, he took his time mentally undressing you. feeling even more pressure build in your clit, you bore your hips down into the mattress, rolling them in circles to stimulate the swollen nub. he beheld your tits, flicking his tongue over his bottom lip at the sight of your hard buds under your very thin, white tank top. he threw his heavy jacket to the side, letting it thud in a ball on the ground.

“you look so beautiful, sweetheart,” he said, deeply enthralled by your scantily clad figure laid out in front of him. unable to stop staring, you could see the bulge in his pants get larger and it ridiculously turned you on. with you making eye contact with the crotch of his jeans, he effortlessly unfastened his belt buckle. the metallic buckle clanked to the floor as his jeans and boxers pooled around his ankles. 

he stroked himself while he looked upon you. it was like you could read his mind, because you began to touch yourself. the twitch of his lips and darkening of his eyes validated your teasing. letting yourself drop back on the bed, you caressed your body for him. one hand occupied by cupping your tit and pinching and twisting your nipple while the other is exploring the wet spot left on your panties. not being able to handle eye-fucking you any longer, he dropped to his knees on the edge of the bed between your legs. logan hooked his arms under your knees, pulling you close which in your intoxicatingly lustful brain you found funny, so you laughed.

logan spread your thighs open so he could fit in between them to leave wet, sloppy kisses all over your skin. he nibbled here and there, earning soft hisses and hums from your parted lips.

kiss kiss nibble hiss mmm kiss hum nibble nibble bite kiss suck

he spent about a minute just doing that, leaving warm welts in his mouths wake. “i need these off of you, princess.” once he had kissed his way up to the elastic of your shorts, he snapped it. you nodded and he did the honor of pulling them down and flinging them across the room like he was opening presents on christmas morning. 

he let out an amused scoff as he ran his trembling hand down his face, caught between ecstatic disbelief at the sight of your black lace panties with little black bows adorning the seams. you mentally thanked your past self for slacking on doing laundry and only having your “special occasion” panties left to wear.

“d’you know how pretty you are,” he said. his eyes traced over every inch of you in excitement like you were artwork he stole from the louvre and made out like a bandit with.

his hand disappeared to slickly stroke himself, his mouth watering in anticipation for your taste. his chest heaves as he takes in the sight of you, studying every curve prettily laid out before him; thinking about every position he wants to see you in and every way he wants to please you. without another groan inducing thought, he lunged forward to press a kiss to your lips, his tongue demanding attention. you drink his breath like liquor becoming completely intoxicated by him. he needed this, he needed you.

“need…to taste…you,” he breathed in between kisses. with this mouth obsessed with yours, his hands caress your tits, his thumbing circles on one of the nubs while he’s pinching and pulling on the other. your head falls back and your neck rolls at the sensation, earning profanities from your pretty, swollen lips. your tit misses the hand that he proceeds to run down and up your thigh to locate the spot in your panties you were playing with a moment before. as he parts from your kiss, he’s hooked two fingers under the elastic, pulling those off swiftly.

you yelp when he pushes your torso down. you stare up at the decorative ceiling as he savors you, kissing and massaging your thick thighs. he’s enjoying playing with you as much as possible before allowing himself any pleasure. he wants your juice to cover his face…his neck…his arm…the bed…the floor too when he gets you to pop like a water balloon.

“logan…please, please,” you beg, pawing at his hair. you lift your head to watch the man between your legs taking in the sight and smell of your pretty, wet pussy. even in the dim light, he could see how much you ached for him. he not so secretly got entertainment from watching you lightly buck your hips up to his face and he would’ve let it continue but your pheromones became overwhelming for him; engulfing his head in it’s enchanting aroma.

like fresh pie on a windowsill, he was drawn into you. logan opened wide to swipe one flat tongued lick up your slit. he had one goal — to knock all sense out of you, to fully engulf you in pleasure. he wants you dumb and begging for him to stay right where he is — at the mansion and also all over you. 

logan audibly sucked and popped your clit in and out of his mouth, teasing the most sensitive bit. he’d suck and pop and then lick up your slick, repeating the act. one of his big hands reached up to cup your tit, pinching and twisting and circling. from his hair to the tit he wasn’t playing with, you clawed at whatever would ground you. being eaten by logan felt like floating above the stratosphere.

