#calboba

[bon-sides-sw]

Commission done for @babygirlbridger and @krispyswips A really great scene of their Fic To Our Halcyon Days (E)

If you like my art or want to leave a tip, buy me a Ko-Fi!!

[corvidscreams]

*runs* Cal putting a flower crown on Boba and Boba just having this adorably confused look on his face. *runs faster*

You literally sent this ask over a year ago and I’ve had this in progress since then. Life is hell.

[wyvernsrus]

I love these two so much I need yall to know I want to hold them in my hands because they're so precious

[elizabethhood]

Biology Notes

A minute by minute summary of my thoughts during bio class.

Countdown begin.

This ain’t gonna be fun.

Only two min in.

She’s late.

How am I already bored?

That guy’s late.

Cal/Boba handcuffed together, working as allies?

Melidaan joins Mandalorian Empire?

I’m bored.

Clones’ first time hearing music

Clones eating real food for the first time?

Clones tour temple? (Where they hear music/eat real food for first time?)

I was right. This isn’t fun.

Soulmate AU for Charles/Erik?

Erik’s POV for first meeting?

Immediate aftermath of said first meeting?

Erik and Raven visit after Cuba?

They meet babies Kurt, Warren, Jean, maybe Scott.

They miss the sign, don’t realize it’s a school? 

‘Did Charles have kids?’ moment, especially after realizing Jean’s a telepath?

Jean recognizes them from memories? All recognize them from photos and/or stories?

All the guilt when Erik sees Charles.

Cells. The powerhouse of, mitochondria is.

Phospholipid. Now there’s a word to make people flip a Scrabble board with.

Nigh impossible, you’d need lipid down first, then add phospho-, but a girl can dream.

Kurt and Warren would be adorable as childhood friends

That guy’s playing Wordle.

That guy is really, really, really bad at Wordle.

People realizing how insanely dangerous Charles is?

Erik realizing how lucky humanity is for Charles’ morality? and being very attracted to that?

Quiz on Friday, 45-50 questions, 50 points. Study slides.

Erik getting attacked by another telepath, Charles going territorial, has other telepath screaming/crying on floor, living worst nightmares, clutching head and begging for it to end, while Charles is gently comforting/fussing over Erik?

That girl is texting.

Is that guy watching Gravity Falls? Great taste.

Aw, why’d you turn the screen that way? Now I can’t see it.

Quinlan switching out Fox’s caf with decaf, letting him fall asleep, tucking him into bed?

While Fox’s asleep, using Shadow Training (TM) to do paper work? (Forgery/Ability to have multiple styli (plural of stylus) filling out multiple data pads simultaneously? (Force use?)

Quinlan leaving five min before Fox wakes up. Fox finding his paper pretty much done, crying because he’s still out of it and doesn’t want to wake up?

Quinlan making this a habit when he’s on Coruscant? Stone finding out, not telling? Fox scared if he talks about it, it’ll go away? Unable to believe it’s real?

That girl’s doing a crossword. Badly.

The answer is Lobelia. “She stole Bilbo’s spoons” is Lobelia Sackville-Baggins. 

Where in Middle-Earth did she get Tauriel from? Even if she hadn’t been added solely for the purpose of paying less in royalties to Tolkien’s family, even if she had existed in the book, when in the name of all that is precious and beautiful, would she have stolen Bilbo’s spoons?

I might kill myself. This is why I shouldn’t have sat in the back row.

Only 6 min left. Heh. +60, Execute Order. I know I’m not funny.

So close, yet so far. So unbearably bored.

Is this what stream-of-consciousness notebooks look like?

I have a very odd stream of consciousness.

We get to leave early? Hallelujah!!

Goodbye!

[cabezadeperro]

meetcute.

[lamaenthel]

Winner Takes All

[read on a03]

"It's a dangerous thing, poking your nose in other people's business." Boba sauntered forward slowly—dick first, like always—until he was only a foot away. He tilted Cal's chin up with the tip of his silver blaster. "You can get hurt asking the wrong person that kind of question, cuntling." And just like that, Cal was as hard as a karking rock. He flicked his eyes down with a smirk; so was Boba, he'd bet his saberstaff on it. He licked his dry lips. "Are you gonna hurt me?" Boba chuckled, dark and wicked. "Would you like me to?"

When Cal offers to help out an old friend of Greez get her ship back in a high stakes sabacc game, the last person he expected to show up joins the game and raises the stakes.

Pairing: Boba Fett/Cal Kestis

Wordcount: 10,093

Rating: Explicit, Minors DNI

Warnings: Public Sex, Harassment, Discussion of sex as payment, humiliation/degradation (consensual) (it's their thing)

The glittering facade of the capital city of Cantonica was like a membrane barely holding back a tidal wave of shit; Cal couldn't even take his gloves off, every surface of the gambler's haven stained with a psychometric echo of someone losing their life savings, the deed to their home, their last chance at buying their child from the bonds of slavery. And to think, all he could ever think about as a kid was how cool it would be to see the racing fathiers of Canto Bight up close.

"You are sure I don't look ridiculous?" The florescent lights of the elevator made the light green tint of Merrin's cheeks look striking as she smoothed the front of her new black dress down with a nervous hand. It was short and silky and clung to every curve, one silver shoulder left bare. Her golden talisman was striking and looked like an expensive statement piece rather than a handcrafted artifact of a Dathomiri Nightsister. She had her silver hair hanging loose around her face; it made her look younger.

"You look beautiful," Cal assured her, and he meant it. Besides the clothing, she was practically glowing. He could tell she was genuinely having fun; the last thing he'd expected was for a Nightsister to get excited about playing dress-up at a high-end hotel casino, but she never failed to surprise him. "If anyone looks ridiculous, it's me in this thing." He tugged at the lapels of his Chandrilan kimono. It was the cheapest thing that met the dress code for the casino floor that the hotel had available for purchase. He'd slicked his hair back—it was in the most annoying stage of growing out and poofed out stupidly from the sides of his head in the seaside air, giving him no other option—and combined with the scar across his nose and his stubble, he looked more like a chauffeur who drove a luxury speeder for an employer that didn't ask too many questions than a high roller. He already missed the weight of BD on his shoulder, but there was an ironclad rule about droids on the casino floor.

Merrin smiled and tugged at her short hem again. "At least your clothing fits you," she said teasingly.

"You were the one who picked it out," Cal reminded her. 

Merrin sniffed. "It did look bigger on the hanger."

Cal gave her an appreciative once-over out of the corner of his eye. The dress did some sort of complicated fold-pleat thing in the middle that made her waist look tiny. "Well, in my opinion, I think it's exactly the right size." 

Her cheeks went almost jade. "I think you look nice, too," she mumbled. 

The elevator door opened and they both were hit by a gravity wave of overstimulation; the casino floor was louder than a skonk concert with its ocean of slot machines bellowing, spinning and sporadically ringing with paltry winnings. T'bac smoke hovered thick over the top of the machines, hanging like an eerie cloud over the neon lights. Beautiful, jewel-toned servers in skimpy, sequined dresses that barely covered their bottoms and dangerously high heels darted around the giant room holding trays of colorful drinks on their shoulders, following paths between the slots like fish being dragged along an ocean current. Cal led Merrin down a short flight of stairs and onto the obnoxiously patterned carpet, holding onto her arm tightly so she didn't fall in her high heels. "Greez said to meet his contact at the bar," he said loudly in her ear.

Merrin shrank into Cal's side, avoiding a procession of Chagrians waddling past and taking up almost all of the walking space. He could tell by the way her mouth pinched at their rudeness that she was debating whether or not to just rematerialize on the other side of the room. He squeezed her bicep and shook his head. "I was only thinking it," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, well, the only thing that Canto Bight has more of than money and idiots with too much of it are guns for hire, so don't get too fancy in plain sight." Cal spotted their contact—a dark-skinned woman in a turquoise dress, with a set of thick locs twisted into a bun above her head and golden hoop earrings dangling all the way to her shoulders—sitting on a stool at the end of the onyx bar, nursing a pink cocktail. He made a beeline for her through the machines, never letting go of Merrin's hand. He tapped the woman on the shoulder. "Phee Genoa?" he asked loudly over the racket.

The woman nodded with a grin and put her cocktail down. She held out a hand for him to shake. "You must be Greez's friend," she said pleasantly, giving him a friendly once-over. "Nice outfit."

