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galactic-academia · 2 years ago

Text

A Good Rub

Rating: E, minors pass your way.

Category: F/M

Fandom: The Mandalorian

Relationship: Cobb Vanth x F!Reader

Tags: Flirting, language, fluff, massage (M receiving), fingering (F receiving), very brief oral sex (M receiving), dirty talk, unprotected PIV (don’t be a fool: wrap your tool)

Words: 5,2K

Summary: Cobb Vanth is the best Marshal Mos Pelgo could have dreamed of, but at the end of the day, he’s still a man and his back is killing him. That, you can take care of (loosely set before the events of TBOBF)

Notes: Alright, believe it or not, but I’ve been working on that for months, so I’m very happy to finally share it. I’m not used to write smut, but I did my best, please be indulgent, also I’m not a native, please, forgive my mistakes. Reader is described as a woman with breasts and female genitalia, but no further descriptions (if somethings escaped to me, please say so and I’ll correct it).

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«Oh, stars! Right there...»

He hadn’t meant to sound like this; needy, hoarse, it had been punched out of his lungs and he was considering himself lucky that this vulnerable sound hadn’t turned into a full moan. Still, he blushed as you immediately complied, pressing hard into the muscles of the Marshal’s lower back, then repeating the exact same move, but with less intensity, and again, softly - almost caressing - before setting on another group of muscles.

It had been your idea, you had started all of this - that he was sure about - but how exactly he had turned lucky enough to end up lying, half naked, in your bed; Cobb Vanth was still processing. Not to mention the fact that you were Hell bent on helping him to relax, thus the massage the Marshal was currently enjoying... A little too much.

Granted, it had been a tough day; Barzan’s flock of banthas having run off the previous night, as many people of Mos Pelgo as there were available land-speeders had tramped the Dunes Sea in search of the contumacious animals all day long. On the evening, Barzan had all his cattle back and secure in a paddock, and Taanti had treated the valiant sand rangers to a round of drinks on the house - even if he had grumbled in his non-existent beard all along.

Of course, Cobb had partaken in the searching mission today; led it, actually, he also had helped Barzan to steer his banthas back where they belonged after roaming the desert for hours, and he went to Taanti’s celebration, for the Weequay would certainly have removed the Marshal’s head from his shoulders if he hadn’t.

It was beginning to be late when Cobb had left the cantina. Quite frankly, there was nothing his heart desired more than just lying down and be unconscious for a few hours, but he still had business to attend.

«AWWww...»

Unfortunately for him, while still being in excellent shape, vigorous and strong as all Hell, the Marshal wasn’t as young as he used to be, as his back just had nastily reminded him.

«Hiya, Marshal.»

Cobb grimaced to himself - of course, you would be the one to catch him during a vulnerable moment - before turning around to face you, all charming, cheeky smiles, and pretend to scratch an itch instead of holding on tight to his crumpling vertebrae. The good sheriff truly couldn’t care less about what people thought of his persona, he hadn’t any time for that kind of bantha shit. But you weren’t «people», and even if he would rather die than admit it out loud, Cobb always jumped on any and all occasions to impress you.

«Good evenin’, my fair lady», Cobb gave it a shot, even if he knew it was useless. Hadn’t you knew him as well as you did, you would have fallen for his act, but you could see right through him - on this point, at least - and knew your beloved Marshal was still upright by sheer stubbornness only.

«May I ask you where you’re heading to on this pleasant evening?»

You also were at Taanti’s, you knew where he was coming from and Cobb was sure you were ready to bid everything you had on the fact that he was not heading home. It was a game the two of you had been playing for far too long, and you were still falling in each other’s traps every single time. Falling for each other.

«I’m on my way to she Sheriff’s Office, where a thing or two are still waitin’ to be taken care of before I can call it a night.» Cobb noticed your arms crossed on your chest and your head tilted in frustration: that was what you were excepting to hear and you weren’t happy about it. «But if there’s anything you need, just say the word, and I’ll be all yours.»

You let a little huff escape by your nose and turned your head to the side, breaking eye contact, but a half smile blossomed on your lips nonetheless. Yeah, putting a smile on your face, he never failed to. Oh, you did bite your lips to try to conceal your growing grin, but in vain. You couldn’t resist the Marshal, he always managed to make you melt. Giving in, you grinned freely and even let yourself go as far as giggling. And there was nothing Cobb liked more than making you go all bashful.

