#a bed of thorns

[nym-wibbly]

A Bed of Thorns - the ending

I've answered a few Asks recently about the state, fate, and ending of my 12-year-old Belle/Rumple WIP, A Bed of Thorns.

I don't have it in me to admit that this thing defeated me (Once Upon a Time is all about not giving up hope, after all, so that would be silly) but I think it's time to put the ending out here for anyone who'd like the closure to find. It's not a huge secret. I've been sharing details of the ending and epilogue with anyone who asked privately since a couple of years into writing it, and I've never asked those people not to tell others.

As with all my works, anyone is welcome to snag my ideas and original characters for use in their own non-profit fanworks, so if my planned ending doesn't float your boat, by all means create your own! Of all my stories, I know that A Bed of Thorns was, is, and always will be so much bigger than myself. I lay claim to nothing but the words I've written. Even if I'm never able to complete it, the story lives in my head and heart, and the privilege of touching something once-in-a-fannish-career special still leaves me humbled (and more than a bit intimidated!)

Don't click the 'keep reading' if you don't want to know how the story ends!

Rumple eventually lets the Dark Curse (and Regina) go, trusting Belle to find a way to reunite them with Baelfire. A way that doesn't rack up the cosmic debt and devastate more lives. Belle finds the way, because there was always another way—multiple other ways to move between the Enchanted Forest and the Land Without Magic—Rumple just couldn't access those solutions by using dark magic, distrust, or dealing. And, having let Baelfire go all those years ago, he couldn't see the flaw in his approach until he had love in his life again. Magic bean, plot, then Rumple hesitates at the portal, afraid to go through and become powerless on the other side. Afraid it won't work. Afraid that Bae won't forgive him. Afraid he'll fail as a father again. Belle just holds out her hand and waits patiently for him—trusting him to make the right choice for Bae, not doubting for a moment that he will. She's so excited for the big adventure of this strange land without magic. They step together through the portal into Victorian London. In the brief epilogue Rumple and Belle finish up an anxious search by knocking on the Darlings' door, finding young Bae before he's taken to Neverland. Before it's too late for them to be a family.

If you love A Bed of Thorns even a fraction as much as I do - thank you.

Nym - September 2024

[kelyon]

Jack of Hearts/Slow Burn → What is the longest fanfiction you have ever read?

That would be the original 134 chapters of A Bed of Thorns. I didn't read it while new chapters were coming out. I thought it was long enough that I wouldn't mind when I came to the end of it, that I would manage to be satisfied with having so much excellent Rumbelle fanfic.

... I was wrong. There is no satisfaction. I still hunger for more of that fic. I can never have enough...

[pjs-everyday]

Sharing a bed (for the mission) 💕 // Twiyor Month @twiyorbase

[yuushin7]

It's doooone 🙌 I don't really partake in this holiday, but I figured it'd be cool to use it as a deadline to finish this. Otherwise who knows how much I'd nitpick and drag it out xD

Here's Twilight and Thorn Princess for your Valentines ~ Have a good one, solo or not 😉

This is inspired by Original Illustration by author Tatsuya Endo, if you know you know. You have it on my previous WIP post here

[izzystizzys]

clone wars au where fives survives because fox is a disaster and people care about him (derogatory)

aka he hasn‘t slept in 72 hours and while every corrie understands why, that doesn’t mean they have to like it. plus, he already has borderline braindamage from not getting more than five hours��� sleep a night the whole duration of the war, and all the strange injuries and electrostaff burns he keeps showing up with, stabby the clone medic reasons. also bone density is a concern with the half-rations the guard is consistently on, so really this is all a very reasonable emergency measure, he says and cuffs fox to a cot.

yes of course, meathook and rabid nod, who pounced on the commander and pinned him for stabby and his sedation hypo the second he came through the door. very reasonable.

hnngfnhfjfj, fox grunts in the corner, already halfway to insensate. thorn, who knows better than to protest lest he become the next target of stabby’s ire, nods along while switching to fox’s armour.

which is also how palpatine gets himself caught, because of course ‘cc-1010’ activates exactly nothing in thorn’s brain except maybe alarm bells for rancid kriffing vibes, and by the time the chancellor orders him to switch off his blaster’s stun setting and terminate the ‘faulty unit’ at all costs, he’s already recording the interaction and sending it as an attachment to the whole guard command staff as well as the jedi temple.

[jetii]

Mutually Beneficial Arrangement

Part One | Part Two

Pairing: Thorn x Senator!Reader / Thorn x fem!Reader

Words: 13,570 / 34,682

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! enemies to lovers kinda, forced proximity, bodyguard!Thorn, protective!Thorn, smut, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), manhandling, spanking, marking, dirty talk, kind of a lot of dirty talk and most of it is so unserious, size kink?, Thorn is a cocky bastard but it's earned, he's actually very nice despite the tags, there's an epilogue

Summary: You're the most infuriating charge Commander Thorn has ever had the misfortune to babysit, and yet, you're also the one he finds himself falling for.

A/N: I have nothing to say but 🤭

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

"Well, Senator, it's been a pleasure," the Governor says.

Thorn forces himself not to roll his eyes. It's the last day of the week, and the final event you have to attend before returning to Coruscant. It's an evening dinner, and the guest list is filled with politicians and government officials and people Thorn has heard more than enough of over the last several days. Thankfully there have been no surprises, and the night has passed without incident. Now, everyone is exchanging pleasantries and saying their goodbyes.

You smile, the perfect image of politeness, and Thorn wants nothing more than to get the two of you out of here. You're clearly tired, and he can tell that the constant stream of socialization is wearing on you. He's surprised that you're able to maintain such a positive, energetic disposition. He would have lost his mind days ago.

"Thank you, Governor," you say, dipping your head. "It's been a wonderful visit, and I'm glad to have had the opportunity to work with you and your staff."

Thorn stifles a sigh. He's heard this same speech several times already, and he's had to listen to the others respond in turn. It's an endless cycle, one big charade, and Thorn is grateful that it's finally ending. He's ready to go home.

The Governor beams, a wide, genuine smile on his face. He claps you on the shoulder, a gesture that seems far too familiar, and Thorn has to resist the urge to push him away.

"Of course, Senator," the Governor says. "We've been honored to host you. I only hope that our hospitality has been satisfactory."

"It's been wonderful," you assure him, and Thorn nearly chokes.

You're lying through your teeth, and it's obvious. Two of his staff tried to assassinate you, and there's a very real threat against your life, and yet you're telling the man that it's been a great visit. He doesn't know whether to laugh or shake his head in disbelief.

"I've had a lovely time,” you say.

"Come back any time, my friend. It's always a pleasure having you here," the Governor replies, and you laugh, the sound low and melodic.

"Don’t say that, you’ll never get me to leave," you tease.

This time, Thorn does roll his eyes, grateful that his helmet is hiding his expression. The Governor lets out a loud laugh, clapping you on the back once again.

You take a step back, and Thorn takes a step forward, placing himself between the two of you. It's a subtle movement, one that the Governor doesn't seem to notice, but you glance at Thorn, a look of amusement and gratitude on your face.

"I wouldn't complain," the Governor laughs. He turns to Thorn, his gaze sweeping over him. "Take care of our Senator, Commander."

"With my life, sir," Thorn says, a note of steel in his voice.

"Good man," the Governor nods and turns back to you. "Safe travels, Senator. Let us know if there's anything else we can do."

"Thank you, Governor," you say. "Have a good night."

The Governor bids you farewell, and the two of you part ways, with Thorn trailing after you as you make your way through the crowd.

You stop, pausing to speak with a few more guests, and he takes the opportunity to look around the room, searching for any signs of danger. Things have been quiet since the attempt on your life, and he’d personally interrogated the would-be assassins to ensure there would be no more surprises, but that doesn't mean he's not going to remain vigilant.

There's a momentary break in the crowd, and you catch his eye, a tired, grateful smile on your face. It's the first time all night that the two of you have been able to lock eyes, and Thorn's stomach flutters. He's never been more thankful for a helmet, because he's pretty sure that his face is as red as his armor.

You nod, a subtle movement, and Thorn responds in kind before he turns his gaze back out at the crowd.

He doesn't have a name for what's happening between the two of you, and he's not sure what to call it. All he knows is that it's something. Something significant.

You're still pushing his buttons, still teasing him and testing his patience, but there's an undercurrent of something deeper. A respect, and an understanding, and a desire that makes his heart race. He doesn't want this to end, and the idea of returning to his old life, without you, is unbearable.

As the room starts to empty, and the staff begins cleaning up, Thorn notices that you're nowhere to be seen. His heart drops, his blood running cold, and he frantically scans the room, searching for any sign of you.

He spots you a moment later heading out into the gardens, and his shoulders sag with relief. He moves to follow you, and then hesitates, not sure if he should intrude. He doesn't want to bother you, and he doesn't want to ruin the moment. But the idea of leaving you alone is too much for him to handle, and he's out the door in an instant.

The gardens are empty, and the moonlight filters down through the trees, casting a soft glow on the stone path. The air is warm, and the sounds of the city are muted, and Thorn takes a deep breath as he tugs off his helmet, relishing in the peacefulness.

He can see your figure in the distance, and he picks up his pace, not wanting to lose sight of you. You're walking slowly, your back turned toward him, and he pauses, watching as the breeze catches your hair and the moonlight shines on your skin.

You look beautiful, and he’s struck by the sudden realization that this is the last time he's ever going to see you like this.

In a matter of hours, you'll be back on the cruiser, and Thorn will return to his regular duties, and this chapter of his life will come to an end. And, even though he knew it was coming, the thought of it makes him feel hollow inside.