your wet soaked his beard and it only made him more horny, his cock dripping and throbbing in his fist. tasting you, inhaling you, winning pretty sounds from you, knowing he’s the one making you buck up and fuck his nose only made his appetite for you insatiable. he let go of himself to push his pointer and middle fingers into your needing pussy. you hissed and cursed. the thrill of him devouring you began to reach its peak. his fingers pumped relentlessly into you, curling them to stimulate your g-spot. moans, curses, the gushing of your wet cunt, his sucking and popping and vibrating moans mixed with the rain and thunder grumbling outside filled the dorm like mozart’s symphony no. 25.

he wanted to kiss you, so he did. with his fingers still coaxing an orgasm out of you, he shared the sweet taste. he got back on the bed with you, sliding his free hand under your back to push you up to further to see the mess you were making on the sheets.

“look at how good you’re taking my fingers,” he groaned, inching closer to your ear so you could hear his dirty language loud and clear. “you can come for me, baby.” he peppered a few kisses to your forehead, removing his hand from behind you so he could press it into your stomach. this only heightened the overwhelming wash of pleasure coursing through you.

“lo…logan, i’m-“

“fuck my fingers, baby. use them…oh that’s it…that’s it…i feel that clenching, c’mon you can do it for me. go big baby, make me happy.” his dirty mouth and sporadic clit circling and pumping in and out of you with his tireless wrist pushed you over the edge. you cowered into his neck, pulling on his white tank top and biting the salty skin below his ear as your pussy obeyed, erupting with your juices. out of breath and fucking dumb already, you could feel the wet soak the sheets under your ass.

logan pulled his fingers out of you, landing a light smack on your pussy before licking you clean off of his digits. you fell back on the bed, your arms above your head as you heaved and saw stars.

“‘m not done with you, princess.” he slid off the bed, still delighted by your taste and engulfed in your aroma.

“fuuuck,” you groaned. the pulsing lightning feeling spread throughout both legs as an effect of your rocking orgasm. logan was wicked with his tongue, a devious magician with his fingers and you were his sole audience member wondering about his tricks for sleight of hand.

he quickly tossed his tank, that had tug marks from your attempt to ground yourself, to the side, his muscles flexing under his skin. as he let your post orgasm, cock-dumb brain fog clear, he spit in his hand to fuck his fist. his saliva mixed with the pre-cum leaking from the head, he groaned and sighed heavily at the feeling of giving his dick some sort of relief. you, needy for another hit of him, propped yourself up on your elbows to watch the most delectable creature pleasure himself.

just the sight of him illuminated by candles and flashes of lightning outside as he gets off to how fucked out and dumb you look was enough to have you open up again and play with yourself. the sensitivity from your swollen nub required a delicate touch but your pussy ached, clenching around nothing. his knitted brows relaxed, eyes darting from your pretty face, to your tits, to your fingers rubbing circles where his mouth resided moments ago back to look longingly into your eyes.

“you’re gonna stay,” you said. your hand reached your mouth, your tongue swiping a lick up your middle and ring fingers, wrapping your lips around them to coat them in your saliva. “tell me you’re going to stay for me,” you elaborated. your wet fingers found your aching center.

“there’s no where else i want to be,” he answered. he paced closer to the bed where you laid, his dick basically making eye contact with you as he stopped a few inches away. “you’re mine, you know that?” he noticed your hand slow, “keep going,” he commanded. logan reached out to cup your face, tilting his head to get a look at you obeying his every request. “your face…your mouth…,” his thumb swiped across your lips as he spoke. “your body…your cunt.” he leaned down to kiss your mouth, leaving a string of spit attached to your lower lip. “your laugh…your heart,” he said kindly, his hand massaging your scalp. moans earned from his praise escaped you. “you’re all mine. is that okay with you, baby?”

you’re so bewitched by his aura and his subtle touches make your heart race so fast that you can’t do anything but try to maintain his torrid eye contact and nod.

“use your words, honey.” his thumb returned to the softness of your parted lips.