«Indeed, Marshal, there’s something I do need.» You held your hand slightly, inviting Cobb to take it and brush his lips across your knuckles like he sometimes did when he felt brave enough, or when the need to be close to you turned into an ache impossible to soothe.

«Ma’am -», and he did, he did lift your hand and softly, delicately, let the plump of his lips and the tingle of his moustache caress the thin skin - not of your knuckles - but of your fingertips, «- your wishes are my commands.»

«Truly?» Oh he should know better than blindly trusting you when you act all innocent and shy like that. But, what can he say? You’re his weak spot.

«Whatever you want, just name it and I’m your man.»

Too much. He had said too much. It’s the truth, not even disguised as a tease or a silly jab. He would do whatever you want. He would be your man, if you’d let him. And yet, Cobb can’t make himself regret his words, not when these instants, hushed, stolen, whispered in the dark, are more thrilling than anything he has ever experienced.

Never taking your hand out of his, you turned around to go back inside, «Come on in, then Cobb», and he diligently followed you, like he promised he would. The Marshal hadn’t paid attention, when he was outside, that he had almost collapsed under your window and, as you led him to your bedroom, where you left him to go rummage into the adjoining little bathroom, he tried to not mull on that thought.

«So, what’s the problem? Is there a sand spider in there? Somethin’ that needs to be fixed?» Cobb was feeling antsy, he was trying to not invade your privacy, but miserably failing at not noticing the soft, rumpled sheets, appealing to his tired body. The pillows were looking unbearably comfy and he felt a sudden pang of longing at the thought of lying there, entangled with you, his nose buried in the nape of your neck - or in your hair - and just breathing you in... However, a flash of pink got him out of his reverie as soon as he caught it; was it your dressing gown laying there, abandoned, on the bed? Did you... Shed it?

Of course she’s in her sleeping attire, you moron, not everyone needs to be dead on their feet to judge it’s time for some shut eyes, like you do!

«My problem is that you’re literally working yourself to death.» You came out of the bathroom in your night gear only - and this time Cobb didn’t fail to notice it - and gave him a towel. «And since you promised you would do whatever I want, you’re going to lie down and let me give a good rub to your poor back.»

The Marshal should have been ashamed - and he would, had he been in his normal state - but the sight of you had short-circuited his brain. You weren’t wearing anything fancy, but it was light enough to be bearable on this warm night. Ample, to be comfortable, the exact opposite of Cobb’s pants, becoming tighter by the minute, just seeing how much your breasts were now free to gently bounce as you waved in the direction of the bed. «Off with your clothes».

That caught the Marshal’s attention.

«I’m sorry, what?»

All flushed and looking down, you still powered through your embarrassment, «Y-you take off as much cl-clothes as you’re comfortable to and you lie on the bed. I’m... I’m going to give you a massage. If it’s ok with you?»

Cobb wanted to laugh, manically so. You, the plump, young, soft thing, were asking him, the broken, exhausted, middle-aged man, if he were ok with disrobing and lying in your bed so you could touch him? What the Hell are they putting in the Spotchka, these days? But sensing you wouldn’t agree with him on the absolute fuckery of the situation, the Marshal just croacked a «Yeah, darlin’, that’s very ok with me», before starting to blindly remove his bandolier and his blaster. And the bright smile you gave him before going back to the bathroom made him tell to his screaming conscience to go fuck itself.

As you had asked him to, the Marshal got rid of his shirt and his signature red scarf, then his boots and - while he was at it - his socks, because even if he were still trying to convince his traitorous body to calm the fuck down, Cobb was very well aware that there were a few things unsexier than a man in his drawers with his socks still on. To his credit, the good sheriff hadn’t had the intention to take his pants off, not until he truly looked at them. He had quickly showered before going to Taanti’s, but the celebration had been a little wild for some of the villagers and one of them had spilled their drink on Cobb. His shirt has been mostly spared, but his pants had taken it all and they were now sticky and stinking of alcohol. There was no way he was letting that garbage go anywhere near your little nest.