He doesn't want this to be the end, and yet, he doesn't know how to stop it.

Thorn takes a deep breath and starts down the path, making his way towards you. The sound of his boots crunching on the gravel causes you to turn, and you look up at him, a fallen flower twirling in your fingertips. 

He catches a glimpse of a strange expression crossing your face, your eyes shining, and he frowns.

"What is it?"

You smile, shaking your head, and his frown deepens. You're looking at him with a sadness he’s never seen before, and he's not sure what to make of it. You're not wearing your usual mask, and he's not used to seeing such open emotion on your face.

"Nothing," you reply with a shrug. The look is gone as soon as it appears, and you turn your attention back to the flower, rolling it between your fingers. 

"Tell me," he orders. His voice comes out harsher than he intended, and he winces. 

You glance at him, raising a brow. "What's with the tone, Commander?"

"Just tell me," he says, softer this time.

You sigh and look away, your gaze sweeping over the garden. It's a warm day, and the scent of flowers drifts through the air. The two of you are standing in the middle of the courtyard, the sky a deep blue above you. It's easier to see the stars here than it is on Coruscant, and Thorn is reminded once again that he's far from home.

"This is it," you murmur.

"This is...what?"

"This is the last night," you say, and he swallows. "After tomorrow, we’ll be heading back on Coruscant, and then your assignment will be over."

He knows this. He's known it since the beginning. But hearing you say it is still like a punch in the gut.

“It is,” he says, his voice thick, and he looks down at his boots.

You're both quiet, and the tension between the two of you seems to grow. Thorn doesn't know what to say. He’s not sure if there's anything that can be said. He's not good at this sort of thing, and the last thing he wants to do is make a fool of himself.

"So we have one more night," you say, breaking the silence. Your voice is soft, and Thorn can hear the sadness in it. It makes his chest ache, and his throat tightens. "One more night before everything goes back to the way it was."

"Yes," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

You take a deep breath, your chest rising and falling, and Thorn can't tear his eyes away. He's memorized the curve of your lips, the line of your jaw, the softness of your skin, and he's not sure if he'll ever get another chance to see it again. Not like this, at least.

You meet his gaze, and he sucks in a sharp breath, the air catching in his lungs.

"I just wanted to say that I had a lot of fun, Commander," you tell him, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “I'm glad the Chancellor saw fit to send you to protect me."

He feels the same, and more, and yet he can't bring himself to say the words. The fear, and the shame, is holding him back, and he hates himself for it.

"It's been my pleasure," he finally manages, the words feeling hollow. It's not enough, and yet, it's all he can give. He wants to say so much more, but the words are stuck in his throat, and he's not sure how to make them come out.

You tilt your head, looking at him with an amused smile, and you shake your head and laugh. "No, it hasn't."

Thorn stiffens, and he's not sure whether to be offended or embarrassed. It's true, he's hated this assignment from the very beginning, but that was before he got to know you. Before he saw the real you, and fell for you, and wanted nothing more than to be with you.

"Senator," he warns, and you chuckle.

"Commander, please. You can be honest with me, you know," you say lightly. "I won't mind. I can't imagine being forced to be the sole guard of an uppity senator was a very high priority for you. Especially when said senator has a habit of disappearing."

"You're not uppity," he tells you, and you snort, rolling your eyes. "You're not."

"You really are an awful liar, Commander."

"I'm not lying," he insists, and you give him a knowing look.

"So, why are you so keen to get out of here?" you ask, tilting your head. "You must be eager to get back to your usual duties. I'm sure it'll be a relief not to have to worry about me anymore."

"I'm not keen," he says, and you raise a brow. "It's just..."

He trails off, his words failing him. He's not sure how to explain what he's feeling, and the more he tries, the more frustrated he gets.

"What is it?" you prompt, and Thorn sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face.

When his hand drops, his mouth presses into a thin line, his eyes searching yours. "You want me to be honest?"

You nod.

"Fine.”

He takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders, trying to ignore the way his heart is hammering in his chest. He has no idea where the sudden surge of bravery has come from, but he's determined to ride it out, no matter what happens.

“I hated this assignment. From the very beginning. It's been a pain in my ass, and a major distraction from my duties. I've had to deal with more bullshit in the last month than I have in my entire career, and I'm more than ready for it to be over," he admits, and your lips quirk up in amusement. "And it's been even worse because of you."

Your eyebrows shoot up. "Me? What did I do?"

"Yes. You've made my life a living hell, Senator.” Thorn swallows hard, the words spilling out before he can stop them. "Because, every time I was near you, I couldn't concentrate. I couldn't stop thinking about you, and wondering if you were okay, and wishing that things were different. You drive me crazy. You've always driven me crazy."

You stare at him, your mouth agape. Thorn is breathing heavily, his heart pounding in his chest, and his ears are ringing. He can't believe he's just confessed all that, and he can't believe he actually meant it. It's like a weight has been lifted off his chest, and he feels better than he has in weeks. But, now, the fear is setting in, and his stomach is tying itself in knots.

He's said too much, and he knows it. But, it's too late to take it back now.

You're still staring at him, and Thorn can't read the expression on your face. There’s a long silence, and he wonders if you're going to say anything, or if he's just screwed everything up. The suspense is killing him, and he's tempted to put his helmet back on just to escape the awkwardness.

After a moment, you close your mouth, and you look down, your eyelashes fluttering. Thorn watches as a smile spreads across your face and your cheeks turn pink.

A warm rush of relief washes over him, one that leaves him feeling lighter than air. He doesn't know what's going through your head, but he's pretty sure it's a good thing.

"You really are full of surprises, aren't you, Commander?"

Thorn shrugs, the corners of his lips quirking up. "Only when you're involved, Senator."

Your eyes crinkle, and a soft laugh leaves your lips. You shake your head, looking up at him with a fondness that makes his heart ache. He can’t fight the urge to reach out and touch you anymore, and so he does. He cups your face, his thumb caressing your cheek, and you lean into his touch, the smile on your face growing.

"So, why are you so eager to leave? Is it because you can't stand being around me?" you tease, and Thorn laughs, the sound low and husky.

"No, I don't think that's it," he murmurs. "The problem is that I don't think I can stay away from you."

You tilt your head, the amusement on your face turning into something else, and Thorn can't tear his gaze away. You're looking at him, really looking at him, and he feels the world around him fade away.

"Then don't," you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper.

Your words hang between the two of you, and Thorn finds himself leaning in, his heart racing. You're close, and his hand is still on your cheek, and all he can think about is how much he wants to kiss you.

And, for once, he lets himself do it.

His lips brush against yours, and you gasp, your body stiffening. Thorn’s stomach clenches, a rush of panic washing over him, but before he can pull away, your hands reach up, cupping his face. 

He melts into the kiss, his free hand finding your hip, and he pulls you flush against him. You let out a soft moan as his tongue darts out to taste you, and he groans, his grip tightening as your hands grip his chest plate.

The two of you move together, the kiss turning from sweet and gentle, to heated and passionate. You taste sweet, like the dessert you'd eaten earlier, and he finds himself quickly getting lost in the way your lips move, in the feeling of your body pressed against his, in the sound of your soft gasps.

He's never felt this way before, and he never wants it to end.

You're the most incredible thing he's ever experienced, and he doesn't want to let you go.

You pull away, and Thorn can't help but chase your lips, a low whine escaping him. You laugh softly, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, and then you take a step back, putting some distance between the two of you. He doesn’t let you go far, his hands still gripping your waist, and he searches your face, his heart hammering.

"That was..." you trail off, a dazed look in your eyes. Your cheeks are flushed, and your lips are swollen, and you're looking at him like you're seeing him for the first time. It makes his heart race, and a smug satisfaction settles over him. He did that.

He can't stop the laughter that bubbles up from his chest. "Incredible? Amazing?" 

You roll your eyes, shoving his shoulder playfully, and his grin widens.

"Shut up."

"Yes, ma'am," he replies, his voice soft and teasing.

You give him a stern look, but there's a smile tugging at your lips, and Thorn can't resist leaning down to capture your lips with his. You hum, leaning into him, and his arms wrap around you, pulling you close.

You break the kiss, and Thorn leans his forehead against yours, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"I think we should save the rest for later, Commander," you murmur, and Thorn's heart skips a beat. He's not sure if he heard you correctly, but the way your fingers trace the edge of his jaw is all the confirmation he needs.

"Okay," he agrees quickly, his voice hoarse, and you give him a satisfied smirk.

"Good," you hum. Your thumb moves across his mouth, wiping the lipstick from his lips, and Thorn has to resist the urge to capture your finger between his teeth.

You press one last, lingering kiss against his mouth, and then pull away, stepping out of his arms. "Now, I should get back to my quarters. We can finish this there."

Thorn blinks, his eyes wide, and his jaw drops. He's not sure what to say, and he can only stare at you in shock. You've completely caught him off guard, and the confidence and boldness you're showing is enough to make him weak in the knees.

"We can?" he stammers, and you laugh.

"I think we both know that we've been dancing around each other for weeks now," you reply. "Don't act so surprised."

He can't deny it, and he doesn't try.

"Are you sure about this, Senator?"

You give him a wicked grin, and Thorn swallows hard, his stomach tightening.

"Of course," you say lightly. "You don't think I'd let you kiss me like that and then walk away, do you? No, Commander, I want the full experience."

He blinks, and then lets out a short, surprised laugh. You're shameless, and it's one of the things he likes most about you. He doesn't know how he got so lucky, or how this is even happening, but he's not about to back down from the challenge. Not when you're looking at him like that.