"Thanks." Cal got the sudden feeling as though he was being watched; he turned and scanned the room. It's not him. Stop expecting it to be him.

"What's the matter?" Merrin squinted, trying to see what was bothering him.

"Nothing." Cal turned back to Phee. "So, how did a pirate get ahold of—"

"Let me stop you right there, Red." Phee held up a dark finger adorned with a sapphire atop a shining gold band. "I'm no pirate. I work in salvage."

"Fine. Salvage." Cal rolled his eyes. "Where are you docked?"

"Straight to the point, hmm?" Phee threw back the last of her cocktail, patted the stool beside her. "Sit. Have a drink with me. We have a few things to discuss first."

Cal and Merrin exchanged wary looks, then took a seat on either side of her wordlessly. Phee cackled and motioned for the droid barkeep to wheel over. She flashed her bright white teeth at them. "I'm in a generous mood. I'll buy."

Merrin eyed the empty cocktail. "I will have that," she said, nodding at it.

"A Corellian Sunrise. Excellent choice." Phee turned to Cal. "How about you, Red?"

It probably wasn't a good idea for him to drink when he needed to keep his wits about him, but he rarely was in a place with access to good alcohol; not to mention his sudden craving for something in particular for a reason that made his chest go tight if he thought about it too hard. The feeling of being watched intensified. "Tihaar," he said finally.

"Interesting." Phee slid the credits over to the bartender then swirled her new pink drink. "So. About the… cargo." 

Greez had said that she had a cargo bay full of holocrons that she had pulled off a derelict liner floating near Ossus. "Go on," Cal said, arching a brow.

"I'd like to begin by pointing out that the events that have transpired here are not technically my fault," Phee said.

"You gambled your ship away, didn't you?" Merrin asked bluntly.

"No!" Phee looked offended. "There was a misunderstanding when it came to my docking fee."

"You didn't pay your docking fee?" Cal asked.

"I was sixty seconds late in paying my docking fee. That didn't stop them from impounding the damn thing and demanding ten grand to let it out." Phee scowled at her drink. "And it's building interest. Every day it's in impound, it's another five grand."

"So how much to get it released?"

"We're up to forty thousand." Phee ignored their gasps and took a drink. "That's not actually the worst part."

Cal's heart sank. "Please tell me you didn't try to win the money to get it back," he said a little desperately.

Phee bared her teeth in more of a grimace than a grin. "Well, since you already know everything, I guess I don't have to say it."

"Kriff." Cal threw back his tihaar. Warmth bloomed in his belly and spread out through his body. "How deep in the hole are you?"

"Well, if I don't pay the gentleman back his five hundred thousand by the end of the night—"

Merrin choked on her drink. "Five hundred thousand?" she squeaked.

"Listen, kids, if you want that cargo you've got to give me a hand here. Five hundred thousand gets my ship out of impound, back in my name, and Eyo Kekura's boys off my back."

"Eyo Kekura?"

"Pantoran fellow, a high roller who lives in the penthouse of the Hexavent Hotel. Owns half of a fathier stable. Fancies himself quite the professional sabacc player." Phee rolled her eyes. "He's not in the business of forgiving debts, so if I want to make it to tomorrow, I need you to help win me that five hundred 'kay."

Cal narrowed his eyes. "What exactly did Greez tell you about me?" he asked sharply. "You seem a little too sure that I can win."

Phee's hand shot out unexpectedly and clamped onto his outer thigh with a vice grip, right over where he had his saberstaff strapped. "He didn't tell me much," she said with a smirk. "But I'm a very observant person. It's saved my skin more than once." Phee let go of his thigh, laughing.

Cal felt the air go staticky, like lightning was about to strike, then the feeling disappeared almost as soon as it began. He shook it away.

"Don't worry, kid, your secret's safe with me. I happen to be… sympathetic to your cause." She grinned again, but Cal saw the sadness underneath. "You can trust me. I've got a whole ship full of goodies for you, remember?"

And they would be all his for the cool price of half a million credits. 

Cal signaled the droid for another shot of tihaar. "So what did you have in mind?" He eyed the ocean of slot machines over his shoulder. With a little luck—and the Force guiding him to the machines closest to a big payout—he could swing it. They'd be the least suspicious method of gambling, given that their fully autonomous nature made it difficult for any pit boss to argue he'd cheated. There was a treasure chest like out of an old crèchetale overflowing with golden credit bars on the far side of the room, perched on an alcove above the cashier's cage.

"Top prize for slots is a million, but don't get your hopes up." Phee snorted. "Slots are for idiots on vacation, not big spenders. These machines are programmed to never pay out more than ten grand without managerial approval."

"That seems unfair," Merrin said, wrinkling her nose.

"This is Canto Bight, sweetcheeks. No such thing as fair play." Phee's smile was starting to look forced. "I should have known better."

"You said Kekura fancies himself a professional sabacc player," Cal said, trying to remember the rules. Commander Ferrik had favored Corellian Spike and taught him the game in their off hours on the condition that he not use the Force to sense where the good cards were. "I haven't played sabacc in years. Not since Bracca, at least."

Cal caught Merrin for the fifth time. The carpet on the stairs leading up to the VIP section seemed bound and determined to murder her by catching her high heels. "Thank you," Merrin said again, her cheeks warm and dark green with a blush.

"Well, if you want that cargo, start remembering." Phee's smile thinned to a pinched line. "No pressure, but my life kind of depends on it."

"Walk on your tiptoes," Phee advised her. She led them down a narrow walkway to a small vestibule with a frosted glass door guarded by two Pantoran men that stood a whole head-and-shoulders above him. "I'm here to finish my game with Mr. Kekura," she informed them.

"And who are they?" The guard on the right asked in a deep, accented voice.

"My proxy. This is my friend Cal and his girlfriend Merrin. He's agreed to play for me." Phee flashed her brightest smile. The guards rolled their eyes but let them pass. Inside the VIP room it was dark and loud, lit primarily by a laser show that flashed above the dance floor, dozens of shadowy figures writhing to a bass-heavy beat. In the center of the crowd was a raised dais where a naked blue Twi-lek swung around a pole. The bar lined the length of the opposite wall, vibrant-skinned servers in black sparkly dresses hurrying back and forth behind it. Phee led them around the dance floor and to a small room in the back that was kept private by a beaded curtain. 

She pushed it aside to reveal a large, circular table with a cutout in the center to accommodate the dealer-droid. A Pantoran man with light-blue skin, a long, silky pink braid, and a white suit that exposed his chest sat at the furthest side, flanked by an obese Togruta man and an elderly green Twi'lek woman whose bust was so large that she was using the table to support it. "Phee," the Pantoran man said, his face going sharp with a predator's grin. "You've returned with my money?"

"I've returned with a friend." Phee elbowed Cal. "This is my old buddy, Cal. He's agreed to play in my stead. Cal, this is Eyo Kekura, the owner of this fine establishment."

"Interesting." Kekura leaned forward, steepling long blue fingers. Cal didn't like the eerie way the Force rippled around him.

"He's continuing my pot," Phee said quickly. "So he doesn't need a buy-in."

"You're half a million down, Phee," Kekura said, clearly trying not to laugh.

"Yep." Phee took a seat on the small, plush sofa on the left side of the round room, dragging Merrin with her. 

"Your name is Cal?" Kekura's yellow eyes dragged up and down Cal's body like a pair of banana slugs. 

Cal felt dirty just being in the man's presence; just what had possessed Phee to get involved with a man like this in the first place? "That's me," he said, taking a random seat. A green Mirialan server in sparkling black fishnets and nothing else put a crystal glass in front of him. "Just water, please," Cal said quickly, covering the glass before she could fill it with amber liquor. The Mirialan nodded and darted away like a colorful fish.

"You understand just what kind of mess you're stepping into, don't you?" Kekura looked like he wanted to eat him. Lust pulsed around him in the Force, causing it to slide around him like slick, hot slime.

Cal fought the urge to put a hand on his saberstaff and nodded tightly. "I do."

"Very well. You have" —Kekura checked his gem-encrusted chronometer— "approximately two hours to win Miss Genoa's debt back for her. You believe you can do that?"

The Mirialan server darted back and filled Cal's glass with ice-cold sparkling water. "I can," Cal said with a confidence he didn't feel.

The elderly Twi'lek scoffed. "It isn't fair. Why is she—"

"This is my house. I make the rules." Kekura's eyes hardened. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"No, Mr. Kekura," she whispered, chastened. 