That’s how Cobb Vanth ended up to crawl - mostly naked - in your bed. No big deals, just a nice massage from a friend, nothing to fuss about. If only the rest of his body could get the memo... The Marshal was bitterly chastising himself and grabbing for a pillow to rest his head upon when you finally came back from the bathroom.

«Comfy?», you asked, dropping off some items Cobb hadn’t had time to identify, before crawling on the mattress and settling on the back of Cobb’s thighs.

Certain the Maker was testing him, the Marshal managed to croak a pitiful «Yeah», before he buried his face into the pillow. That proved to be a tactical error when, upon his first breath into the material, your smell flood his nose. Cobb must have grabbed just the one you sleep with; of course he had.

«Alright then,» he heard you mumbling to yourself, «let’s do this.» The Marshal felt you wiggling against his ass and fiddling with the Maker knows what for a few seconds, and the tingle of the material of your loose sleep shirt on his skin was torture already. However, nothing could have prepared him to the feeling of your hands. They were warm and soft, and gliding unexpectedly smoothly over his neck, shoulders and upper back. That alone was very pleasant, and Cobb was almost ready to lose the battle against his body when something cool went dripping onto his back, making him startle a little.

«Sorry, this is just some moisturiser, so your skin won’t be chafed. Is that ok?»

Not trusting his tongue anymore and biting on his lips to contain the groan that was threatening to escape, the Marshal just made a positive noise without lifting his face off the pillow.

Satisfied with the answer, you went back to work, first rubbing with the palm of your hands, before getting your fingers to dig into the knots you found, applying pressure and steadily moving.

«I’m so happy you’re letting me doing this for you», you spoke so quietly, hushedly, as if you were afraid to ruin the moment, or to scare him, «You’re always taking care of us, we’re so blessed to have you Cobb... I hope you know that.»

Hadn’t he been down to his briefs, dizzy with pleasure and with your knees bracketing his hips, the good Marshal would certainly have found a way to evade your praises. He would distract you or simply find a reason to flee. Your kind words made him uncomfortable; he craved them, like he craved your attention and your affection, but once he had them, he didn’t know what to do with himself anymore. But here, trapped under you, with his brain flooded with endorphins... It wasn’t a problem anymore.

«You’re too good to me, sugar, I don’t deserve you.»

«You deserve everything and then some more, Cobb, let me be good to you.»

Somewhere deep inside, the Marshal knew he had put himself in an impossible position. You were there, showering him with soft touches and kindness, and whatever you may think, he was still just a man with an erection pressing into the mattress. Listening to you saying you wanted to be good to him wouldn’t help him to calm down, neither would the fact that you had now decided to give some love to his lower back, each movements of your hands pushing Cobb’s hips into the bed, forcing him to hump the sheets.

Some broken groans started to escape him, the Marshal couldn’t contain them anymore, not when he was growing harder and harder, his drawers damp with precome. Not when you were spurring him on.

«That’s it, here you go, let it all go, I’ve got you. Let it be good for you.»

Cobb was panting, trying his damnest to not squirm, to not lean into your touch and chase the friction your firm mattress provided to his cock, when it happened all at once. He felt your nimble fingers sneaking under the elastic of his underpants to access his lower vertebrae - those which were hurting the most - and kneed, sending a jolt of pleasure and pain up his spine and his hips grinding down against the bed some more.

«Oh, stars! Right there...»

No, Cobb hadn’t meant to sound like this, and he knew he should have asked you to stop, especially when he felt a warm burst of precome shoot from his throbbing shaft only to come dripping down, adding to the sticky mess he had made of his briefs, oozing through the fabric and into your sheets. But it was so good...

Lost into the sensation of your hands working his muscles back into submission, the Marshal unthinkingly grind down more violently and let out a sinful, purring sound... To which you echoed an answering moan.

It had been a tiny sound, a delightfully pathetic little mewl, but it stuck Cobb light lightening. He raised himself on his elbows and turned his head to look at you above his shoulder. There you were, still perched on the back of his legs, all flushed and dishevelled, mortified. Irresistible. One moment you were kneeling on the bed and the next Cobb had flipped you under him and was devouring your mouth like a starved man.