"And you think you can handle that?" he murmurs, his voice dropping lower. His hand trails down your side, brushing against the curve of your waist, and you shiver, a soft sigh leaving your lips.

"Oh, Commander," you breathe. "I know I can. Can you?"

Thorn's hand cups your chin, and he leans in, his breath ghosting over your ear. "Oh, I'm sure I can handle whatever you've got, Senator."

You let out a shuddering breath, and he smiles triumphantly, feeling a thrill run down his spine.

"Well then," you purr, a mischievous gleam in your eyes. "We’d better head back. We have some...negotiations to discuss."

Thorn laughs, the sound low and rumbling, and he offers you his arm. "Do we, now?"

"We do," you confirm as you loop your arm through his. "We’ll have to see if we can't reach a mutually beneficial arrangement."

"It could take a while, Senator," he teases. "You're a very stubborn woman. We could be here all night."

You let out a laugh, and the sound fills him with happiness. He can't remember the last time he felt like this, and he's not sure if he ever has.

"Oh, I'm counting on it, Commander."

The moment the door to your apartment closes behind the two of you, Thorn finds himself pushed up against it, his back slamming against the wood, and a gasp escapes him as your lips crash against his. His helmet clatters to the floor, forgotten, and his hands come to rest on your waist, his fingers digging into the soft fabric of your robes.

It's the middle of the night, and Thorn can barely see you in the darkness, the moonlight shining through the window casting the room in a dim, silvery light. The only other source of light is the soft glow of the city outside, and he feels like he's in another world, somewhere far away from reality.

It's a nice feeling, knowing that the two of you are alone, that there's nothing keeping you apart, and Thorn doesn't waste a second.

He tears off his gloves, and his hands slide under the hem of your robes, pushing them up. Your skin is soft and warm beneath his touch, and he can feel the heat of your body as his palms skim over the bare skin of your thighs. He squeezes your hips, drawing you closer to him, and a low moan slips from your lips.

You're both desperate, the need to feel each other's skin overwhelming. Your hands are everywhere, exploring every inch of him, and Thorn's skin feels hot, like he's burning up from the inside.

"Senator," he mutters, his mouth trailing along the line of your jaw. You hum, tilting your head back, giving him access to the column of your neck, and he doesn't hesitate, his lips skimming over your skin.

"Commander," you breathe, a breathless laugh escaping you when he bites down on the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. Your fingers curl in his hair, tugging sharply, and Thorn grunts, his hips bucking forward and grinding against you.

"You know, Senator, there are a lot of things that I've been thinking about," he tells you. His mouth presses against the curve of your shoulder, his hands slipping higher to brush over the curve of your ass. "A lot of things I've wanted to do with you."

You chuckle, a breathless sound that makes his blood heat. "Oh?”

Thorn noses aside the neckline of your dress, exposing the smooth skin of your shoulder, and his mouth immediately finds your collarbone, his tongue sweeping across it. "Mhm. I have a very active imagination, you know."

Your hips roll against his, and Thorn hisses, his grip tightening. Your lips brush against his ear, your breath hot against his skin.

"Do tell, Commander," you whisper. "I want to hear all about it."

"All of it?" he asks, and you hum, nipping at his earlobe. His skin prickles, and he feels the shiver run down his spine.

"Every single thing."

"Well, first, I've thought a lot about what you'd feel like," he starts. His hand moves to your front, pushing the fabric aside until his fingers brush against the bare skin of your abdomen, and you inhale sharply, the muscles flexing under his touch. "What you'd sound like, when I touched you."

He moves his hand lower, his fingertips trailing along the edge of your panties. You bite your lip, and he pauses, searching your face. You're flushed, and your eyes are hooded, and Thorn swallows, his blood heating.

"Is that all?" you ask, and he chuckles, shaking his head.

"I’m glad you asked, Senator," he says, his fingers sliding over the fabric of your underwear. You gasp, your hips bucking forward, grinding into his hand. He can feel how wet you are, and he bites back a groan. "Because I've had quite a few ideas lately."

"Oh, really?" you ask, your voice low. "Tell me, Commander, what else have you been thinking about?"

Thorn grins, and then, without warning, his hand slips into your underwear, his fingers sliding between your folds. You cry out, your body going tense, and Thorn's other hand wraps around your waist, holding you steady. He works his fingers slowly, his touch gentle and teasing, and your head falls back, your eyes fluttering shut.

"I've thought a lot about how you'd look, sitting on my face, with my tongue buried inside you," he whispers, his mouth moving along the curve of your jaw. Your breath hitches, and he bites back a smirk, his fingers continuing their slow exploration. “Or how you'd look on your knees, looking up at me with those pretty eyes of yours, begging for more."

You let out a low whine, and he can feel your thighs quivering, your hips rolling into his hand.

"I've thought about bending you over my desk, or pressing you against the window. Maybe even spreading you out on my bed, keeping you there until I'm satisfied."

You whimper, your hands coming up to grip his shoulders. His fingers rub tight circles around your clit, and you grind against him, a soft moan escaping you. You're soaking wet, dripping onto his hand, and the feel of it makes his cock throb.

"You have a filthy mind, Commander," you tease, and he grins, his nose nuzzling the spot behind your ear.

"I told you, I'm very creative," he says lightly. "And there's nothing I can't accomplish, if I put my mind to it."

"You are very dedicated, I'll give you that," you mumble, a soft moan escaping you when he finally pushes a finger inside of you. You're so wet that he has no trouble slipping another in, and your hips rock, a shuddering gasp escaping you. "Fuck."

He searches for that spot deep inside of you, his fingers curling, his eyes fixed on your face. He's watching you carefully, gauging your reactions, and when you let out a sharp cry, he knows he's found it. Thorn grins, his thumb pressing down on your clit, and your whole body stiffens, a breathless moan falling from your lips.

His free hand moves up to cup your chin, his thumb brushing against the seam of your lips. You open for him, and his thumb slips into your mouth, stroking the velvety heat of your tongue. A groan rumbles through his chest as you suck on his finger, your eyes locking with his.

"Do you like this, Senator?" he murmurs, his breath fanning across the skin of your neck, and you nod, a muffled whimper escaping you.

"Mhm," you groan, the word turning into a sharp gasp when he crooks his fingers again, his pace quickening.

He presses a kiss to the underside of your jaw, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

"I'm going to fuck you so good," he growls. "Gonna make you feel so fucking good."

You whimper, and Thorn bites back a smirk, his hand gripping your chin, forcing your head up. Your eyes meet his, and he can see the desire burning in them, the way your pupils are blown wide with lust. His other hand speeds up, his thumb circling your clit, and your hips start to rock, matching his movements.

"You've been driving me crazy for months. But you knew that, didn't you?"

"I have," you admit, a breathless laugh escaping you. The sound turns into a soft moan as he thrusts his fingers deeper, and Thorn's hand tightens, his eyes never leaving yours.

"It was very cruel of you, Senator. Do you know how hard it was to stay focused when you kept making me blush? And all those little comments," he mutters, and your eyes flash with mischief, a grin tugging at the corners of your lips. "You knew what you were doing, didn't you?"

You bite down on his thumb, and his eyes widen, a low groan leaving him. "I had a feeling."

He lets out a low, rumbling laugh. "So you've been trying to drive me crazy on purpose?"

"Yes, and it worked, didn't it?" you ask, and he grins, cupping the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair. You gasp, a shudder running through you, and he tugs on it, pulling your head back until his lips can brush against the shell of your ear.

"You have no idea," he breathes. "You have no fucking idea."

He pushes you backwards, and your back hits the wall with a soft thud. Thorn drops to his knees, his fingers still pumping into you, and he shoves your skirts aside so he can get a better look. He's rewarded with the sight of your slick-covered thighs, your soaked underwear stretched over his knuckles and he lets out a low groan.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he breathes. His fingers slip out of you and slide over the damp fabric of your panties, and his thumb strokes over the swollen bundle of nerves, teasing you. "And so fucking wet. Look at how wet you are for me."

You let out a soft whimper and nod, your hands gripping the hem of your skirts. Thorn's eyes flicker to yours, and then he leans in, pressing his mouth against the fabric, his tongue swiping over it. You cry out, your knees buckling, and Thorn's hands grip your thighs, keeping you upright.

He sucks at the fabric, and the taste of you explodes on his tongue. You're sweet and tart and perfect, and he can't get enough. He can feel your clit throbbing beneath the fabric, and he moans, his tongue licking a hot, wet trail over it.

"So good," he whispers. "So fucking good."

He pulls back to tear your underwear down your legs, and then he quickly shoves his fingers back inside of you. His free hand grabs hold of your leg, lifting it up and draping it over his shoulder. You're spread open in front of him, and Thorn licks his lips, his eyes hungrily taking in the sight of you.

You're a vision. Your skin is flushed, your hair mussed, and your eyes are glazed over, half-lidded with pleasure. Your breasts heave, and the soft sounds of pleasure spilling from your lips fill his ears, the only other sound in the room the wet slap of his hand as it works inside you. 

"I'm not gonna stop until you come on my face," he murmurs, and you moan, your hands tangling in his hair, tugging on it sharply.

"Then what are you waiting for, Commander?" you taunt breathlessly. 

His lips quirk, his eyes darkening.

"I guess I'm just waiting for you to beg."

"Don't hold your breath," you shoot back. Thorn chuckles and shakes his head.

"That's alright," he says. "We've got all night."

You glare down at him, and he meets your gaze, his lips curling into a smirk. He leans in, his nose nuzzling the crease of your thigh, and then his mouth closes over your clit, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud. Your body stiffens, and a loud cry escapes you, your foot digging into his back as your hands fist in his hair.