"Good. Then, Cal, welcome to the party. Go ahead and deal us—" The sounds of a panicking crowd—screaming and shouting and stampeding feet—echoed in the room beyond the curtain, followed by two very recognizable blaster bolts. Cal's heart skipped a beat. "Guards," Kekura said sharply, his hand dipping below the table and coming up with a dual-triggered blaster pistol. 

"Were you expecting company?" Cal asked. He shoved back from the table and held a hand out to Merrin, yanking her protectively to his side.

Kekura's blue lip curled up in a snarl. "No." 

The curtain was dragged open, revealing the downed body of one of Kekura's guards just beyond it. Boba Fett stepped over the corpse, casually entering the room with his WESTAR still smoking in his right hand. "Kekura," he said calmly. "Been a while." He didn't look at Cal.

"Boba Fett," Kekura replied, keeping his voice even. Cal ignored Merrin's sharp inhale. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" Neither man holstered their blaster.

"Are you afraid it's your face on this puck?" Boba withdrew a bounty puck from his thigh plate and activated the hologram. Kekura sagged with relief. "Phee Genoa, you're coming with me."

The blood drained out of Phee's dark face, leaving her ashen. "What?" she asked, her voice jumping three octaves.

"What for?" Cal blurted out. 

Boba's head tilted. Cal felt like he was being hunted by a tarentarek. "And what's it to you, stranger?" Boba asked, stepping forward.

Stranger? Cal just knew Boba was smirking under his helmet. He wanted nothing more than to rip it off his stupid head and kiss him, demand to know what he was doing here, ask why the kriff he hadn't heard from him in half a year. "I'm a friend of Phee's, and I'm curious. So what's it for?" 

"It's a dangerous thing, poking your nose in other people's business." Boba sauntered forward slowly—dick first, like always—until he was only a foot away. He tilted Cal's chin up with the tip of his silver blaster. "You can get hurt asking the wrong person that kind of question, cuntling."

And just like that, Cal was as hard as a karking rock. He flicked his eyes down with a smirk; so was Boba, he'd bet his saberstaff on it. He licked his dry lips. "Are you gonna hurt me?"

Boba chuckled, dark and wicked. "Would you like me to?" Oh, but the things that chuckle promised. Cal could almost see the vulgar thoughts flying through Boba's imagination; Cal on his knees with his lips wrapped around Boba's cock, tears streaming from his big green eyes as he forces it deeper down his throat, fumbling to get his hand under his kimono to touch himself—

Kekura cleared his throat irritably behind the two, reminding them that they weren't alone. "Unfortunately…" he put a long-fingered blue hand on Cal's shoulder and moved him aside. "Sorry, Boba, but Miss Genoa owes me quite a few credits. Almost definitely more than whatever her bounty is worth."

"Not my problem." Boba turned his blaster onto the Pantoran, triggering the guards to draw on him. He moved his head a fraction to the side; Cal knew he had everyone in the room counted and clocked, his HUD granting him a full three-sixty view of his surroundings. "Tell you what." To Cal's shock, he holstered his weapon, pulled off his helmet, and flashed Kekura a grin. His hair was getting long again. Cal wanted to run his fingers through it. "I'll play you for her."

Kekura laughed. "I like it. Name your terms." 

"One round of Corellian Spike. Winner takes all." Boba eyed the table, flush with at least a million in chips. "All." 

Kekura raised a manicured brow. "That was the plan. What exactly do I benefit from this arrangement?" 

Boba grinned. "I tell you which one of your rivals has been poisoning all your studs to kill their sperm count. Didn't you wonder why only two of your girls are in foal when you bred nine?"

A muscle in Kekura's perfectly straight jaw twitched. "You have a deal," he said without any further argument, shaking Boba's hand. The guards slowly put their blasters away and stood against the wall in stony silence.

"Now see here," the portly Togruta began, pushing back from the table with a scowl. "I haven't played for the last hour just to—"

Boba had his WESTAR drawn and aimed before Cal could even blink. "No one asked you, puss," he said mildly. "Take your winnings and leave." He waved his blaster at the Twi'lek. "You too, doll." 

Kekura bristled. "They're down."

"Watch your tone, shabuir, or I might forget how to be civilized." Boba bared his teeth in a grin and shit he was hot like this, sweaty and smelling like salt and blaster oil and t'bac and pink-cheeked from being under his helmet��� damn it, Cal's dick was starting to hurt. He took a deep breath in and out, easing the blood away from his swollen member in a light meditative trance. He hoped that Master Jaro wouldn't judge him too harshly for reapplying his lesson for soothing injured muscles to this situation. "Put the chips back and don't leave town," Boba amended to the two players. "Better?"

"Much, thank you," Kekura said primly. He fixed the two with a glare. "Don't think your debts are forgiven. The two of you have earned a rare reprieve tonight. Return tomorrow. Leave, and I'll hire this man here to hunt you down. Trust me when I say that once Boba Fett has your scent, there is nowhere you'll be able to hide."

Unless he's got your frequency and just doesn't care about using it. Cal was trying not to be bitter. He was losing that fight to the alcohol.

The two players faces' crumbled as they started putting chips back, then they pushed their way past Cal and disappeared beyond the curtain.

"Now, where were we?" Boba plopped into Cal's vacated chair like it was the end of a long day of work. He snapped his fingers at the Mirialan server. "Tihaar, love. Neat." 

Cal pulled the chair out next to him. "Deal me in."

"I don't recall inviting you," Boba said mildly. He planted a kiss on the cheek of the server as she put his glass of tihaar down. Cal clamped his mouth shut before he said something stupid, like are you kriffing kidding me? or why haven't you tried to call me for the better half of a year? or maybe even shoot this bastard already and kiss me, you stupid ass. Cal wanted to smack him, grab a fistful of his soft curls and wrench his neck back while he bit down on his pulse and watch the bounty hunter come apart in his arms.

The Force moved thick around Boba, slow and pulsing with reciprocated desire. "Kekura, what do you think?" he drawled.

"I think we should hear what his terms are." Kekura folded his long, spidery fingers below his chin and regarded Cal curiously. 

"If I win, Phee gets her bounty cleared, her debt forgiven, and her ship out of impound." Cal didn't jump when Boba's warm hand found his thigh under the table. He was actually a little surprised it had taken him that long to start feeling him up. He spread his legs in a shameless invitation. 

"And if you lose?" Kekura asked, tilting his head. He reminded Cal of a nexu with his wide mouth and narrow, predator's eyes.

"Yes—Cal, was it? What's in it for us?" Boba rubbed a warm circle on his thigh, trailing upward. 

Cal eyed Boba's crystal glass of tihaar—in for a credit—he stole the glass and tossed it back in a single swallow. "Well, Mr. Kekura, I saw the way you looked at me when I walked in. I'm sure we can work something out." He slammed the empty glass down and winked at his suddenly stone-faced lover. Cal would cut his dick off before letting it anywhere near Kekura, of course, but if Boba couldn't be bothered to even message him...

"Interesting." Kekura leaned forward, grinning lecherously. "You're easy on the eyes, Cal, there's no doubt about that, but I'm not sure that a night with you is worth five hundred grand." 

Cal sensed that Boba didn't like where the conversation was going. His theory was confirmed a second later when a wide hand grabbed his balls through his robe and squeezed. "Whore," Boba said with a dark, humorless laugh that didn't reach his eyes. 

"Cal, a word?" Merrin dragged his chair back and wrenched him out of it, dragging him towards the curtain. "Have you lost your mind completely?" she hissed.

"I knew he was going to say no," Cal whispered, rubbing his arm with a wince. 

"You can't just—just offer yourself like that!" Merrin whispered back furiously. "What has gotten into you? You—"

Cal wrenched her close and put his lips directly against her ear, hyper aware of the eyes on them. "Trust me," he murmured, mouthing the words almost more than speaking them. "I've got a plan." And he did, kind of, even though it was still more of a wispy idea that was still coalescing. He reached through the slit in his pocket, popped open the upper emitter chamber on his saberstaff, and withdrew the kyber crystal. 

"I do trust you. I do not trust him." Merrin eyed the table with a sour look.

Cal had a feeling she wasn't just talking about Kekura. "I've got it under control. Just stay ready."

Merrin nodded, unhappy but temporarily placated. She allowed Cal to lead her back to the sofa and Phee, but she didn't take her eyes away from Boba after Cal rejoined the table.