The squeaking noise you made when your back hit the mattress didn’t do anything to deter the Marshal, not when your arms immediately went around his shoulders and neck for you to pull him closer. It made something clench in Cobb’s chest and his hunger for you took the second place behind the absolute delight that flooded him. You wanted this at least as much as he did. You wanted him. The Marshal let his fever morph into something savoring and languid, almost teasing. It made you smile against his lips as you pushed one of your hands into his silver locks and let out a giddy little noise.

His heart threatening to leap out of his chest, Cobb broke the kiss only to set his forehead against yours, his eyes closed.

«You have no idea for how long I have wanted to do this.»

«Do it again, then.»

Your mouth went back to his, even hungrier than before.

«Please Cobb, please...», your breathy little pleas, whimpered between fervent kisses proved to be the Marshal’s undoing. With quick, efficient moves, he unceremoniously threw your clothes to the floor, before starting to cover your body with kisses and roguish little nips that make you squirm under him.

«’Ve got you, baby, don’t you worry. Look at you, all worked up already and I barely touched you...»

Equally playful and amazed, Cobb swiftly swiped his tongue across your nipples and started to leave kitten licks on both of them, making you shudder and moan some more.

«D-Don’t tease! Cobb, d-»

«’M not teasing.» He totally was and hadn’t any intention to stop. When his gaze levelled with your navel, a devilish grin - the one that screamed troubles and that you loved so much - painted itself on his lips, «Just savoring my pretty girl. You’re such a treat, all sweet and soft for me, aren’t ya honey?»

He let his tongue slowly dip in your navel, then retreat back up, leaving some saliva pool in it. Then he repeated the motion, a little faster with every pass of his tongue, until he was fucking his saliva in and out your navel and you were desperately trying to press your tights together and shaking your head from side to side.

«What do you want, sweet girl?» Cobb asked, lifting himself up from your belly to grab your wrists and remove your arms from your face. His bright eyes turned soft upon beholding your own gaze: unfocused and watery, but full of want, «Tell me, baby, tell me and it’s all yours.»

You promptly released your arms from the Marshal’s hold - much faster than he thought you were able to in your state - only to clutch to his neck, smashing your lips back together. It was messy and without any finesse, but your eagerness made something primal and possessive curl into Cobb’s stomach. At last, between sloppy kisses, you managed to slur, «Want you... All of you, like you promised...»

Had he still been a young man, the Marshal would have made a fool of himself, already. Half mad with want, he started to babble into your ear while sliding his fingers under your panties to run them down your legs. «You got me, sweet thing, you got me. I did promise, didn’t I? Wouldn’t dream of breaking my oath, not to you. Open up for me, yeah? You took such great care of me tonight, now it’s my turn...»

His long, thick fingers found your mound, lightly grazing your clit before softly parting your folds while his tongue teased yours in a gentle caress, somewhat placating your desperation, slowing down almost to a halt where you breathed each other in. Then, without any warning, he sank two digits in your soaking heat, swallowing the gasping cry you let out. «So wet, baby, so perfect for me, always...» The twist he added to his move as he eased them out made you shudder, your mouth open in glee. «M’gonna give you everything you want». He pushed his fingers back inside, curling into you, again and again, as your grip on his shoulders became painfully tight. «Gonna ruin you».

You already were ruined, had been since well before he had first touched you, before he had graced you with a quick hug in thanks. But that, Cobb wasn’t aware of. The drawn-out pinning for your Marshal, all the little things you had shared, those secret smiles, those stolen looks, those quick winks and lips almost blood-bitten, collected like sanctified tokens and tucked in a corner of your memory for rainy days, they all came surfacing to be crowned when the rising tension in your lower stomach suddenly snapped. You gushed on Cobb’s fingers with a surprised moan he gladly swallowed, your legs wrapping around him.

When the Marshal finally left your lips for more than a quick, much needed breath, it was for lifting his soaked fingers from your center to curl his tongue around them. You were breathless - he always had had this effect on you, turned you into an anxious, but giddy mess each time he appeared in your line of sight - but not enough to prevent you from rolling him underneath you with a growl. You always were nervous around Cobb Vanth, but in a skittish way, bold and unpredictable, and you were pretty sure that was what kept him always coming back for more.