He's not gentle. There's nothing tender about the way his tongue is licking at the seam of your pussy, or the way his fingers are pistoning into you, or the way his teeth are scraping over the sensitive flesh.

He doesn't want to be gentle.

He wants to make sure that the next time you see him, every single time you look at him, you're reminded of how good it felt to have his mouth on you. You're going to remember the way he made you fall apart, and the feeling of his hands on you.

You're going to be ruined, and Thorn is going to make sure that no one else is ever going to be able to measure up.

"Fuck," you choke out, your voice raw, your chest heaving. He can't help but grin, his teeth nipping at the soft flesh, and you let out a sharp gasp. "Don't stop, don't you dare fucking stop."

"Come on, Senator," he growls, his fingers speeding up. He feels your cunt clench around him, and he groans, his eyes fluttering shut. “Come on my face. Show me how good I'm making you feel."

Your breath comes out in harsh pants, and he can tell that you're getting close. Your muscles are tensing, and your hips are jerking, and Thorn doubles his efforts, his mouth sucking hard on your clit.

"Ah, Commander!"

Your hips buck against his face, and your hands grip his hair, holding him in place. Your entire body tenses, your thighs quivering, and then, with a sharp cry, you come undone. 

Thorn lets out a strangled laugh as you writhe and shudder above him. Your walls flutter around his fingers, and he can feel your release dripping down his wrist, coating his knuckles. He laps it up, his tongue dipping between your folds, and he can't help the way his hips grind into the floor, desperate for some friction.

He doesn't stop, even as you whimper and your body starts to tremble. He keeps going, his tongue working against your clit furiously. He can't get enough of the way you taste, and he doesn't want to stop. He could do this forever, he thinks. Just bury his face between your thighs and eat you out for hours, making you come over and over again.

You let out a sob, your body going taut as he pushes a third finger into you, stretching you open. He thrusts into you, his mouth working relentlessly, his teeth scraping over your clit. Your hips rock into him, grinding against his face, and Thorn grunts, his eyes locked on yours.

"Oh, oh, oh," you gasp, your voice strained. "Fucking hell, Thorn!

The sound of his name falling from your lips is enough to make him groan. He pulls his fingers out, and then immediately thrusts them back in, his mouth latching onto your clit. Your entire body shudders, and then you're coming again, a hoarse scream tearing from your throat.

He hums at the sound, a smug smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He didn’t expect you to be so vocal, and he can’t help but wonder if anyone can hear you. If the guards on duty can hear the way you're crying out for him, the way you're screaming his name.

He hopes they can. He hopes the entire damn city can.

"That's it, Senator," Thorn coos, his tongue gently lapping at the mess between your legs. You whimper, your hands pushing his face away, and he lets out a rumbling laugh, his nose skimming the inside of your thigh.

He presses one last kiss to the apex of your thighs before he sits back, admiring his work. Your skirts are rumpled and pushed up to your hips, exposing the smooth expanse of your trembling thighs, and you're gasping for air, your chest heaving. You look absolutely debauched, and the sight makes his blood heat.

Thorn grins, licking his lips, and he watches as your eyes lock onto the movement. “Did that live up to expectations, Senator?"

"Not bad, Commander," you pant. "I'm impressed."

"I told you, I always get the job done."

You laugh, the sound turning into a low moan when he removes his fingers from you, a thin line of slick connecting them to your cunt.

"I guess you did.”

He smirks, bringing his fingers to his lips and sucking them clean. His tongue slides between the digits, and he sees your eyes darken, a breathless laugh escaping you.

"Are you satisfied, Senator?" he asks, his voice dropping, and your eyes glint, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips.

"For now," you murmur.

He lets out a rumbling laugh, leaning in and pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh.

"Good. Now it's my turn,” he says, his nose skimming the line of your leg. He sees the way your cunt clenches, the way the muscles of your abdomen flex, and his smile widens. He wants to bury his face between your thighs again, but he has other plans.

"What did you have in mind, Commander?" you ask, your voice heavy with desire, and he gives  noncommittal shrug, his hands sliding down the length of your legs, cupping the back of your knees.

“I’ll show you.”

 Without waiting for a response, Thorn wraps his arms around your thighs, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder. You yelp, your hands gripping the edge of his breastplate, and he laughs. His hand slides under the hem of your skirt, his fingertips brushing against the curve of your ass, and he hums, giving it a firm squeeze.

"Commander!" you cry out as he slaps your ass, the sound echoing through the room. You let out a surprised squeak, and Thorn smirks, his palm smoothing over the stinging flesh.

"Senator, I can assure you that this is in the best interests of everyone," he says lightly, and you snort, slapping him gently upside the head. He chuckles, giving you another quick swat. He doesn’t miss the way your hips buck, the soft whine that falls from your lips.

"In the best interest of who?"

"You, for one. And me. And any poor souls that have the misfortune of having to deal with us," he tells you as he walks. “We're going to spend the rest of the night working things out, Senator. The sooner we reach a conclusion, the sooner everyone will be happy."

"Well, when you put it like that, how can I refuse?"

"I knew you'd see it my way," he replies, his hands skimming over the curve of your ass, and then, without warning, his fingers dig into the backs of your thighs, and he lifts you, swinging you around.

You shriek, laughing and swatting at his armor, and he can't stop the smile that spreads across his face as he adjusts you, wrapping your legs around his waist. You're warm and pliant in his arms, and the feeling of your arms looping around his neck sends a shiver down his spine.

You look up at him, and his breath catches at the sight of the warmth in your eyes. He's never seen you like this, and he's definitely not used to seeing you this vulnerable. He can't help but be amazed at the trust you've put in him. It's a powerful feeling, knowing that someone like you, someone who could have anyone they wanted, is willing to let their guard down with him.

It's not a feeling he's particularly familiar with, but it's one he wants to get used to. He's tired of pretending, and he's tired of being afraid. He wants to know what it's like to be close to someone, and to be wanted, and he's never been more certain that you're the person he wants to experience that with.

He's spent months chasing you, and now, finally, he's caught you.

He can't imagine a better feeling.

Thorn carries you through the darkened apartment, his hands gripping your thighs, and you press kisses along his neck and jaw. Your lips are soft and warm, and he lets out a contented sigh, his eyes fluttering shut.

He’s memorized the layout of the apartment, and he doesn’t need the lights to know where he's going. He can find his way to your bedroom in his sleep, and he's not surprised when his foot nudges open the door.

The curtains are open, and the moonlight spills through the window, bathing the room in a soft, silvery glow. He’s sure the view of the gardens would be beautiful, if he bothered to look. Right now, though, all he can focus on is the woman in his arms.

His gaze falls on the bed, and he feels a thrill of anticipation run through him. It's huge, bigger than any bed he's ever slept in, and covered in plush pillows and thick blankets. Thorn lets out a rumbling laugh, and then, without a word, he tosses you onto the mattress.

You bounce slightly, a soft squeak escaping you, and he takes a moment to admire the way your hair fans out beneath you, your robes slipping off your shoulder. You're gorgeous, and the sight of you lying in the middle of the bed, spread out for him, is almost too much for him.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, your eyes locking with his. "So what did you have in mind, Commander?"

"Strip," he orders, his hands coming to rest on the fastenings of his belt. "I want to see all of you."

You don't move, and he raises a brow, tilting his head.

"Unless you'd rather I tear those pretty robes off of you," he says, and something flashes across your face, your eyes darkening. "Which, honestly, I'm perfectly fine with. It's been a long day, and I'm not feeling very patient."

"You're awfully demanding, Commander," you murmur, and his lips quirk, his gaze fixed on yours. He drops his belt to the floor, his kama coming along with it, and his chestplate follows, his pauldrons and vambraces soon joining the pile.

"And you're not listening," he replies lightly, his voice dangerously low, and he watches as your eyes widen, your cheeks flushing. "Maybe I should show you just how serious I am, Senator."

"As much as I love the idea of you tearing my clothes off," you say softly, pushing yourself up and sitting on the edge of the bed, "I do quite like this dress. It's new."

"I like it too," he admits, his gaze following the curve of your neck, the dip of your collarbone.

You chuckle, rising to your feet. "Good."

His eyes lock with yours, and Thorn swallows thickly, his throat suddenly feeling tight. He watches as you step forward, your hands moving to the fastenings of your dress, and his breath catches in his throat, his heart hammering in his chest. His fingers slip over his codpiece, his eyes following the movement of your hands. By the time he’s managed to unfasten the plates, he sees the top of your dress sliding off your shoulders, the fabric pooling at your feet.

"Oh, fuck," he breathes. He can't help but stare, his eyes roaming over every inch of exposed skin, and you let out a soft laugh, stepping out of the fabric, leaving you completely bare.

"What?" you ask, and Thorn doesn't respond, his mouth suddenly too dry.

"Maker," he mutters, and your smile widens.

"Like what you see, Commander?"

"You have no idea," he growls, his hands suddenly moving as fast as lightning, his armor dropping to the floor.

He's desperate, his body aching with need, and it doesn't take him long to shed his armor. The plates drop to the floor with a series of loud clanks, and Thorn doesn't bother looking down, his eyes locked on yours.

By the time he's pulled off his briefs, you've unhooked your bra and tossed it aside, and Thorn has to stop himself from lunging at you. His cock is throbbing, painfully hard, and the sight of your bare chest makes him feel lightheaded.

He moves quickly, his hands finding your waist, and he lifts you, your legs automatically wrapping around him, your hands cupping his face. You feel incredible, the soft skin of your body pressed against him, and for the first time, there's no armor, no titles, nothing separating the two of you.