"Your lady doesn't agree with your method of payment, I assume?" Kekura asked, swirling his vibrant blue drink with a smug expression. 

"No. But it's not her call." Cal ignored the daggers he felt Merrin staring into his back. "I do have an alternative you may be interested in." He put his kyber on the table.

Boba went deadly still; Kekura leaned forward, eyes wide. "Now where did you get that?" he asked, staring hungrily at the green crystal.

"Found a derelict full of dead Padawans floating around an iceball a few years back." Cal forced his voice to stay even. Even alluding to the Purge still felt like scratching an infected wound with salted, jagged fingernails sometimes, and he'd had too much liquor to stay completely unemotional. "Pure kyber this size is worth around a million."

Kekura laughed. "Half that at best, my friend."

"Maybe that was true when the Jedi were still around, but now the Empire has a monopoly on kyber." Cal forced a grin. "And I've got more. I've already got a buyer, but I'm willing to take a better offer."

"Really?" Kekura's mind was racing, Cal could sense it. "You have them with you?"

"No. They're in a safe place."

"Hmm." Kekura pursed his wide mouth. "I don't suppose that has anything to do with why you're so eager to help Miss Genoa get her ship back?"

Cal threw his head back and laughed. "You think I'd trust her to hold onto my kyber when she can't even hold onto her own ship?" he asked, wheezing. He sensed Phee scowling at his back. "Hell no. I happen to owe her a favor, that's all."

"Must be a big favor if you're willing to risk a kyber crystal," Boba said flatly. 

"It is."  

"Very well. I agree." Kekura toasted him. "Boba?" 

"I'm more interested in your initial offer," Boba said roughly. Under the table, he shamelessly slipped his hand between Cal's thighs and thumbed the tip of his quickly-hardening length. "I win, and I fuck you through this table. Those are my terms."

Cal was starting to sweat. "The table?" he teased, and if he sounded a little breathless than normal then who could blame him? "Can't even be bothered to rent us a room?" 

"I prefer to collect my payment immediately." Boba stroked him through the fabric then started feeling for the opening of his robes.

Cal wrenched Boba's talented hand away from his crotch. The ass was half a second away from actually jerking him off, and if he didn't stop him now then he wouldn't have the willpower to.

"I'd like to amend my terms to watching him fuck you through the table if either of us win," Kekura said flippantly, swirling his drink.

"I've no objections," Boba said, leering at Cal. "I imagine that a whore like you would enjoy that." Boba's imagination was going wild and he made no attempt to shield his thoughts, Cal face down on the sabacc table with his robes pulled up above his bare ass, Boba's cock pounding him into the table until he's screaming with ecstasy, Kekura sitting and watching and unable to touch, he'll never touch, fucking cunt thought he could take what's mine, he's mine he's shabla mine kaysh'ner, gar ne'ente chaku ner jetii—

Cal didn't recognize the words but the meaning was clear enough. Boba was a hothead. He wasn't showing it in front of Kekura, but Cal's cheeky offer had him pissed. He had only wanted to mess with him a little bit by offering to sleep with Kekura, but he had forgotten just how bad of a temper Boba had. 

Stang, but he'd missed him. Cal cleared his throat and raised his water in a toast. "Deal."

"What the hell kind of kinky shit is going on here?" Phee whispered behind them.

"What are you waiting for?" Kekura waved his hand at the droid. "Deal us in."

Cal refused to look at Boba, and in return he was being ignored; under the table, Boba found his cockhead and pinched it like the mean little shithead that he was. Boba had the unfair disadvantage of a codpiece, so instead of feeling up the bounty hunter Cal projected the mental image of him riding Boba like a rancor in the middle of the table while everyone watched silently. He could have sworn he heard a little ting! come from inside Boba's beskar ball-bubble.

The droid finished his elaborate shuffling routine and flipped them each two cards. Cal wrenched himself away from the fantasy and tipped them up; one green three-of-spheres, one red three-of-pyramids. Green was positive and red was negative, and the goal of Corellian Spike was to end the round with a score as close to zero as possible. It was a great start, one of those hands that Ferrik would have called beginner's luck no matter how many times Cal had played.

"Since this is a winner-takes-all round, I think we can skip the betting phase," Kekura said airily. "Deal the spike." 

Cal didn't jump at the return of Boba's hand between his legs. Instead, he clamped his knees shut and pinned his questing fingers in place. His spike card landed face-down in front of him. He peeked at it; perfect. It was a sylop, a zero-point card, only two of which existed in the deck. In case of a tie, whoever had the lowest, positive-value spike card would win. The dealer-droid rolled the pair of six-sided spikedice; rolling double spikes would mean that the players would have to discard all their cards and start anew. Cal made sure that didn't happen. 

"Draw," he said once the dice had come to a stop on a two and five, squeezing Boba's hand between his knees until his felt the knuckles pop. He accepted the green one-of-cubes and added it to his cards, already plotting out his next two rounds. Switch out his green three-of-spheres in favor of the sylop on the next round—Boba's hand squeezing his throat in just the right spot to cut off circulation to his brain—swap it with the one-of-cubes on the final round to reunite his pair of threes—gagging on the rock-hard length shoved all the way down his throat—combine the pair with the sylop, which gave him a sabacc—Boba chanting his name as he fucks him so hard from behind that the table starts to crack—and boom, victory.

"Draw," Boba said—Spit trails streaming from the corners of his lips—as he picked up his card with his left hand—Boba watching the bulge his cock makes as it thrusts down Cal's whore throat—if he had even registered what his card was then it was far from his mind, too focused on the incredibly detailed fantasy playing in his mind—his stupid girlfriend watching him use Cal's mouth like his own personal fucktoy—

Cal almost choked on his water. Boba was jealous of Merrin? He and Merrin were… Well they were close, obviously, and while Cal couldn't lie and say that their relationship was strictly platonic, they certainly weren't doing anything to warrant that level of burning jealousy. They hadn't even kissed.

"Draw." Kekura accepted his card with a simpering smile and snapped his fingers at the Mirialan girl. "Not like you to walk away from a million for a piece of ass, Fett." He accepted the lit cigarra and blew smoke across the table, right into Boba's face.

Boba smirked through the smoke. If it bothered him, Cal couldn't tell. "I prefer to not deal in jetii osik if I don't have to. Bastards are more trouble than they're worth." Boba squeezed Cal's nuts until he unclamped his knees. 

The dealer-droid rolled again. "Swap," Cal said—Boba moaning his name in his ear—and switched his sylop spike with the three-of-spheres.

"Not even for a million?" Kekura's mood had shifted. Cal sensed suspicion growing in him and cursed inwardly. Was he really about to blow his shot at getting Phee's ship back—Boba blowing his back out as he pulls him up on his knees—because his stupid, horny not-boyfriend showed up unexpectedly and Cal couldn't help but taunt him? 

"I'm a bounty hunter. I prefer to deal in bodies, not antiquities. Draw." Boba accepted the new card and shook his near-empty glass. 

"Mmhm. Swap." Kekura's lip curled.

The dealer-droid rolled his dice. Cal nudged the second die just enough to ensure it didn't land on a spike. "Swap," he said quickly, reclaiming his three-of-spheres. He relaxed his tense shoulders and schooled his face into a calm, bored expression. He had the winning hand, and he didn't even need to cheat and sense Kekura's cards to do it.

"Draw." Boba was horny, not stupid. He'd recognized his misstep and now he was recalculating. Cal felt the desire that pulsed around Boba in the Force go still and turn thin as he shifted back into business mode. 

"Draw." Kekura accepted his last card and smirked. "Why don't we make this a little more interesting?"

"It's plenty interesting already," Cal said quickly. His anxiety was growing by the second. He missed the comforting weight of BD on his shoulder. 

"Just you and I, Fett." Kekura licked his lips. "Fold, and I will let you take Miss Genoa without further argument. My only stipulation is that you perform a job for me first."

Boba raised an eyebrow. "I've a solid hand," he said lightly.

"So you say." Kekura tapped on his unrevealed cards, his grin getting toothier by the minute. "I simply wish to propose a way for both of us to win."

"Is your hand that bad?" Boba asked, his smile not reaching his eyes.

"Aren't you going to ask me what the job is?" Kekura tilted his head.

Boba's eyes flicked to Cal then faced forward again. "Hypothetically."