“i’m yours, logan,” you said, taking his thumb in and closing your lips around it. “if you’ll stay with me, i’ll be yours forever,” you breathed around his thumb, speaking from a mix of eager lust and the terrifying need for him to not to be an asshole, just once.

“i’m not going anywhere…i promise,” he said matter of factly before leaning back down to hungrily devour your kiss. “i need to…fuck you…now,” he cursed in between swallowing moans. 

“do what you want…i’m yours,” you said just clearly audible over the storm rumbling outside. you two shared eye contact so intense that you noticed his dick twitch from your peripheral. you took his dick in your drooling mouth, reaching up to squeeze the base of him. it twitched from the warmth, pressure and tongue swiping rhythmically around his angry, red tip. you kept yourself enveloped around his length, bobbing your head to hit your gag reflex. the added lubrication drove him crazy, his abs twitching under the toned skin of his abdomen. you moaned around him purely from the enjoyment you got out of having him stretch the corners of your mouth, feeling the sting from it. 

logan reached down with both hands to hold your head steady while he sped up thrusting into your throat. your gags and gasps for air, his praise and the storm filled the room beautifully. 

“fuuuck, baby, keep that throat open for me please,” he begged. his hands left their position to find a new one — one supporting his thrusting hips, the other petting your head. “oh, you look so fuckin’ pretty with my cock down your throat…you’re taking me so good, sweetheart.”

he pulled his dick out of your mouth to smack it on your face, complimenting how gorgeous you look. he kissed and licked the mess off of your mouth.

“mm, baby i need to know how good you feel.” with that, he rounded the bed to lay down. “c’mere, baby.” you turned around, crawling on all fours to obey him. his cock in its usual place to be, in his fist, leaks pre-cum in anticipation for you to smother it with your warm, clenching pussy.

“lay down,” he said.

“damn, yes sir,” you say, jokingly annoyed with all of his demands. you lay down next to him, your knees instinctively parting slightly. he lays on his side, resting his hand on your stomach, rubbing his large hand in flat circles.

“d’you know how long i’ve thought about this moment with you?” he asked, leaning in to kiss and suck the skin in the crook of your neck. you lustfully sighed at the sensation of his hot breath. his hand finds its way between your legs again, tickling and tapping at your slit. “i want you to read me the whole time i’m inside…can you do that?”

“are you—“

“yes i’m sure, i feel so fucking good right now and i haven’t even felt you. i want you to feel that and more,” he explains, pulling your chin in to taste the desperation on you.

before he came just from your kiss and rutting against the sheets, he hovered above you. his lips stayed attached to your chest, kissing lower and lower to suck a tit into his mouth, flicking your nipple with his tongue then biting softly on the nub. his hand disappeared from the side of your head to grab hold of his shaft, flicking his tip against your clit. his head dropped as he watched and listened to your slick coating his cock. he quickly swiped up and down your pussy trying to savor every fold and feeling. his brows furrowed, not being able to resist your warmth, he lined himself up with your hole, using his hand to guide just the tip into it.

“oh…fuck,” he groaned in excitement. he pushed in just a little more which caused you to hiss. his head shot up and eyes scanned your face for any sign of regret or unsureness. “are you okay? d’you want to stop?”

“no, baby,” you giggled, lifting your arms rest around his neck, one hand always finding a way into his dark locks. “just been a while…keep going, i’m okay.”

with your permission, he pushed in a little more. he let out a deep groan at the feeling of you stretching to form perfectly around him. you gasped, pressing a hand into his chest, feeling a similar sting to the one you felt in the corners of your mouth earlier. against his want to start thrusting his whole length into you, his went slow, watching your demeanor for cues to keep going.

“you feel…fuck…like it was made for me,” he said which caused the butterflies in you to flutter their wings even faster. “are you okay?” his chest heaved and his breath fanned your face.

“fuck me…please logan,” you said. your hands reached his hips, pushing them down onto you. without wasting another minute, he did. 

he bent your knee more to press it into your chest as his hips repeatedly slammed down hard, his balls smacking your ass. with one hand giving him better access by positioning your leg higher, the other cupped and squeezed your bouncing tit.