And when your lips brush against his, the kiss is softer than anything he's experienced before. He sighs into the kiss, his arms tightening around you, and he feels your legs squeezing around his waist, a soft whimper falling from your lips.

"Senator," he breathes as you part, his nose brushing against yours, and you lean in, your forehead resting against his.

"I don't think we need those titles anymore," you whisper, and he nods, a small laugh escaping him.

"Yeah. Okay."

You lean in, and his lips meet yours once more. This time, the kiss is more urgent, and his hand slides to the nape of your neck, holding you in place as he kisses you, his tongue slipping between your lips. You taste like mint and spice, and the feeling of your mouth against his sends a shock of pleasure down his spine.

Your hands slide down his neck, his shoulders, his chest, and Thorn groans, his muscles tensing under your touch. You hum, nipping at his bottom lip, and then your hand slides lower, wrapping around his length, and Thorn's head drops back, a shuddering moan falling from his lips.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he chokes out, and you grin, your thumb rubbing against the head of his cock. "That's—"

You squeeze, and his hips buck, a sharp cry falling from his lips. His knees threaten to give out, and Thorn grunts, his body shaking.

"So big," you murmur, and a strangled laugh spills from his mouth, his eyes rolling back.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," he manages to croak. "I'll go easy on you."

You scoff, rolling your eyes, and Thorn grins.

"I'm kidding," he murmurs, and then, without warning, he pushes forward, pressing you into the mattress. Your back hits the soft covers, and Thorn climbs over you, his weight resting on his elbows. 

Your hair fans out beneath you, the moonlight bathing the sheets, and he takes a moment to admire you again before he leans down, his lips trailing over your neck.

"Fuck, I could get used to this," he mumbles against your skin. Your hands tangle in his hair, and you arch beneath him, a soft moan escaping you.

"Yeah?"

"Mmhm," he hums, kissing along the curve of your shoulder, his hand coming up to cup your breast, his thumb flicking over your nipple. 

Your gasp turns into a whimper as he sucks a mark into the skin, and he can't help the swell of pride he feels, his gaze drifting to the mark. It’s a deep purple, stark against your skin, and Thorn finds himself smirking. You’ll have no trouble hiding it underneath your robes, but every time you move, every time you touch it, or when you catch a glimpse of it in the mirror, you're going to remember the way his mouth felt on you.

"You look good like this," he says, his voice thick with arousal, his hand drifting lower, and your eyes flutter shut, a soft moan escaping you.

"On the bed, or marked by you?"

"Both," he says with a chuckle. Thorn feels his heart skip a beat, his cock twitching. The image of you, splayed out on the bed, covered in his marks, is a very appealing one. “I could do this for days. Cover every inch of your body."

"Maybe next time," you tell him, and he raises a brow, his lips trailing over the valley of your breasts.

"Next time?"

"Unless you're opposed to it, Commander."

"I am not," he growls, his fingers brushing over the seam of your cunt. "Definitely not opposed to that."

You shiver, your thighs parting, and Thorn lets out soft breath, his gaze drifting to the apex of your thighs. He can't believe he's actually here, that you're letting him touch you. It's been months since the first time he saw you, and while he's imagined this moment more times than he'd care to admit, none of his fantasies can compare to the real thing.

"I'm glad we're on the same page, then," you say lightly, and Thorn can't help but chuckle, his fingers dipping between your folds.

"Senator, I'm not sure if I've made myself clear," he starts, his fingertips sliding through the slick dripping down your pussy. You let out a strangled moan as he spreads it along the swollen lips, his thumb teasing the throbbing bud of nerves. 

"But I am very interested in there being a next time. And the time after that. And the time after that. As many times as you want. In fact, I'm willing to work on a very generous schedule, and I'm open to negotiation. But only with you. So please, Senator," he says, his thumb pressing against your clit. Your back arches off the bed, a strangled moan falling from your lips, and he grins. "Be reasonable."

Your eyes flash, a breathless laugh spilling from your lips. "I'll have to take it under advisement. You've made a very compelling case, Commander."

"Oh, that was just the opening argument. Now," he continues, his fingers circling your clit, his other hand reaching between the two of you and grabbing his cock. His eyes lock with yours as he rubs the head against your dripping slit, and a whimper spills from your lips.

"Let's see how the rest of the debate goes."

Your response is a gasp, a sharp moan escaping you when the head of his cock dips into your entrance. Your hips rock forward, taking more of him in, and Thorn bites back a groan, his fingers tightening on his cock.

He wants to take his time, wants to tease you, wants to push you right to the edge and make you beg for it.

But he can't. Not tonight.

The thought of being inside you, the heat of your body surrounding him, is too much. He needs to know what it feels like, needs to feel you around him.

And judging from the look on your face, the way your eyes are fixed on the space where the two of you are connected, you need it just as much as he does.

Thorn doesn't waste any more time.

With a slow, steady push, he slides inside of you, his head dropping forward, a choked groan escaping him. You're so fucking warm and wet and perfect, and it takes everything in him not to slam his hips into yours. He wants to, he really fucking does, but he's also trying to be careful.

He hears you whimper, and his gaze moves to your face, his brow furrowing when he sees the wince.

"Oh," he says softly, and his hand moves to the curve of your hip, his thumb stroking the soft skin. "You're so fucking tight, sweetheart. Is this okay?"

"Yeah," you mumble, a breathless laugh escaping you. You're flushed, a sheen of sweat covering your skin, and Thorn doesn't move, doesn't push in further. He waits, his hand caressing your hip, his eyes searching your face. "I'm just not used to..."

"Big?" he supplies with a smirk, and you roll your eyes, a huff escaping you.

"No. Well, yes. But it's been a while."

“Ah," he hums, and then he leans in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "Do you want me to be gentle?"

"No," you say, shaking your head.

His brow furrows, his head tilting to the side. "No?"

"I want you to fuck me, Thorn," you murmur, and his throat bobs. He feels the way your cunt clenches around him, the way your body tenses, and a strangled groan leaves him. "Please."

It's the please that does it.

It's the way the word falls from your lips so softly, so desperately, that has him snapping his hips forward. A choked moan spills from his lips as he pushes deeper, and he can't stop himself, his entire body trembling with the effort of holding himself back.

You're so warm and tight, and it's all he can do to keep still, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. He can feel your body adjusting to his size, can feel your muscles clenching around him, and he grits his teeth, his nails digging into the soft skin of your thigh as he hitches it around his waist.

"Fucking hell," he breathes, and he feels you squeeze around him, your back arching.

"Maker, you're big," you mumble, and Thorn's lips curl into a smirk, his hand moving to cup the back of your knee. 

"Told you.”

You roll your eyes, and he chuckles, kissing along the line of your jaw as he pushes your leg up higher.

"Just relax," he whispers against the column of your throat. "You can take it."

He hears a muffled noise come from your throat, and then suddenly he's buried inside of you.

You both groan, the sound filling the room, and Thorn's hand tightens, his hips grinding against yours. He keeps the pace slow and steady, not wanting to overwhelm you, but soon, you're pushing back against him, a soft whimper falling from your lips.

The noise sends a shiver down his spine, and he can't stop himself. He starts to move faster, pulling out farther, his mouth hot on your throat.

"Look at you, taking me so well," he purrs, and he sees the way your body reacts, the way your legs wrap around his waist, urging him deeper. "Like you were made for me."

Your hand grips the nape of his neck, and a sharp hiss escapes him as your nails bite into his skin. His hips snap forward, the head of his cock rubbing against the spot deep inside of you, and you let out a low cry, a strangled sob escaping you.

He watches, enraptured, as the last of the tension melts away, and then you're wrapping yourself around him, your nails digging into his shoulders, your legs tightening around his waist, and he loses himself.

You're so tight, so warm, so perfect, and Thorn can't believe it's taken him this long to get his hands on you. The feeling of you squeezing around him, the sounds spilling from your lips, are more than enough to drive him crazy, but there's something about the way you're looking at him that makes him ache. There's so much warmth and trust in your eyes and he can't help but think that it's for him. Just him.

"Fuck," he breathes, and his hips start to rock faster, harder, his lips crashing into yours. "You feel so fucking good, sweetheart."

He's always prided himself on his self control, on his ability to stay calm and rational, but you're turning everything upside down. All he can think about is you, all he wants is you. He doesn't want to stop, doesn't want to slow down, doesn't want to be anywhere else.

"Fuck, Thorn, yes, yes, yes, yes," you chant with each thrust. His hips speed up, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room, and his fingers dig into your hips, the mattress squeaking beneath the two of you. Your eyes are closed, your head thrown back, and Thorn can't stop staring at you.

He's close. So close.

"Say my name again," he growls, his tongue tracing a path along the line of your throat.

"Thorn," you moan, and he feels his heart clench, his lips curling.

He's never heard anything sweeter.

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, your hands gripping his hair, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his mouth latching onto the soft skin.

"Are you gonna come for me, sweetheart?" he breathes, and your legs tighten around his waist, a loud cry escaping you. "I want to hear you scream my name. Come for me, let me hear how good I'm making you feel."

A sharp cry falls from your lips, and Thorn's pace falters. He's so close, so fucking close, and he's desperate to hear you say his name. It's all he can think about, all he wants to hear.

"You're not going to let me hear the end of this, are you?" you mumble with a breathless laugh. Your lips curl into a smirk, and Thorn laughs too.

"Not a chance."

He kisses you again, and then his hands slide down the length of your thighs, gripping your knees and pushing them apart. His hips snap forward, his cock bottoming out inside of you. You let out a surprised squeak, and then he's pulling out almost all the way before slamming back into you.