"Hypothetically, if you were to retrieve the kyber crystal collection of sweet Cal here for me and kill him, I will broker them and split the profits with you fifty-fifty. No worrying about jetii osik, as you said, as I do all of the paperwork."

"How dare you!" Merrin snarled, lunging for Kekura. Cal stood and caught her before she made it across the table and caught a bolt to the face. His guards stepped forward with their blasters drawn and pressed them against their heads.

"Wait just a minute," Cal protested, keeping Merrin contained in a wampa hug. "What kind of game is this? Do you normally take a hit out on players you think you might lose to?"

"Only when I have a monumentally shit hand." Kekura's guards pushed Cal and Merrin apart. One shoved him into his chair, and the other held his blaster to Merrin's head until she sat down beside Phee. She bared her teeth at him and hissed; Cal suddenly remembered that Zabraks were carnivores.

"So why should I accept your offer when I've already won?" Boba asked calmly over the chaos.

Kekura shrugged. "Cards haven't been revealed yet. Maybe he wins. Still up to you."

Boba sipped his tihaar—Cal couldn't help but wonder if he was actually considering it—but then made a face and shook his head. "Seems a bit unsportsmanlike, doesn't it?" Boba finally replied. 

Kekura's eyes sharpened. "Mmhmm."

"I don't like your tone, Kekura." Boba's voice took on a deathly chill. "Say what you want to say."

"I find it curious that you have turned down two separate opportunities to earn millions of credits, bounty hunter."

Boba's presence in the Force tightened like a coil about to snap, and Cal's stomach clenched with a cold knot of fear. He eyed his kyber crystal sitting vulnerable on the table and wondered if he'd be able to put it back in before the blaster bolts began to fly.

Boba broke the tension with a barking laugh. "And I find it curious that you never thought to ask if I had more than one bounty puck with me tonight." Boba squeezed his left fist twice. A small compartment on his wrist slid open, and from it sprang a half-dozen tiny, whistling projectiles that buried themselves into the heads of Kekura and his guards before they could so much as cry out. Six men fell to the obnoxiously-patterned carpet, instantly dead.

"What the fu—" Phee went silent with Boba's WESTAR pressed to her forehead. "H-Hey now, I—"

"Calm down. You're wanted alive, there's no payment if you're dead." Boba holstered his weapon and finished off his tihaar with a chuckle.

Cal shook his head and reached for a napkin to wipe the blood spatter out of his eyes. "What the hell did you just do?" he asked, shocked.

"I shot them. Wasn't that obvious?" Boba looked at him patronizingly. "I swear to the fucking Manda, you're a moron. I tell you to stop whipping out your lightsaber—"

"I have!" Cal interrupted.

" —and to stop telling people your real name—"

"I didn't!" 

"So you whip your fucking kyber out in public and use your first name only, what a brilliant compromise. It's like you're trying to get killed!"

"Hey, why are you making this about me when you could have just done that—whatever that just was—the whole time! Why did I have to sweat through a sabacc match when—"

"For fun? You know that's the point of sabacc, right?"

"Not when people's lives are on the line!"

"Can you argue about this later?" Merrin snapped. She lowered the bloody napkin she had been wiping her face off with and scowled at the two of them. "How long do you think we have before the guards outside this room realizes you just killed their boss?"

"Don't worry, little witch, I shot the guards and the civvies all fucked off already. We've got all the time we need." Boba rifled through the dead Kekura's pockets and pulled out a small datapad. He tapped a few times, swiped, then tossed it to Merrin. "Genoa's ship is officially out of impound. You take it and whatever's on it that's so important that you'd let your boyfriend whore himself out for it." Merrin's face twisted in outrage as Boba turned away. "Cal, you come with me and the quarry." He jerked his head at Phee.

"You don't get to just kill everyone and then order me around!" Cal said stubbornly. He snatched his kyber off the table and retrieved his saberstaff to reassemble it. "Besides, I have to go back to our room to get BD."

"Yes I do." Boba put his helmet back on. "And I already took BD out of your room. He's on my ship."

Cal snapped his saberstaff casing closed harder than he intended to. "You what? You can't just—Boba!" 

"Sure I can. If you want him back…" Boba trailed off, laughing under his breath. "You know the drill."

"Do I get a say in this?" Phee asked, raising her hand.

"No." Boba pulled a pair of binders from his belt and twirled them on one finger. "Are you going to be a good girl, or a bad girl?"

Phee looked at Cal desperately. "Come on, Red, do something!" she begged him.

Cal threw his hands up in disgust. He couldn't decide if he wanted to punch Boba or kiss him. "What do you expect me to do? I can't even stop him from stealing my karking droid!"

Phee eyed the binders with a disgruntled expression. "I'll be a good girl," she said with a deep sigh, pouting.

"Smart choice." Boba motioned at the curtain. "Witches first."

Merrin kicked her heels off and stomped furiously through the curtain, glaring daggers at Boba—and Cal—over her shoulder.

"And just for the record, cuntling—" Boba flipped Cal's cards over, then his own. Cal's eyes widened at the hand that Ferrik used to call a dual power coupling. "I would have won."

"Would you have followed through?" Cal couldn't help but ask.

"I'm not getting in there," Phee said flatly. She crossed her arms and glared. "You're gonna have to stun me."

Boba snickered through his vocabulator. "I'm a man of my word, you know that," he said softly, and chuffed Cal under the chin. "Now move your ass."

"Alright." Boba shrugged and fiddled with the settings on his blaster.

"Okay, just wait a damn second." Cal put himself in between Phee and the carbonite chamber. "Boba, you're not freezing her."

"Yes I am." 

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am." Boba tossed his helmet across the hangar and grinned fiercely. "Come on, Cal. You know better than to try and order me around." He stalked closer, getting right in Cal's face. "I've got a job to do. Let me do it, then we can relax." He took Cal by the chin and kissed him hard and deep, like they were alone. His hands roamed over Cal's chest, his back, down to his ass where he took a double handful and squeezed. Boba put his leg between Cal's legs and pressed up, extracting a low whine.

He finally found the strength to pull away from the clone, breathless. "Who took out the bounty on her?" Cal redirected Boba, herding him in the opposite direction of the carbonite chamber while he distracted him with soft kisses. "Come on, baby, you can tell me."

Boba snorted. "I'm not one to snitch on my employers, baby." He spun Cal around, shoved him up against the wall face-first and ground his beskar bulge directly against his ass. "So you stay here—" 

Cal heard a soft click. He stared at his binder-encased hands—which Boba had somehow locked to the hangar ladder without him noticing—completely dumbfounded. "Boba…" he said warningly.

Boba laughed as he pulled away. "Problem?" he asked teasingly. His thoughts were as loud as his voice: We both know you could get out of those binders in a heartbeat if you really wanted to. 

"Boba, wait!" Cal turned in place so he could see what was happening.

"She'll be fine, baby." Boba winked at him one last time before pushing the shaking Phee towards the freezing chamber. "I already said that I don't get paid if she dies."

"Now you wait just a minute—" Phee started, her voice shaking.

"I'm done waiting." Boba hit the controls, and with a hiss and an avalanche of fumes, Phee was frozen solid, her mouth hanging open in outrage. "And now…" Boba turned and slowly pulled off his gloves.

Cal suddenly knew what it felt like to be a clawmouse spotted by a hawk-bat. He opened his mouth to protest, a thousand petty complaints rising to the surface of his brain to fight over who would be thrown out first—why didn't you call me, did you even miss me, am I anything more than just a hole to you—and found that they all slipped away the second that Boba's mouth found his again. He moaned helplessly, too damn relieved to be kissing him again to hold onto his anger.

"The fuck are you wearing?" Boba murmured, smiling against Cal's mouth. He untied Cal's belt with a flourish, exposing him to the chilly cargo bay. He chased the goosebumps that sprang up with his wide, warm hands. 

"It was the cheapest thing the hotel had that fit the dress code," Cal mumbled, his cheeks going hot. 

"Chandrilan looks good on you." Boba sucked his tongue into his mouth and bit down. "Looks better on my floor, though."

Cal laughed. "How did I know you were going to say something cheesy like that?" 

"Jetii osik, obviously." Boba bit and licked his way down his spine. "You smell good."

"Yeah?" Cal twitched under the hands that trailed down his spine, his asscheeks, back up his thighs and then finally, finally his throbbing member, where the pressure was the most intense. 