“oh my…fucking god,” you moaned. you had let the walls of your mutation down, allowing yourself to be flooded by not only your pleasure…but the love logan feels for you plus the absolute sheer euphoria that he was experiencing deep inside of your pussy. it coursed through your body like a steam engine leaving the station. it had felt like you had been brought to five earth shattering orgasms before the one that was bound to shake you again soon.

“you know you feel so good, look at that fuckin’ fucked out smile. can you feel it? can you feel how good you make me feel, baby? don’t stop readin’ me, princess. it’s all for you,” he praised for you to hear every word.

“holy shit…mm fuckin’…ahh!” your hands couldn’t help but find their way above your head, subconsciously reaching for the bed post for something to ground you again.

“here, baby, hold onto me.” logan grabbed your wandering wrist with his free hand, slapping your hand on his chest which you pressed into as if you were pushing him away. before your cock drunk mind could register what happened, he had flipped the two of you so you were on top. 

logan looked so fucking pretty under you. you took a second to breathe and take in the view before bending your knees to put yourself in a squatting position on his cock. you placed your hands on his heaving chest for support as you started to bounce your ass on him. ‘oh this is so fun’, the thought making you giggle in elation as you drilled down your hips, rocking them back and forth to feel him stimulate the deepest parts of you. his thumb bored into your clit, drawing circles on it. 

as you kept bouncing your wet pussy on him just how he liked, logan lifted his knees up behind you and pushed you back onto them. he moved his hand away from your clit and picked his head up to watch his dick disappear deep inside you. then, he spit. his saliva landed on your pussy and stomach. he went back to stimulating you, fully realizing how much that turned you on from the tight clench around him and the extra juice running down his ass onto the sheets under you two.

he, still playing with your clit, summoned your face closer to his with the middle and ring fingers on the other hand. once closer, he grabbed your neck to kiss your fiercely. 

“you’re my good girl, huh?”

‘mhmm’ was all you could muster with his hand around your throat and his hips still ramming his cock into your stretched out hole.

“use those words for me, baby. are…mm, fuck…you my good girl?”

“ye…sss, baby i’m your…good…oh my fucking…girl!!”

“open your mouth.” he fucking spit in it. you moaned tasting him again and feeling it on your face. “good…fuckin’ girl,” he complimented, kissing you and then squeezing your cheeks to spit on your tongue again. 

your body started to go limp and your eyes were practically glued together. you could feel the searing hot orgasm burning up inside. you could feel logan in a way that you never thought possible. everything. 

his love, his passion, his longing, his fear, his anxiety, his lust, his heart…everything was yours in this moment. high on his feelings, you let your head fall back coming undone on top of him.

“oh you’re so pretty…that’s pretty, baby, keep…fuck…use me, it’s all for you.” his words took you further and further into ecstasy. it was a really good fucking trip that you never wanted to end. the pain of his cock fucking you out and his grip clutching your skin like he’d fall off earth without doing so made you moan so intensely that not even the thunder outside could compete.

he could tell you were a few fucks away from collapsing but so was he. 

“baby…you keep clenching around me like that…i’m gonna fuckin’ fill you,” he said. you kept bouncing on it, wanting him to even feel a fraction of how he just made you feel. he closed his eyes trying to last as long as possible in the heaven that he found in you. his thumbs bore into your hips as he used them to ground himself.

“i want it, baby…fill your good girl up.” you leaned down to speak into his ear and then carry on kissing his neck, letting him claim your moans as trophies. 

“fuuuuck…fuuuck,” he moaned as his thrusting became sloppy and you weren’t bouncing as much anymore. his abs twitched again along with his face. 

SNIKT!!

you hissed at the cool metal of his claws against your skin and the feel of him throbbing severely inside you as he let himself paint your walls. you thanked him in pleased moans before falling on his chest. still semi-hard inside, he kissed the top of your head to which you looked up and he gave you a proper kiss. he let himself twitch out a few more dribbles of cum inside you before pulling his claws back in to carefully rub your back.

a few beats of silence went by as you listened to each others hastened breaths and the rain tapping the glass. 

“…i love you, logan.”

“i think you know how much i love you, baby,” he said, smugly remembering how you looked coming on his dick, further escalated by his letting you read him.

you two snuggled naked under the covers and as you laid on his chest and listened to his light snoring, you read him again. 

ease and silence…and love.