“Oh, fuck, Thorn!" you scream, and his lips curl into a smug grin, his chest puffing up with pride.

He's never been one to gloat, but right now, he can't help it. He's not just satisfied.

He's fucking elated.

"That's what I wanted to hear," he growls, his voice thick with lust, and then he's pushing in deep once more. His hand drops between the two of you, his fingers finding your clit. Your back arches under his touch, and your hands moving to grip his biceps, your nails digging into the taut muscle. He lets out a low groan, his hips speeding up, and his gaze travels down your body, his eyes fixing on the spot where the two of you are connected.

He's not sure what it is about it, but the sight of his cock buried inside you, the way the head of his cock is sliding in and out of your body, is pushing him closer and closer to the edge. He doesn't want to come first, but seeing you stretched open, seeing how deep he's able to go, is making it hard to hold back.

He wants to feel it. Wants to see your body tightening around him, wants to see you come undone.

And when he rubs his thumb against your clit, his other hand moving to your breast and his mouth latching onto the column of your throat, you give him exactly what he wants.

"Fuck, Thorn!"

The words spill from your lips as you come, and Thorn groans, forcing himself to keep his eyes open. Your cunt is squeezing around him, and it's too much. He can’t move, can barely breathe, can barely think.

He manages to hold out for a few seconds, his eyes flickering between the place where the two of you are connected, your release spilling around his cock, and your face, your eyes wide, your lips parted.

Then, with a sharp cry, he falls over the edge, and everything goes white as he spills inside you. He hears you gasp, feels your arms wrap around him, and his own arms come up to wrap around your waist. His head drops down, his forehead pressing against the skin of your neck, and he moans, his hips jerking forward as the last of his release spurts from his cock.

It's intense.

His mind is spinning, his head swimming. His whole body is tingling, and his breath is coming in short, ragged pants.

He doesn't know how long he stays there, buried inside you, his breathing slowly returning to normal, but eventually, he manages to push himself up onto his elbows, his eyes locking with yours.

"Hi," you say, and Thorn smiles, leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to the tip of your nose.

"Hi," he mumbles, and then his gaze drifts to the mess he's made, and his cheeks burn. "Sorry about that. I should have asked. Or pulled out. I wasn't thinking."

"Don't apologize," you tell him, your hand cupping his cheek. "I wasn't either. And I didn't expect you to. It's fine."

"Okay," he says, and then he smiles, his gaze drifting over your face, the flush on your cheeks, the way your hair is fanned out beneath you. "Are you okay? Are you sore?"

"Not too bad," you say with a soft smile. Thorn can't help but grin wider, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the curve of your neck.

"Good," he hums, and then he pulls out of you, his cock falling limply against his thigh. He's still half hard, and he can feel his pulse pounding, his skin heating up, the urge to sink into you again already starting to rise. His hips rock forward, his cock dragging through the mess he's made, and he bites back a groan.

"Do you need anything?" Thorn asks as his thumb strokes the smooth skin of your stomach, his gaze fixed on yours. "A glass of water? A bath? Food? Anything?"

"I'm fine, Thorn," you assure him, and he smiles, leaning down and kissing you again.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," you say, laughing softly. “How about you?"

"I'm perfect," he replies. It’s true. He can't remember the last time he's felt this good. His body is loose and relaxed, his mind blissfully empty. He doesn't think he's ever been this happy.

"Perfect?" you echo with a laugh. "You seem awfully sure of yourself."

"Well, I just fucked the hottest, most brilliant, and definitely the sexiest senator in the entire galaxy," he says, his hands skimming up your sides, his fingers tracing patterns over the swell of your breasts. "So yeah. I'm pretty sure I'm perfect."

"Smooth," you tell him. "That was smooth. How did I not notice that before?"

"I guess you've just never paid attention," he says lightly, and you chuckle, shaking your head.

"Oh, I was paying attention," you murmur, and Thorn grins, his gaze locked on yours. The words send a shiver down his spine, and he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. He feels the way you melt against him, and his cock twitches, the muscles of his abdomen flexing.

He can't believe how easy this is. He's never imagined it would be like this, not with you. He's spent months thinking about it, dreaming about what it would be like, wondering what you'd say, what you'd do. He's thought about everything. But he's never imagined that it would be this effortless. That the two of you would click this quickly. That it would feel this natural.

But then again, the two of you have been dancing around each other for a long time, and maybe it shouldn't be surprising. Maybe this is how it's supposed to be.

Thorn dips his head, his lips trailing down your jaw, his tongue darting out and tracing a path down the line of your throat. He hears you sigh, and his lips curl into a smirk, his teeth scraping against the smooth skin.

“Are you tired?” he asks as he presses a soft kiss to the hollow of your throat.

"No," you reply with a soft chuckle. “You?”

“Not even a little bit," he murmurs. Your hand reaches out, stroking the side of his face, and he turns his head, pressing a kiss to your palm.

You grin, and Thorn feels his heart flutter.

"Good," you say, and then he's being rolled over. You straddle his lap, a mischievous look on your face as your eyes lock with his. Thorn's breath catches in his throat. "Now, Commander, I believe you mentioned having an open schedule? I was hoping we could discuss the terms of my proposal."

His lips curl into a grin. "I'm listening."

Thorn isn’t really a fan of parties.

They tend to be loud, and crowded, and full of people who have nothing better to do than get drunk and gossip.

He's not much of a drinker, and his social life consists mostly of spending time with the other Commanders. And while he has no problem talking to strangers, he finds the political aspect of these kinds of gatherings tedious, and the constant stream of politicians makes him a bit uncomfortable. He’s wearing his dress uniform, which is tight and stuffy, and his boots are polished to a mirror finish, and the idea of having to spend the rest of the night standing around, making small talk with people he doesn't really care about is the last thing he wants to do.

But, for you, he's willing to make an exception.

"Senator," he greets you with a nod, his hands clasped behind his back. You come to a stop in front of him and offer him a warm smile, inclining your head.

"Commander."

"You look lovely," he murmurs, and he doesn't miss the way your cheeks turn pink.

"Thank you," you say, your lips curling into a smirk. "So do you."

He chuckles, his eyes still roaming over your body.

The dress you're wearing is beautiful. It's a deep red, the fabric shimmering in the light, and he knows that the color matches his armor perfectly. It hugs your figure in all the right places, the neckline dipping down to reveal the smooth skin of your chest, and he can't help but imagine how good the fabric will look pooled on the floor.

He's not even trying to be subtle anymore.

He's not ashamed.

The two of you have spent the past three months getting to know each other. You've gone out for drinks, spent hours in your office and his, and nights holed up in your apartment. You've gone to dinner, taken walks through the gardens, and watched countless holofilms.

He's met your friends, introduced you to the other Commanders, and he's had more sex in the past three months than he's had in the entirety of his life.

He's happier than he's ever been, and he doesn't care who knows it.

"I hope you've been enjoying yourself," you say, and Thorn smirks, unable to tear his eyes away from the exposed skin.

"Well, Senator, I've been having a wonderful time," he murmurs, and he sees your eyes darken as his gaze flicks back up, a shiver running through you. "And it just keeps getting better and better."

"Commander," you say softly, a smile curling at the corner of your mouth. "This is a public event. We're supposed to be acting like professionals. And here you are, being so inappropriate."

"Ah, Senator," he says with a grin, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. "There's nothing professional about the way I want to bend you over the nearest flat surface and fuck you senseless."

Your cheeks flush as you freeze, your lips parting, and Thorn’s smirk widens against your hand.

He's come to realize that, as much as you enjoy the flirting and teasing, the part that gets you going the most is when he's bold. When he's not afraid to tell you what he wants, not afraid to take what he wants. When he tells you how badly he needs to taste you, when he shows you just how much he craves you, the effect it has on you is immediate, and it's something he's grown very fond of.

You're usually so collected, so poised. The idea that he can make you melt like this, can break through the polished exterior and see the woman underneath, the woman that only he gets to see, is a heady feeling.

And Thorn can't get enough.

"Careful, Commander," you chide him, but there's no heat behind it. 

You both know the rules. As much as the two of you may enjoy pushing the limits, neither of you are willing to compromise your professionalism, and neither of you are willing to put the other at risk. You have a reputation to uphold, and while it's not exactly illegal for the two of you to be together, it would be frowned upon, and it would be easy for the press to twist the story and create a scandal.

So the rules are simple.

When it's business, it's business. You're Senator, he's Commander, and you keep the lines drawn. You don't touch, don't flirt, don't do anything that would raise eyebrows or make people suspicious. The only people who know about the two of you are your friends and the other Commanders, and Thorn is confident that they can keep their mouths shut. Even if Fox had nearly passed out from shock when he'd found out.

As soon as the work is done, though, all bets are off. As soon as the two of you are alone, he doesn't hold back. And neither do you.

And, after three months, the lines have become blurred. The distinction between personal and professional is starting to fade. It's becoming more and more difficult to keep things strictly business. But the two of you manage.

For now.

"Senator," he says with a smirk. "I'm always careful."

Your gaze travels over him, a small smile curling at the corners of your lips, and Thorn feels a thrill run through him. There's a spark in your eyes, a heat that's simmering beneath the surface. He knows what you're thinking, and he can't blame you.

The two of you are alone. Well, as alone as you can be, considering there are hundreds of people milling around. But no one is paying attention, and Thorn can't resist the urge.

His hand turns to lace his fingers with yours, his grip firm. He doesn't move, doesn't take his eyes off you. He sees your cheeks flush, and your eyes widen.

"Senator," he says softly. You glance around, your gaze shifting from side to side. There's no one close enough to notice, and your lips curl into a smile, your fingers squeezing his.