"My poor little whore," Boba cooed in his ear. He thumbed the tip of his aching length and spread Cal's precome up and down. "You've been hurting for this, haven't you? My sweet little slut."

Damn it. Cal let his head rest heavy against the wall. He wanted to give in and just let Boba do whatever he wanted to him—to be his whore, to be whatever he wanted him to be just as long as he kept touching him—but that ember of outrage still burned hot. "Been hurting for months." Cal jerked in his bonds and pinned Boba's hand between his thighs. If he spun with enough force, he'd snap Boba's wrist clean in half. "Why haven't you contacted me?" Cal demanded. "I've sent you hundreds of messages, but you haven't even tried."

Boba went quiet. He stroked Cal's back with his free hand, a soothing touch instead of sensual. "Would you believe me if I told you I've been busy?"

"Too busy to let me know that you were alive?" Cal squeezed his thighs together even tighter until he was hurting them both.

"Didn't have a commlink in Imperial prison, cuntling." Boba wrapped his fingers around Cal's throat and gave him a warning squeeze.

"Prison?" Cal ignored the hand around his throat, released Boba's trapped wrist and turned in place, horrified. "Where? Why? How?"

Boba smiled, and there was something inscrutable behind his eyes. "Don't worry about that." He kissed Cal's jaw. 

"I'm worrying about it." Cal jerked away angrily. "Tell me!"

Boba hummed against his neck. "No."

"Boba…" Cal said warningly.

"Shut up." Boba dropped to his knees, grinning. "Why do you want me to talk about banthashit when my mouth could be put to much better use?"

"Because…" Cal threw his head back and groaned as Boba licked the tip of his cock. "Because I care about more than just what your mouth can do for me, you big jerk."

"Jerk?" Boba gasped in mock offense. "I'm on my knees sucking your cock and I'm a jerk?" He sucked Cal's cockhead into his mouth and flicked his tongue against the tip. 

Cal fought down a moan. "Yes!" he insisted breathlessly.

"Ungrateful." Boba hummed and took him deeper into his throat, stroking whatever his mouth left exposed. It felt amazing, better than what he had dreamed of in his bunk for all those months alone.

Alone. And now Boba wouldn't even tell him what had happened to him. "Cocksucking little bitch," Cal said in a low voice.

Boba's hand came to a dead stop. He let Cal's dick fall out of his mouth and slowly got to his feet. "The fuck did you just call me?" Boba's voice was a silky whisper. His hand clamped around Cal's throat again. "The fuck did you just say to me, whore?"

"I called you a cocksucking little bitch." Cal watched Boba's eyes narrow with a sick sense of satisfaction.

Boba squeezed his hand and held the pressure until Cal's vision started to sparkle and go black around his edges. "I could fucking kill you," Boba murmured, close as a kiss. "I could snap your stupid little whore neck in an instant." He let off the pressure just long enough for Cal to suck in one shaky breath before pressing down again. His knee came up and ground against his dick. "Maybe I'll send you to the Imperials. How much do you think I'd get for your Jedi hide?"

"Twenty five 'kay," Cal gasped once he had the breath for it. Or at least that's what his bounty was the last time he had checked it.

"Think they'd take off a cleaning fee if I turned you in freshly fucked?" Boba turned Cal around roughly, pressed him against the wall like he was trying to squeeze the air out of him. "Send you in bound, hogtied, ass gaping open with my jizz leaking out." Boba fingered Cal's cleft, pushed threateningly against his hole. "Maybe the stormtroopers would take turns fucking you before they sent you on to the Inquisitors."

Cal cried out, thrusting helplessly against the cold wall. He didn't know what the hell was wrong with him to be so turned on. The fantasy was disgusting, humiliating, dehumanizing, and it somehow had him ready to shoot off any second. "Would you?" Cal whimpered. "Would you let them fuck me?"

"I'd hold your fucking legs open," Boba whispered. He spat down Cal's crack and used the slickness to ease one finger inside him. "What's the matter? I thought you liked being a whore."

"Your whore," Cal whispered, caught between self-loathing and desire. "I'm your whore."

"Then why'd you offer yourself up to that prick?" Boba growled, adding a second finger. The spit wasn't enough, it burned, but Cal liked the way it hurt. "You offered to fuck a gangster for credits, ner jet'ika."

"I wanted to piss you off!" Cal cried out. A feeling like boiling water shot up and down his spine, a coil at the base winding tighter and tighter and ready to burst as he was impaled on his lover's fingers.

Boba laughed and sped his thrusting up to a brutal pace. "It worked." He crooked his fingers up just right, and Cal saw stars. The coil snapped, and Cal came with a sharp cry, making a mess of his bare chest and the hangar wall. Boba withdrew his wide fingers and slapped Cal's ass with a sharp crack. "Stay there."

Cal leaned against the ladder, weary and weak-kneed. "I'm still cuffed, jackass, I can't go anywhere," he called after him.

Boba yanked his medkit off the wall, cackling loudly, and tossed everything out except for the lube. "You're in a real fucking mood tonight, aren't you?" Boba took a rough hold of Cal's chin and forced eye contact. "Yeah. You went unfucked for five months, of course you're in a mood." He ripped his armor pieces off, leaving them to scatter loudly across the floor. His dove-gray flight suit followed, then his compression shorts and finally, finally his cock was out and on display. 

Cal licked his lips hungrily and dropped to his knees. "No." Boba yanked him back up and flipped him around. 

"Hey!" Cal protested. "I want to—"

"I don't give a shit. You're a fucking brat, Kestis. You don't get what you want." Boba cracked him hard on the ass again, a hard sting that he just knew was going to leave a bruise. "I should have just shown my cards. I wanted to fuck you in front of that bastard so badly." Boba emptied out the tube and rubbed his stretched-out hole with slippery fingers. "And you wanted me to do it. I could feel it." He positioned his cockhead at Cal's tight ring. "Even with your little witch watching, you would have let me. Wouldn't you?" Boba thrust deep and sent Cal flying into the wall with the strength of it. He threaded his finger's through Cal's red strands and yanked his head back. "Tell me, whore. Tell me you would have let her watch."

"I…" Fuck, he could barely breathe with the sensation of Boba bottoming out in him. "I would've… I would've fucked you while she watched us." He was going to have to meditate before seeing Merrin again or he'd never emotionally recover.

"Because you're my whore, aren't you?"

"I'm your whore." Cal almost screamed as Boba reached around and started jerking his painfully sensitive length with a rough hand. "Ah! Fuck, Boba, Boba please, please please—"

"Please what, baby?" Boba sped up. The obscene sound of wet flesh smacking together echoed in the cargo bay. 

"Don't…" Cal gasped. "Don't do that to me again. Don't go dark."

Boba's hips lost their rhythm. He slipped out and spun Cal, hoisted him up into his arms like he was a sack of tatos and slung his legs over his shoulders. Boba crushed his mouth to Cal's, reentering him the same moment, and swallowed his cry. His hips jacked up in a frantic, unsteady rhythm, hitting that sweet spot with every forward thrust. "You missed me that bad, did you baby?" Boba murmured into his mouth. "You didn't let anyone else fuck you, did you?"

"No!" Cal was going to scream, he was on the brink once again, his pulsing length trapped between their sweat-slickened bodies.

"That's 'cause you're mine." Cal was practically delirious, but it sounded like Boba was talking to himself. "Nobody else gets to fuck you. This ass is mine." He squeezed his cheeks. "Mine. Only mine."

"Only yours." Cal's eyes rolled back in his head as he reached his peak again. His legs tightened and pulled Boba against him, trapping his length deep inside. Cal painted their fronts with jets of spunk, and Boba let out a shout and snapped his hips up as far as they would go. Cal felt heat filling him up and spreading deep within.

Neither of them spoke for nearly a minute, though Boba did let Cal's legs drop and let him stand on his own. "I missed you," Cal finally said, then kissed him.

"Sorry for going dark." Boba buried his face in Cal's neck and took a deep breath. "It wasn't on purpose."

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Cal asked quietly.

"Not right now." Boba kissed him one last time and withdrew from Cal's cuffed embrace. "I'm going to run diagnostics. I hear a humming I don't like coming from my backup hyperdrive." He climbed up the ladder buck naked.

"Hey, uncuff me first!" Cal protested, holding up his hands.

"You're a fucking Jedi, uncuff yourself." Boba opened the hatch with a snicker and disappeared.