Eyes wild, your hair starting to look like a nest, you preened under your Marshal’s ravenous gaze. You only let him enough time to steady his hands on your hips before you started your own way down his body. You too - as Cobb discovered with bliss - could kiss and lick and nip and suck. Once again, he was the one to squirm due to your ministrations, but this time, he couldn’t stop his damn mouth to run, «Gonna be the death of me, baby. Always so good to me, so pretty an’ so sweet... Come back here, honey, let me make good on my promise, y-yeah?».

However, by the time he finally shut his mouth, you had reached the hem of his brief and were showering it in butterfly-light kisses. You waited for him to look you dead in the eyes before hooking your thumbs into the elastic and - at last - pulling his length free. You took him in, laid out in the warm, dim glow of your bedside light, glorious, gorgeous. The tough, cocky Marshal, tamed for you and for you only, awaiting your next move. You could have eaten him. Then you looked at his organ, proudly resting against his belly. You muttered an impressed curse and bit your lips, both amazed and a little thrilled, before you made the mistake to look up to Cobb’s face. The bastard was smirking down at you, fully aware of his blessing and truly pleased by your wonder. But then again, even if there was nothing you liked more than pleasing your Marshal, that didn’t mean you couldn’t be a little shit yourself. Still holding his gaze, you let your tongue peaked between your lips and gave a long, thorough lick up his manhood, even going as far as quickly dipping the tip of it into his slit. Cobb throwing his head back and biting his lips to try - and fail - to contain the neediest growl was a very, very satisfying sight to behold; but before you had time to lean back - fully intending to indulge into the writhing man beneath you - he firmly grabbed your hips and manhandled you - a hand coming to pillow your head as you hit the mattress - so he was, once more, on top of you.

«Sweetheart,» he purred, his nose nuzzling your cheek, his thumb barely ghosting over your parted lips, «You can’t imagine how many times I’ve fucked my fist pretendin’ it was this smart, wicked mouth of yours.» You snapped up his finger into your mouth, lightly nipping at it, because the image of this man touching himself to the thought of you was too much to handle. You needed to consume him, in all the ways he would let you. «But right now,» Cobb briefly replaced his thumb with his lips, «I need to have you». There he was, hovering over you, dishevelled, his eyes wild, hard and leaking, dizzy with want, half mad with the imperative need to make you his; and here you were, sprawled on your back,clutching at him with all your limbs to push him closer to you, chasing his lips and whimpering into his mouth, your legs spread around his hips, open and ready and wanting, and still, Cobb forced himself to draw back a little, to look at you and to whisper, «If you will have me?»

He would have stopped. Would you just have told him to, and he would have stepped back, helped you to dress and cuddle with you or - if you so have wanted - just went away and let you be. The decision was yours to take, so you took it; you buried your hands into his hair and led him back to your mouth to murmur against his lips, «Yes, Cobb, I want you, please... Please, fuck me».

Intense. You had thought about the best adjective to describe your Marshal, and there was no word that could make him justice ; but « intense » was the closest thing to it. His life was intense, here, at the far end of everything, where heat, dryness and almost everything that lives do their best to kill you. His work was intense, keeping the bad guys away from Mos Pelgo and making everyone’s problems - big or small - his as well. His wrath was intense, and you know he wouldn’t hesitate to kill in cold blood. His laugh was intense, loud and clear, springing right from his belly and impossible to resist. His gaze was intense, all seeing, even right trough people, but always so, so kind to the ones he had swore to protect. In bed like in every other aspect of his life, Cobb Vanth is intense, to your greatest delight.

It’s a tight fit, even soaked and open from your first orgasm as you are. Your breath hitched as the fat head started to breach your entrance. He’s barely inside, really, still, you scrunched your eyes close, as it would ease the painful pinch away. It didn’t, but Cobb cradling your cheeks in his hands and covering your face in kisses certainly helped, though.

«T’s alright, love, I got you. Just take it easy, yeah?»

Love. You’ve been trying to relax, knowing that, once the dull pain would have faded away, only pure bliss would stay. This term of endearment and the implication it involved, however, it made you clench hard around the few inches already inside you. Cobb’s features contorted before he let his forehead bump against yours, eyes closed and lips parted, «Maker, you’re so kriffing tight,» he hissed, lips blindly seeking yours, «loosen up a bit for me, sugar, or it will end before it had even begun, you feel so damn good...»