"Commander," you reply. He squeezes your hand back, his eyes roaming over your face.

"Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?"

Your blush deepens, your eyes darting down, and you laugh. "You have, actually." 

He hums, a low sound that rumbles in the back of his throat. His thumb strokes over the back of your hand, his gaze moving over the room. No one's looking, no one's paying attention. He doesn't have to worry about the others finding out.

"And have I mentioned how much I love the way you look in red?"

"Only a few times," you say with a grin. His lips twitch into a smile, and he steps forward, tightening his grip.

"Well, I do."

You laugh, and he feels a rush of affection surge through him. He's always loved the way you laugh, the way your whole face lights up. You have a great sense of humor, and Thorn finds himself laughing more and more, a result of your wit, and his growing fondness for you.

It's not just the sex.

Although the sex is definitely a huge part of it.

He loves talking to you, loves spending time with you. Loves seeing the way your face lights up when he walks in, the way you look at him when he kisses you, the way your eyes narrow when you're working. He loves the way you tease him, the way you push his buttons. The way you challenge him. The way you make him laugh.

He doesn't know how he's managed to find someone who makes him feel like this. But he's not about to complain. There isn’t a day that goes by where he isn’t grateful for the chance that brought the two of you together, and for the fact that he got his head out of his ass long enough to pursue it.

He doesn't think he's ever been this happy. And he can't imagine that feeling fading anytime soon.

"Thorn," you say softly, and his eyes lock with yours. "It's been three months. How are you still making me feel like this?"

He chuckles, a wry smile curling at the corner of his mouth. "I could ask the same thing about you."

"Yeah?" you ask.

"Yeah," he says with a nod. He glances around the room once more before he leans in and presses a soft kiss to the top of your head. He sees you freeze, your eyes going wide, and his lips curl into a smile. 

"You know," he whispers, his breath brushing against the shell of your ear, "there are quite a few empty rooms in this building."

You shiver, your teeth catching your bottom lip, and he chuckles. "And what are you proposing, Commander?"

His grip tightens on your hand, and he feels your fingers dig into his palm. His lips brush against the skin behind your ear, and a soft whimper leaves your mouth.

"A very thorough and detailed demonstration of just how much I appreciate that color on you," he murmurs. He takes a moment to admire the blush coloring your cheeks. "If you're interested."

"Oh, I am," you say, your voice trembling slightly. Your eyes flick down to his mouth, and then back up to meet his. "Are you sure you're willing to risk it?"

"Sweetheart," he murmurs, a smile curving his lips, and then he lets go of your hand, his palm brushing down the length of your arm. "I'm always willing to risk it for you."

Your eyes narrow, a wicked smirk twisting at the corner of your mouth, and you turn and look over your shoulder. Thorn raises an eyebrow.

"Then you won’t mind dancing with me first," you say lightly.

Thorn freezes. His heart stutters. His eyes snap open.

"What?"

"Dancing," you say simply. "It's a pretty basic concept. Two people move in sync to music. Have you heard of it?"

“I’m familiar with the concept," he replies dryly. “I'm just not sure why you want to do it. Especially here."

"We're at a party, Thorn," you say with a grin. "It's what people do."

"But it's not what we do," he points out. He's not a dancer. In fact, he's never danced before. He has no idea what to do, no idea where to put his hands, or how to move. And the idea of doing it in front of all these people when there’s so much at stake is making him uncomfortable. "Why can't we just go somewhere private?"

"Because I'm having fun," you say with a shrug. Your expression is neutral, and there's a glint in your eye, and Thorn realizes that you're trying to mess with him. That you're pushing his buttons.

He narrows his eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Oh, I see. You're playing games."

“Me? Play games? Never."

He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. He should have seen this coming. He should have known that you would push the envelope. He's spent the past three months testing the boundaries, and he can't fault you for returning the favor.

Besides, there's something about the way you're smirking up at him, the challenge shining in your eyes, that makes him want to prove himself. Makes him want to show you just how bold he can be.

“You’re serious?” he asks. You nod, a smile curving your lips.

"Absolutely."

Thorn sighs. His heart pounds, his pulse racing, and he runs a hand through his hair, his eyes flicking to the crowd. He can't believe he's actually considering it. Can't believe that he's seriously contemplating doing something so reckless, something so stupid. Something so completely insane. He can’t believe you’re asking him to dance in the middle of a crowded ballroom as if there aren’t hundreds of eyes watching, as if people aren't constantly talking and judging.

He can't believe he's even thinking about it.

But then again, maybe he should.

Maybe this is what the two of you need. Maybe this is the best way to finally make the lines between personal and professional disappear. Maybe it's the best way to prove that he's serious. That he's in this. That you're more important to him than any of it.

It's a risk. A big risk.

“You know, Commander," you say, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his cheek, and his heart flutters, "you don’t have to do it if you don't want to."

He swallows, his throat tightening, and his eyes meet yours.

Your gaze is warm, and soft, and full of affection. And for a moment, Thorn is overwhelmed.

This is it.

This is the moment.

He can see the emotion written across your face, can feel the intensity of your gaze, and he can't help the wave of love that surges through him. He can't hold back. Not anymore. Not now. Not after everything.

His heart beats faster, his stomach knotting. He knows he should think about this, should take his time, should consider his next move.

But he can't.

It's now or never.

Thorn’s lips curl into a smile, and he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. It's short, and sweet, and chaste, but it's the first time the two of you have kissed in public. The first time the two of you have let anyone see just how close the two of you are.

His lips brush against yours, and then he pulls away, his eyes searching your face.

"No," he says slowly. "I want to. I really, really want to."

He takes a deep breath, his gaze sweeping over the room. He sees the people milling about, the senators, the delegates, the dignitaries, and he can't help but smirk. It's like a challenge, and he can't resist.

"Just promise me you'll tell me if I step on your feet," he says lightly. You grin, a spark of mischief flashing in your eyes, and then his hand is taking yours, pulling you towards the dance floor

He feels the eyes of the crowd following him as he leads you through the room. He knows that they're wondering what's going on. Why one of the clone Commanders is escorting a senator onto the dance floor. Why he's smiling. Why you're laughing. He knows they're wondering why the two of you are standing so close.

But he doesn't care.

All he cares about is the way you're looking at him.

"Thorn," you murmur, and his grip tightens on your waist, his free hand grasping yours. He checks to make sure he’s got it right, and then his eyes meet yours, his heart hammering against his chest. "You don't have to do this. You can change your mind."

"I know," he says, a smile curling at the corner of his mouth. "I don't want to."

"Okay," you whisper, a soft smile gracing your lips.

"Hey," he says softly, and you look up at him, your gaze locking with his. "I love you."

Your eyes widen, your breath catching in your throat, and for a moment, Thorn panics. Maybe he's gone too far. Maybe he's moved too fast. Maybe you weren't ready to hear it.

But then your smile widens, a light chuckle leaving your mouth, and you lean up, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his jaw. "I love you too."

His chest tightens, and he laughs, his forehead dropping down to press against yours. He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath, and then the two of you begin to move.

You're graceful as always, and he's pleased to discover that, while he may not be a dancer, he's not terrible. And while the music is loud, and the room is full, it's almost like the two of you are the only ones there.

The world falls away. The lights dim. The crowd disappears. It's just the two of you, holding each other, swaying in time to the music.

Thorn looks down at you, a soft smile on his lips, and he leans in, his mouth brushing against yours. Your lips part under his touch, and his tongue darts out, teasing, tasting, and then he pulls away.

"We should do this more often," you murmur. He smiles, his nose brushing against yours.

"You have a habit of making me do things I wouldn't normally do.”

You chuckle. "It's a gift."

"I think it's more than that," he says, and you grin.

"What do you mean?"

"I think," he says, his thumb stroking along your waist, "that you're just so irresistible that I can't help myself."

Your gaze drifts to his mouth, your tongue darting out and running over your bottom lip, and Thorn smirks.

"I think that might be the case for both of us," you say with a smirk. Thorn laughs, shaking his head.

"Senator, are you saying that you can't help yourself around me?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying."

"Well then," he murmurs, his hand squeezing yours, and then he leans down, his lips brushing against your ear, "we should probably find one of those empty rooms and make good on my proposal."

You laugh, a low, sultry sound, and Thorn feels his blood heating, his skin tingling. His fingers tighten on your waist, and his hips press against yours.

"I think that's an excellent idea, Commander."

His lips brush against the skin just below your ear, and then he pulls back, a smile curling at the corners of his mouth. "Let's go, Senator."

The two of you move off the dance floor, heading towards the back of the room, and Thorn glances over his shoulder.

There are eyes watching, whispers spreading, and he knows that, come morning, the two of you are going to be the talk of the city. He's going to be fielding calls from his fellow Commanders and the Chancellor, and there's going to be a mountain of paperwork and questions and interviews. There's going to be a media circus, and he knows that the next few weeks are going to be a nightmare.

But for once, he doesn't care.

Because he loves you, and you love him, and that's all that matters.

Taglist: @baddest-batchers @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @bruh-myguy-what @qvnthesia

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[lyssasdrafts]

who’s the cute guy with the shadows and the large bat wings like

[seagull-scribbles]

And you think that makes you unique?

[glassedplanets]

Can you do it, Drifter? Can you make the Man with the Golden Gun the villain in the eyes of those who would tempt the Dark?

redraw!

[wantonlywindswept]

Definitely True Facts About Commander Vertex #1

He repels ghosts.

The fourth bed in the Guard commanders' bunkroom was haunted. 

Thorn scoffed at the idea, and Stone hummed with tolerant indulgence when it was brought up, but Thire knew they both agreed.