Boba set his ship down on a cold, desolate, rocky planet that only had a series of numbers, not even a name. Cal leaned forward, peering out the viewport. "Weird place for an exchange," he said. BD-1 crawled into place on his shoulder and beeped in agreement.

Cal let his head hit the wall with a clunk. Boba was such an asshole. Somehow, it made Cal love him even more.

"Nah. I've definitely done weirder meetups." Boba eased the engine into low-power mode. "I see your witch on my sensors. She's entering the atmosphere now."

Cal watched Phee's ship, piloted by Merrin, come to a rough stop. He winced. She was… well, she was still learning. Hopefully Phee wouldn't be too upset about her landing gear. "Are you finally going to tell me who paid you to take Phee?" he asked, following Boba out of the cockpit. 

"You'll meet them when I do." 

Cal slid down the ladder after him. "What do you mean? You don't even know who hired you?"

"How do you think this whole guild thing works?" Boba smashed a button on the side of the cargo hatch and put his helmet on. "People post jobs to the guild. Guild posts jobs for the hunters. I get a name, a face, a general location and a drop-off point. I don't even know who I'm working for half the time, let alone a detailed background."

"But that means you could be working for anyone!" Cal exclaimed.

"Yeah, and? Credits spend the same no matter who puts them up." Boba fiddled with the frame of Phee's frozen carbonite chamber. 

"That seems risky. What if you end up working for some lunatic?"

"I'm almost always working for some lunatic, Cal." Boba activated a set of small repulsors and guided the frame out of the cargo bay.

Cal gave Boba a look. "We'll talk about this later." He opened his arms in anticipation. 

Merrin disappeared from her docking ramp with a flash of green light and rematerialized in his arms. "You're alright?" she asked tearily, threading her fingers through his hair. "That beast didn't hurt you, did he?" 

"Beast?" Cal felt bad for laughing. "He's not a beast, Mer."

"Did she just call me a fucking beast?" Boba asked. 

"I am simply naming what I see in front of me." Merrin's eyes glowed green for a few seconds.

Boba laughed, dark and wicked. "Easy there, little witch. I'm not one you want to mess with."

"You think I am afraid of you?" Merrin raised her hand and bared her teeth.

"You call those needles fangs?" Boba scoffed.

"Don't start." Cal pinned her arms to her sides before she could do something he would regret. "Merrin, please. Just don't."

"I do not understand what you see in this creature." Merrin shrugged him off with an irritated scowl.  

"Eyes up, chakaare." Boba nodded at ship rapidly descending from the dark, star-studded sky.

"Are we really going to just let him give Phee away?" Merrin whispered.

Normally Cal would have immediately assured her no, of course not, but he had an odd feeling tingling at the back of his neck, ordering him wait and see. "I want to see who paid for her before I make a decision." 

"Anything you cunts are planning, don't expect me to help," Boba called over. "Once I hand her over and get my money I'm walking. I'm a professional."

"Good to know." Cal had his saberstaff and Merrin. He could almost definitely handle whatever came out of that ship.

The T6 swooped down at an unnecessarily fast speed, cranked hard to the right, and swerved into a landing spot. Cal and Merrin both exchanged smirks. "And I thought I was a bad pilot," Merrin said with a snicker.

The docking ramp extended with a hiss and puff of pressurized gasses. The figure that walked out of it was tall and slight, and as it got closer Cal could see it was humanoid, presumably female. She wore a full array of oddly mishmashed armor—black-painted pieces that almost looked like recycled plastoid from the clone wars—and had a small golden device strapped to her back. A red scarf was looped around her neck, as were a pair of goggles. Cal saw an indentation in her helmet that appeared as though it was made for the goggles to fit over. "Boba Fett?" she called. Her accent was strangely familiar.

"That's me." Boba stood casually beside the frozen-solid Phee, one hip cocked and a hand on his blaster. "You've got my credits, I assume."

"Only if she's unharmed."

"Not a scratch on her. You have my word."

"So you say." The woman turned to Cal and Merrin, tilted her helmeted head. "And you two?" 

"My passengers. Don't wory about them, they're getting off here. They're not involved in this." Boba's tone was lighthearted, friendly even; Cal watched the Force thrum around him, tense like a quetarra string. "Now where're my credits?"

The woman typed in a command on her commlink, then tossed a bag forward. A droid covered in sleek white plastoid descended from her ship and tooled up to the carbonite-encased Phee. "Vitals are steady and normal for one in hibernation, Mistress," the droid announced politely.

"Go ahead and put her on the ship, AZ." The woman waited until the droid had disappeared with the carbonite frame to turn back to Boba.

"Looks like it's all here. Our business is concluded." Boba turned and started to stride back to the Slave I.

"Not quite." The woman took off her helmet, revealing a braided crown of pale blonde hair. 

Cal swiveled his head back and forth between her and Boba like a Shilian mithoo, stunned. Those eyes, that nose, that jaw; female or not, there was no mistaking who—what—she was.

"What kind of game is this?" Boba stood frozen in place, too shocked to move.

"Sorry Alpha, no game." The woman grinned a very, very familiar grin. "I'm Omega. I think you and I need to chat."

[psalmsofpsychosis]

Today's Agony Of The Day is a first kiss scenario in which Cal and Boba narrowly escape a very shitfuck situation and make it to the Slave-1, they're both bloody and beaten up and sitting on the floor awkwardly faving each other, trying to catch their breathe and everything hurts and they're sure of at least two ribcage bones broken between the two of them. Boba says nothing and ever so alowly Cal scoots closer, almost says "hey, hey, look at me," but then he doesn't. Boba leans his forhead on Cal's shoulder, he's breathing harsh, "you almost died," he croaks, and maybe he's crying, Cal can't tell. He closes his eyes and takes one of Boba's hands in his own, smoothes his thumb down the back of it; Boba's hands are shaking, and he is quiet as a grave. Cal dips his head, plants the softest kiss on Boba's pulse, "it's okay," he says. Another kiss on his jawline, on the corner of his lips before he leans their foreheads together.

"i'm right here."

and then he feels Boba's fingers curling into his hair, pulling him in.

[ironhoshi]

The motion was soothing and vexing at the same time. Boba bites his lower lip as he weaves the stems together carefully. The corpses of several wildflowers litter the space about him, proof he has been at this for a bit.

"Bweep?"

"All I am saying is he better like this or I am collecting on his bounty," Boba replies to the small droid. He is kidding, mostly. BD just lets out a sound similar to a laugh and prods at a pile of petals. 

[justanotherbookortwo]

Ok damn I can't make up my mind (that's a lie but idk how to start it so). Explanations are below

5 things +1 thing is soooo silly and self indulgent I might do it anyway (as in I'm thinking up what I can remember about x thing and trying to arrange a timeline) so bear that in mind.

Mandalorian 2: electric boogaloo is just the prev text post, where boba is hired to bring a force sensitive child to a jedi - any jedi - and cal is the closest and easiest to find.

Boba just chills there for a while ig: he sticks around on Koboh after he turns Caij in, and it's making Greez veery twitchy in the saloon

Post rotj meeting: Cal is passing through Mos Epsa and is distracted by how much...lighter it all seems (least fleshed out idea, if this wins I will take suggestions)

Get along shirt: they get marooned somewhere and have to work together for x amount of time (again, will take suggestions)

[corvidscreams]

Beautiful boys 🧡♥️💚

art trade for @leokumitrash !!!

[corvidscreams]

“You’ll have to be faster than that to catch me, bounty hunter!”

In honor of boop day I come bearing memes.

[kazhan-draws]

FANDOM: Star Wars - Jedi: Fallen Order RELATIONSHIPS: Boba Fett/Cal Kestis RATING: E

SUMMARY: A year ago, Cal brought an injured Boba Fett home to help him patch up his wounds after he got his ass handed to him by a bounty he followed to Bracca.

By all means, they should never have seen each other again, yet here he is, invading Cal’s room and ruining his plans to go to bed early. Again.

WORDS: 5424

[pretz3l-log1c]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order (Video Game), Star Wars - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Boba Fett/Cal Kestis Characters: Boba Fett, Cal Kestis Additional Tags: Pre-Relationship, Masturbation, Boba has more issues than a comic book shop, Cal Kestis does not actually appear in this fic, Sexual Fantasy, i would say pwp but character development happens, through wanking, Bottom Boba Fett, top cal kestis, kind of? see other tags, no beta we die like meh Series: Part 2 of No Small Acts Summary:

Boba has some feelings to work through after his hunt for Kestis went awry.