Gently, Cobb slipped his arms under your thighs, spreading them some more, drawing his hips back before driving them forward again, slowly, carefully, but deeper than before. Then again. And again. «Gonna make you take more, don’t you worry babygirl, gonna make you take all of it.»

You moaned, aroused beyond belief by the idea of being full of him and then it hit you: it didn’t hurt anymore. You opened your eyes to meet Cobb’s, the beginning of a smile starting to form on your face, but it morphed into a surprised «Oh...» when you felt the grind of his pelvis against you.

Cobb was downright grinning at you, «There you go, sweetheart.» For one moment, you were simply stunned, trying to process that you were, at last, being one with your beloved Marshal; but then he started to draw his hips back, painfully slowly so, before going back the same fashion. Lazy, deep strokes, letting you feel every ridge, every twitch.

«Does that feel good, pretty baby?»

It did; so much that your brain just refused to cooperate anymore, happy to bath in euphoria. Who needed to talk when you could just feel that incredible?

«Answer me», Cobb punctuated his growl with a deeper, harsher thrust, and the loud, unashamed surprised moan that fell from your lips set him on fire. «Mmh, it did feel good, but you like it a little rougher, don’t you, love?»

Your helpless mewl and attempt to bury your face in the crook of his neck gave Cobb all the answers he needed. He shushed you, kissing the side of your forehead, «It’s alright, baby, I’m going to take care of you». And he did, he pounded into you, pushing against something absolutely mind-blowing, hungry for your cries and moans. Ravenous for the pleasure he was giving to you. Each thrust made heat curl into your belly, tension gathering and rising, pushing you toward the edge. It’s going to be a Hell of an orgasm, you can feel it. It’s just there, you can practically taste it.

«You gonna come for me, babygirl?» Cobb murmured in your mouth, just too enamoured with the eagerness you kiss him with to leave it alone, even for just a breath. You nod, feverishly seeking his lips before he starts to speak again, «Come on my cock, sweetheart, let me feel it. Let me feel you».

The tension in your lower belly morphed, once again, in warmth and this is it, pleasure rolled into you as your lower muscles clamped hard several times. Somewhere into your dopamine induced haze, you heard Cobb grunt something sounding like «Oh shit, maker...» just before he fills you, his cock twitching and pulsing heat inside you. As you both tried to pick your breathing up, you let the very tip of your digits run silly patterns up and down Cobb’s shoulders and back. You could feel goosebumps rise in your path, to your delight.

When the Marshal finally lifted his head out of the crook of your neck, the gaze he laid upon you was so tender, so full of adoration that it took your breath away. So you just closed your eyes and brang his forehead to yours, not moving, only letting the feel of him all around you permeate your everything.

«Stay with me?»

You wouldn’t be mad if he couldn’t for any reason, or if he didn’t want to. Heartbroken and sick with anxiety, yes, but not mad. You would try to understand and let him be, you would downplay it as much as you can, you would -

«I don’t intend to go anywhere anytime, soon or not, sweetheart, I promise.» And you swear you felt him blowing out the restless breath caught in his lungs in sync with you. And you kiss him, or maybe he’s the one kissing you. Who cares?

«All well considered...» You know he’s messing with you, the little shit, but you still give him a betrayed glare. «I think I should go to the bathroom in search of a soft cloth to wet with warm water, don’t you?»

Oh, he wants to be like this then... Alright.

«But, Cobb...», you stutter, eyes filled to the brim with fake tears, «You promised...»

Fairplay, the Marshal took on his verbal defeat with an amused snort and a kiss to your forehead before living the bed to join the bathroom, making sure the door stayed open between the two of you.

In the morning, the little party of villagers Cobb had enlisted to help him salvage a moisture extractor that had started to sink into the sand in a farm not far from Mos Pelgo was very surprised to not find their Marshal waiting for them just outside of the cantina as soon as the first of the two suns started to rise upon the horizon, and even more to see him leaving your house, his shirt inside-out and hopping on one foot, busy to try to shove the second one into a recalcitrant boot. And you, dishevelled and wrapped in your gown, laughing on your threshold.

That, you know it would never change: putting a smile on your face, Cobb Vanth would never, ever failed to.

***

Thanks for reading

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#cobb vanth #cobb vanth x reader #cobb vanth x you #timothy olyphant #star wars #the mandalorian #fanfiction

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