There was something unsettling about it: it was all neat lines and tucked corners and entirely devoid of life. And while that made sense--no one had ever used it--it still gave off a feeling of emptiness, like there was supposed to be someone or something there when there wasn't.

Thorn had tried sleeping in it just to prove Thire wrong, but he'd only managed a few nights before copping out and saying he just didn't like the bed, even though they were all the same standard-issue bunks. The fourth bed might even be nicer than the others; the mattress and pillows were still a little fluffy from having not been slept on.

Stone never tried, but Stone had a relationship with his own bed that bordered on worshipful; he was known to threaten violence toward people who even dared to try to sit on it. There was no way he would sleep on a bed that wasn't his.

Thire, of course, was too smart to even go near the fourth bunk.

But that was difficult, because the bed was the closest to the door--making it doubly cursed--and any time Thire walked too close he felt like he was about to be smacked by some ghostly hand for the presumption. Whatever was haunting it demanded peace and quiet, and even Thorn and Stone seemed to subconsciously try not to jostle the bed while passing by. 

They didn't have to believe in the curse for it to be true.

Thire was just about to fall asleep--they were allotted a whole eight hours now! just for sleeping!--when the door to the bunkroom opened. He squinted peevishly at Thorn, who flipped on the lights, and squinted slightly-less-peevishly at Commander Vertex, who followed him in. 

"Why," Thire moaned.

"You weren't even asleep yet," Thorn said without an ounce of sympathy. He turned to Vertex. "We have an extra bunk in here if you want, but we're allowed to stay in the GAR barracks now if you want somewhere cushier."

Vertex shrugged easily.

"I don't mind. Less of a commute from here."

He turned to the sole empty bed--the haunted empty bed--and Thire sat up sharply in alarm, opening his mouth to warn him--

Thorn ruthlessly shoved his face back down into the mattress.

"If you say anything about the stupid ghost," he hissed, "I am going to smother you with a pillow."

Thire's complaints were muffled into the bedding, and he could only watch, helpless, as Vertex dropped his bag on the bunk and sat down next to it.

And the bed...went back to being a bed. Nothing out of the ordinary, no sense of something missing; no gaping emptiness that seemed to permeate that corner of the room. The wrongness was just gone, chased away by Commander Vertex simply from him being there. 

Thire smacked Thorn in the head a few times until he let go, and shoved him away so he could sit up and gape as Vertex started unpacking his belongings. Even when someone just sat on the bed in the past, it still felt like they were doing something illicit, like they didn't belong.

Vertex fit in the space like it was made for him.

Vertex fit in the space like he had just made it his own.

Vertex could repel ghosts without even trying.

They never had to worry about the haunted bed again.

"The curse is lifted," Thire breathed reverently.

Next to him, Thorn growled and lunged for a pillow.

---

prev parts: one | two

[loidbriarforger]

WE WERE SO CLOSE 🤬🤬🤬 ENDO YOU COWARD

[nym-wibbly]

In BOT did Rumbelle get around to oral sex?

They did! Rumple was down there like a shot once he believed Belle was into him rather than just tolerating him. Took a lot longer for him to work up the nerve to ask her to do him. I'm sure she'd have thought of it by herself a lot earlier if he hadn't kept her so thoroughly... distracted...

Poor Rumple. Always his own worst enemy.

[wisyhana]

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately

These past months have been, I don't want to say, rough, but I had to confront too many issues I have to deal with constantly. Some of those issues have to do with social media and fandoms.

Attention has become one of the most delicious traps. Being more known and people wanting to talk to me—all of that is amazing, and I appreciate it to no end—but I noticed that I'm not made for that. It's not that I don't like people; I unconsciously make it a big deal when it's just a simple interaction. It takes a big bite of me, and I start getting concerned about those around me. I can't stop thinking about how to fix things and take control over stuff I have no clue or power over.

Interactions in fandoms are some of the weirdest to me. I don't enjoy how people think, all those anti-pro shipping, all those odd names and tags, caring too much about what others will think of my opinion, and how people get so personal about ANYTHING. I'm not made for that. I don't want to care for these things, and the more I interact with the fandoms, the more I get influenced by them. And it makes me anxious, extremely anxious.

I have to stop myself.

The attention from others is excellent, but I keep ignoring my only and most important fan: me.

I need to feel fulfilled and complete with my own contempt. I can't keep looking for someone else to need me.

For that, I'll make some decisions, and that is starting to take a step back. I'll only show up on social media to share my art and recent works. I'll have to stop some interactions for my own sake, so notifications will be turned off.

I don't want to act like I'll disappear or not care for people anymore. That's my big issue, I care way too much. And it pains me; it makes me feel guilty that I'll practically ignore some people just because I need my space.

But I'm tired of running to people and asking if they need my help. I don't need to be needed; I need to heal.

This is not a goodbye post; it's simply the artist in me who wants to keep enjoying art and working for others while I enjoy my life as the person I am. Social media is my workplace, so I have to find a place where I can be a simple person.

So, if you ever want to talk to me, to the Wisydora who loves Yugi and Gandora, I'll be on Discord. My replies might take some time and take me forever, but please remember it's nothing against you; I'm simply healing.

And if I owe you something, PLEASE LET ME KNOW. My memory has been awful, and I keep forgetting important stuff.

Love y'all, I always do!

[foursaints]

what is your opinion on barty and evan using nicknames or pet names? rosie? bee? bat? ev? evs? babe? love? what are they calling each other in your mind?????

im thinking of one of nabokov's letters to vera, where he says: "You can be bruised by an ugly diminutive — because you are so absolutely resonant — like seawater, my lovely"

that's how i see most rosekiller nicknames.... "rosie" is the undefeated classic, and i like it for being a little old-fashioned? barty uses nicknames to harangue/be annoying ("babe" "blondie"), but i think the ones he uses SINCERELY are very different. the way barty uses pet-names is fretful & uncharacteristically sweet.. "petal" is good. "little one" is something that slips out in private ("have you eaten, little one?")

evan isn't a nickname person to me. the transition from "crouch" -> "barty" is already a big enough deal. anything cloying grates on him. but i picture terms of endearment slipping out of him when he's tired or really worked up. i picture him using one (sweetheart? pet?) when tugging at barty's sleeve, frowning & quietly asking him for something (the something is: exhuming a diseased corpse from nearby gravesite) 

[yuushin7]

Day 03: First meet; Day 17: Sharing bed OR "How it started" vs…. How they'll end up someday 😅 They're getting there! Just very slowly Day 03 could also double as alternate for Day 16: Red Thread…. Which gives me idea that I could combine 2 days if I end up lagging behind too much 🤔especially since not all prompts spark inspiration for me 😅

[izzystizzys]

Fox tags along on a smuggling bust one (1) time and subsequently wishes he’d never been decanted.

Well, he’s arrested the perp a lot more than just one time, actually, but that very first tackle into a chokehold and electrocuffs more than sufficed to turn the fates against him - the fates, and Cody, the insufferable twat. They’re not actually even batchmates, the lot of them, and going by numbers Fox was decanted long before them (long as in seconds or minutes, no one actually knows), but Seventeen put them all in a training room together and then stupid kriffing Kote looked him up and down, nodded, and hasn’t stopped calling him vod’ika since.

“Why is one of the Republic’s most wanted criminals asking to speak to you, vod’ika?”, Cody asks, without any preamble, almost making Fox cut the holocall on principle. He would, if General Kenobi wasn’t right there next to the little shit. “And why do I not like his tone?”

Fox has to resist the urge to close his eyes and scream, making do with a deep sigh instead. Force curse the day Cody decided to adopt-nap him, and Wolffe following suit immediately. “Weequay, shifty eyes, stupid fucking pirate bandana?”

Cody’s eyes narrow suspiciously, and Kenobi’s eyebrows raise simultaneously. It’s more than a little creepy.

Fox rolls his eyes so hard he sees stars. “Tell him he can go space himself, unless he wants me to do it for him. And then tell him that if he sends me fuzzy fucking socks again I might just hunt him down and do it anyways.”

Past the slide of the door, Thorn’s unmistakable cackle reaches Fox. And Cody, going by the narrowing of his eyes. “Don’t tell him that, ori’vod, he’s probably into that”, Thorn calls out, gleefully, and Force Fox really should’ve kept this to himself in the first place.

He would’ve, actually, but the constant stream of strange presents into Guard headquarters is hard to miss. It was Alderaanian chocolates, last week, which Fox pawned off on the Shinies. A box from a store with a blacked out label before that, which he launched out the window with burning ears before Thire could get a closer look at it.

“Actually”, Thorn continues, happily, “I don’t think it matters much if you do tell him anything - it’s not like the Commander has been the most graceful courtée, and that hasn’t done anything to discourage our favorite smuggler.”

“Marshall Commander”, Fox hisses, because he’s a pissy bitch, and then, because all professionalism has gone out the window anyways, “This is why Stone is my favourite.”

Thorn’s wounded gasp is lost over Kenobi’s thoughtful hum, and Cody’s patented I’m-going-to-do-something-incredibly-stupid-and-you-can’t-stop-me glare. “That would explain why we have Hondo Ohnaka accosting our troopers about your flavour preferences concerning fruit candies. But the one asking to speak to you is Cad Bane, Marshall Commander.”

The string of curses Fox lets out at that is loud enough to have Mauler stick his head in the com room to ask if everything is alright, and Thorn roll on the floor with howling laughter.

Force curse the day he ever slapped electrocuffs on Hondo Ohnaka, and double-curse the one he threw Cad Bane to the floor with a scissor leg takedown.