[ironhoshi]

Kesett is about so many things to so many different people. That is the joy of fan fiction and fan art. People can create beautiful things based off a mere idea.

It is hurt and it is comfort. It is unlikely friendships. It is healing from traumas past. It is fairytales retold. It is whatever a creator wants their creation to be. Kesett is just fun because it is that Bounty Hunter and the Jedi of it all. I just like how they vibe tbh.

@fettupwithyou thank you for putting this idea in my head!

To everyone else: may your ships, no matter what they are, continue to spark joy like this one does for me.

Rants!

Rochi: there are literally 19 fics for this ship, all but 3 written by the same person, and the characters have never even been mentioned in the same sentence, let alone met. neither of them have any lines, we don't know what one looks like and we only know he exists because of like 2 fact files you can find scattered around the game. but holy shit if the dynamic ive deluded myself into thinking they have isnt DELECTABLE

Duckylove: A HYPERSPECIFIC POLYCULE BETWEEN MOST OF THE TEENAGERS IN THE DWAMPYVERSE CAST. TECHNICALLY THE BASIS IS IN THE PHINEAS AND FERB CAST, WITH CANDACE DATING JEREMY, STACY, AND VANESSA, BUT IT COMPLICATES FROM THERE. I USUALLY HAVE STACY AND VANESSA DATING EACH OTHER, ALONG WITH STACY DATING COLTRANE AND VANESSA DATING MONTY. MONTY CAN ALSO BE DATING CARL IT DEPENDS. FROM THERE THERES THE MILO MURPHY'S LAW CAST, WITH SARA DATING CANDACE AND VANESSA, ALONG WITH NEAL. THE HAMSTER AND GRETEL CAST INCLUSION IS KEVIN DATING HIROMI, WHOS DATING STACY AND SARA AS WELL. FRED AND JENNY (AND A BUNCHA THE OTHER TEENS BUT LESS FULLY AS THESE TWO) ARE ALSO THERE BUT FRED AND JENNY ARE AROACE SO THEY JUST KINDA EXIST THERE.

Kesett: Ok so the ship started as something random @ironhoshi and @fettupwithyou came up with but then more people started to hear about it and it became an actual ship. The whole idea was because people realized Boba and Cal are about the same age and Boba is a bounty hunter and Cal is someone who would probably be wanted by a bunch of people

[feelinkeeli]

Work on Progress Wednesday - June 23rd

"This is a waste of my time, Buir," Boba said. He was not whining or grumbling no matter what his brothers claimed otherwise.

"It's supposed to be a waste of time, Bob'ika. The point is for you to be out of sight and out of mind until the political shitstorm you caused with House Kryze blows over," Jan'buir said without a shred of sympathy. If anything he looked amused but the blue tint of holos made it tricky to tell for certain.

"Bo-katan started the fight and she's older than me. Why am I the only one in the hotseat if all I did was finish it?" Boba demanded. 

"Because Sundari is a New Mandalorian city, with strict rules against violence, and you weren't the one in need of medical treatment afterwards. Bo-Katan might not care you beat the shabuire out of her but her Duchess sister and her sycophants certainly did," Jango explained, tone as dry as Mandalore's deserts. 

Yep. His buir was amused and maybe even proud of all the trouble Boba caused even if it gave Ba'buir Jaster a freighter's load of work. Boba was fairly certain Jaster's years as Mand'alor were coming to an end… as soon as someone got the guts to force him to retire. But then someone else would have to handle all the politicking and bureaucracy that was part of being Mand'alor anymore and no one except Jas'babuir was crazy enough for that. Even New Mandalorians balked away from the 'nonviolent' duties of the Mand'alor.

"I swear Boba, no one in this family gets into and out of trouble like you do," Jango said with a sigh. "Except maybe me when I was your age."

[cabezadeperro]

Me again 💖

CalBoba +

hi tasha!!! i didn't actually follow your prompt too much sowwy 😭 vague spoilers of jedi survivor; pre/established relationship (situationship), T, 870w.

---

The cuffs are just plain durasteel. They’re good quality, kept painstakingly clean and in good condition despite the heavy use they see, heavier than they look. Boba sourced them from a factory on Kuat that also makes Imperial-grade restraints for the ISB. They were expensive: they are an investment. Boba knows what happens when your bounty shakes off their shackles, and he has to live with the scars.

They are not Force-suppressing cuffs, however. They’re high grade durasteel, nothing more and nothing less.

Kestis sits in the hold of the Slave, shackled wrists held in his lap, fingers lax. His little droid friend is nowhere to be found, and he is soaked to the bone, dripping seawater on the metal floor of Boba’s ship. His lightsaber is tucked away in one of Boba’s pouches, weirdly heavy, cold through the many layers of fabric, and Boba knows intimately what Jedi are capable of. 

Coronet is a dump. Boba closes and locks the ramp, trying his best to keep out the wind and the cold, and returns to Kestis’s side. He’s shivering slightly: Boba fished him from the docks. He lost his boots while trying to swim across the bay, and his lips are blue, his red hair darkened by water and rain. The brightest thing about him is the blood that stains his clothes, and his green eyes.

Word says he survived Vader, and his bounty’s high enough it might even be true. 

The shackles are simple durasteel. Boba crouches in front of him, keeping his distance: Kestis tilts his head, those green eyes of his serene. He seems to be around Boba’s age—he must have been thirteen or fourteen when the war ended. He’s made it for ten years, and the cuffs around his wrists are plain metal, and if he’s there, in Boba’s ship, is because he wants to be there.

Boba chews on his lower lip. After a beat, he takes off his buy’ce. Green eyes widen in recognition, turn thoughtful. 

“I knew I had heard that voice before,” Kestis says after a beat. The cuffs click open, and he sits up, leans forward to lean his elbows on his knees. 

Boba tracked him down after that first chance meeting on Koboh. He’s been doing his best to hunt him down for the past year, and this is not the first time he thought he had Kestis, and he’s beginning to think it won’t be the last. 

“I’m not like them,” Boba tells him. Kestis snorts, mouth ticking up in a sideways smile. 

Boba should have kept his mouth shut.

“Yeah. I can tell,” Kestis replies easily. 

There’s blood on his shirt. Boba got him right before he jumped. High up on his right side, right across the ribs. Must hurt like a bitch.

If Kestis is there it’s because he wants to.

His thighs are starting to burn. Boba stands up and steps away, buy’ce held uncomfortably in his left hand.

There’s an unused pair of Force-suppressing cuffs gathering dust in the armoury. Boba’s had them for a while. 

He’s playing a dangerous game—his father would be disgusted. He never had any patience for the sort of hunter who did what Boba’s been doing lately: for him, bounties were just credits on legs. You tracked them down, you caught them, you handed them in, and you moved on. Clean and quick and professional.

Kestis reaches out to him with one ungloved hand. After a beat, Boba wraps his gloved one around his wrist, pulls him to his feet. 

He calls himself a Jedi, but he looks little like any of the sanctimonious pricks Boba met during the war. He’s all confident swagger, and he has the kills to support it. He’s been cutting his way through the galaxy, like a too-sharp knife in bantha butter.

Boba moves first, but Kestis’s quick to catch up. His lips are rough, and there’s stubble on the cold skin of his cheeks. Boba closes his eyes and grabs blindly at him. His cold fingers tangle themselves in Boba’s hair, and Boba steps even closer, knees bumping, his bulky armour both a physical boundary that has yet to be crossed and a reminder. He tastes of salt water and blood and metal, and Boba opens under him, already sweating under his kute. 

The lightsaber is very cold where it fits under Boba’s chin. He opens his eyes and looks up at Kestis. Boba raises his brows, painfully aware of the way his pulse beats against the thin skin of his throat, and Kestis licks his lips. He’s flushed, his hair a mess and his lips reddened. 

“I won’t stop,” Boba reminds him. His voice is shot. He clears his throat, and feels the heavy weapon move with him.

“I know,” Kestis says. “I should kill you.”

Boba’s fast, but Kestis is faster. He ducks out of the way, pushes Boba away; Boba feels himself fly through the cold air of his ship, head cracking against something sharp. By the time he manages to shake off the dark spots off his sight, Kestis is long gone, the ramp standing wide open, Coronet’s winds flooding the hold with a mix of seawater and tibanna.